The Sticky Situation

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I, uhh, I…" Russell stammers, yet his eyes are glued to the breathtaking sight before him: his girlfriend's roommate, Claire, in nothing but skimpy underwear. "I didn't expect to…I was looking for Karen…"

"You should have knocked!"

"I tried the door and it opened. I thought there was no one here."

"Three of us live here. You should be wary of our sense of privacy," Claire hisses, then she stomps to the bathroom.

Russell is left standing there, his face inscrutable. "To be fair," he thinks, "Claire's got a more smokin' body than Karen. If only she would dress more…provocatively."

Russell plants himself on the sofa and tries to flick through Netflix, acting as though nothing happened. But in his head and in his groin, there's a fire burning. Ever since that accident in the bathroom the other night, when he unintentionally saw Claire naked, he couldn't stop thinking about her. There's something about Claire's beauty that only now he appreciates—the way her eyes light up, her lips pout, when she hears something that interests her. The way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The way she licks her lips to moisten them when she's talking so fast. Claire's definitely a million times better than Karen, who by all accounts (he knows Karen's history) is only with him because of his money and reputation. Claire would have been a much better girlfriend, and probably hot in bed, too, although he's sure Claire's still a virgin as Karen told him once.

Ever since that night, Russell couldn't get a moment's peace of mind. He'd look at Karen, yet his mind wanders—the scene of Claire's nakedness in the bathroom plays in an endless loop in his head. When he made love with Karen that night, he was actually imagining Claire, moaning, her hot breath in his ear, urging him to go deeper, harder, faster.

He has been coming to the apartment even though he knows Karen won't be there—she still works as an executive secretary downtown—trying his luck to bump into Claire and strike a conversation. Some small talk that could hopefully lead to something bigger. Claire is a delight to converse with—she's smart, and her sense of humor is almost as sharp as any of his guy friends, so he's pretty sure they'd get along well. If that happens, maybe he'd dump Karen and ask Claire to live with him. He's quite sure Claire would jump if he makes an offer, or at least if he asks her out on a date. What's not to like about him—he looks like some matinee idol straight out of Hollywood, not to mention he's incredibly successful—his internet startup has made him a multimillionaire in his twenties. He can just imagine Claire going crazy about him—once he makes his intentions known.

And see how lucky he can be. The past two days yielded nothing. Claire was missing in action, and not even Karen knew her whereabouts. Then out of a hunch, on his way to the gym, he decides to swing by Karen's apartment, only to find Claire on the sofa, in all her half-naked glory. He's beginning to think this must be Claire's subtle way of seducing him. He's the only man who visits the apartment, so for whom else could Claire be doing all these shenanigans?

Russell, stretches out on the sofa, humming a tune, still flicking through the offerings on Netflix. Today must really be the day. There's only the two of them in this apartment. If he must make his move, it should be now. He smiles at the thought, as the excitement sends a shiver of delight down his spine, settling in his pelvis. "Claire will be mine," he thinks.

Meanwhile, Claire is in the bathroom, cleaning the facial gel off her face, fuming. It had been a vague feeling before, but now she's completely sure: Russell disgusts her. There's something sleazy about that man. Maybe the way he splurges product on his hair, or the way he stares at her. But the real deal-breaker has been these couple of embarrassing incidents in which she was always in a compromising situation. Anyone with the smallest amount of decency would knock on the door, right? But not Russell. The man seems to have a knack for sneakily opening doors. If he wasn't Karen's boyfriend, she would have called the cops on him.

She hates him, she decides. The moment Gabriel Tan pays her for her month of suffering in his employ, she'd find a new apartment, one where she would have no roommate. A place she could enjoy all by herself. Not like this, damn it.

She takes a shower, an intentionally long one. She hopes that by the time she finishes, Russell would have been gone, and she wouldn't have to say anything to him. She doesn't want to go out there in the living room and endure his presence. She doesn't want to hole up in her room, either; she's done hiding from anybody. She just wants to let her hair down, enjoy some peace.

When she's done showering, she takes a peak out of the bathroom door. The coast seems clear, and there's no sign of him. The TV's turned off. She hears nothing. Finally, Russell's gone. She confidently strode out of the bathroom with nothing but her towel draped around her body, her hair still dripping wet. She goes straight into her room, but when she opens the door, she gets the shock of her life.

The a-hole, Russell, is lying on HER bed, smiling, as if waiting for her!

"What the hell are you doing here?" Claire's beet-red in anger. "What are you up to?"

Russell casually stands up and approaches her, with that silly smile plastered on his face. He gets so close to her she could smell his food-breath.

"I am leaving Karen," he says.

"What?"

"I am leaving Karen," he repeats, unsure if Claire is just being obtuse. "I'm leaving her…for you."

"WHAT?" Now Claire is fuming mad. "What in hell are you talking about?"

"I am talking about us, Claire," Russell says. "I like you, and I'm sure you like me, too. You don't have to worry about Karen because—"

—"Get out!"

"No one else is here. Karen would not be home for hours so we can—"

—"Get the hell out of my room!" Claire is screaming so hard she's all red in the face.

Russell grins for a moment, as if expecting Claire to say something that he likes. But Claire seems unambiguously angry.

"Didn't you want this? Didn't you want us together?"

"Are you insane? Who told you that?"

Russell stares at her. "You. You kept telling me that. You kept showing me your body."

"Are you crazy? How—"

Russell suddenly grabs her and starts groping her. Claire tries to fight back, using her arms and knees, but there's no space to give her momentum. In the struggle, Russell tears the towel off her body, and seeing her nakedness seems to give him more resolve. He is about to punch her in the stomach but Claire is quick—she slams her palm on his face, then bolts out of the room. She knows she's running naked, but there's white-hot panic in her head and all she cares about is to get away. But as she reaches the living room, something grabs her legs and she falls down. Instantly, Russell is on top of her. "If this is the game you wanna play, then we'll play," he mutters.

But a voice booms: "What the hell is this?"

It's Karen, and the expression on her face screams bloody murder.