She gets bolder

From there, it was a hundred little things. Claire brushing against Marcus in the kitchen. Her laugh changing—sharper, lighter—when Marcus said something. The way she stood near him barefoot, tank top clinging to her ribs, nipples clearly outlined through the fabric.

At dinner one night, she leaned forward over the table. The top of her tank gaped just enough that Marcus had to notice. His eyes flicked, briefly, before returning to his plate.

Claire pretended not to notice. But John did.

She’d started saying Marcus’s name differently too. Slow, with a soft curl at the end.

“Marcus, could you grab that?”

“Marcus, you’re strong. Open this for me?”

The words were harmless. The tone wasn’t.

John watched it all. Said nothing.

And when they were alone, Claire never denied it. She just played dumb. Or worse—innocent.

⸻

One night, John came home early from class. The apartment was quiet, except for low music playing from the living room. He rounded the corner—and froze.

Claire was standing near the window, back turned, in just underwear and a tank. She swayed slightly to the beat of whatever song was playing. Marcus sat on the couch, drink in hand, watching.

Not talking. Just watching.

Claire didn’t look at John when he entered. She just kept moving, slow, rhythmic. Then turned her head slightly, gave him a lazy smile.

“Hey, babe. You’re home early.”

Marcus didn’t even flinch.

John stood there a moment too long.

“I’ll be in the room,” he said.

Claire’s smile didn’t fade. “Okay.”

He didn’t hear footsteps behind him. Just the low hum of music, and Marcus’s silence.

⸻

That night, in bed, John couldn’t sleep.

Claire lay beside him, scrolling her phone.

He finally said, “You’re pushing it.”

She didn’t look up. “How?”

“You know how.”

She locked the phone, rolled to face him. “I thought you liked watching.”

His throat tightened.

“I didn’t say I liked—”

She reached down, felt him again. He was hard.

She smiled. “Your body says otherwise.”

He said nothing.

She whispered, “Want me to stop?”

He shook his head.

Claire leaned in close, her lips brushing his ear.

“Good,” she said.