Chapter 4 - The First Task (1/2)

”What in hell are you screaming about?” Mr. Tan's face is beet red—and so is Claire, who's hiding behind the chair, as though shielding her eyes from some vicious attack. ”Are you crazy?”

”I'm not crazy! You were taking your clothes off!” Claire is hyperventilating, averting her eyes, trying not to see her semi-naked boss.

”Yes, of course! But I am doing this professionally,” he says, matter-of-factly. ”Because from now on this is part of your job.” He picks up his clothes and tosses everything to her. ”Bring these over to Leed's. They'll take care of it.”

”These are soiled clothes?”

”Well, yes, soiled, but not in the same sense of the word you peasants use the word 'soiled'.” Mr. Tan presses a buŧŧon on his desk, and an entire panel of the office's wall slides open, revealing a walk-in wardrobe. ”If you must know, I came from a very long and boring meeting. They should have called it Bored Meeting, and not Board Meeting, because it was full of insufferable bores.”

Claire opens his eyes a peep and lets out a squeak. ”You're still nȧkėd, sir!”

”Am I?” Mr. Tan theatrically looks at his body reflected on the glass wall, seemingly admiring his buffed physique. ”As far as I know it, I'm still wearing undies. So technically, I'm not nȧkėd, Miss Monteverde. So stop being such a vɨrġɨn and do your job.”

”But sir—”

Mr. Tan enters the walk-in wardrobe and, out of view, falls silent for a moment. Then he says, ”Claire?”

”Yes, sir?” Claire stands up. A white fabric thing flies out of the wardrobe's entrance and lands right on Claire's feet. She stares at it. Her eyes widen when she realizes it's her boss's boxers, the very same pair he was just wearing a moment ago.

Does this mean he's totally nȧkėd right now, inside that room?

”Please include that, will you,” she hears his voice say. ”And when you return, bring me a coffee.”

Claire squirms as she stands there, unable to bring herself to pick up her boss's undėrwėȧr. She looks around for anything to pick it up with—a stick, a pair of tongs, anything she can use to pick it up without having to use her actual hands! She hears him humming some tune while inside the wardrobe, some familiar tune she couldn't yet name. So this is the monster. This is how he does it, terrorizing his secretaries and ȧssistants. Doesn't this count as sėxuȧŀ harassment? If she sues him, would she win? Mr. Tan's probably so powerful, with half the city in his pocket or something, that whatever she files against him would go nowhere. After all, what does she have apart from emotional turmoil and a really, really awkward situation?

She stares at the boxers. It has that expensive-looking sheen, as if it's made of silk. If this is actual silk, and Mr. Tan farts through it, then isn't that so cliché, the rich farting through silk and all that?

Claire had to snicker at the thought, if only at her own expense.

So what does she do? Where is a pair of tongs when you need one?