Read After Claude for Free Online Page A

want privacy.”
    “I sympathize. I want the ruby necklace that Onassis gave to Jackie so she’d have something to wear with her ruby earrings, but we take what we get in this life. Right? You want to know how they caught him?”
    “No. Hand me the sponge and get out of here.”
    “There was a time, handsome,” I chided him, “when my Arabic prince liked to soak in his marble tub, while his Scheherazade entertained him.”
    He pretended not to remember.
    “There was a time, Royal One, when your faithful captive used to soap her master, and when he was in a benevolent mood, he would invite her into his royal tub. Does he remember that?”
    This time he cut off my fond reminiscences by turning the water on full blast.
    “This bath is too damn hot.”
    “Oh, Master, why didn’t you let me draw your bath? What else am I here for?”
    “Stop being so revolting first thing in the morning. I’m tired.”
    You didn’t have to be Rose Franzblau to observe that Claude found the merest hint of sex disturbing.
    “How come you’re so tired? Didn’t you sleep enough last night?”
    “No,” came the sour answer. “You kept crawling all over me. I finally gave up and got out of bed. What was that all about?”
    “Perhaps it was merely a dream?”
    “I didn’t shut my eyes. Hand me the sponge, it’s at the edge of the sink. Then get out of here.”
    I arose from my toilette to do my lord’s bidding and inadvertently caught my reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. I wasn’t expecting to greet Sophia Loren, but my God, I wasn’t ready for the Bride of Frankenstein. My face looked like it had been crushed into an overstuffed suitcase that Muhammed Ali did me a favor and closed.
    “You’re destroying me,” I cried, throwing the sponge at him. “You should be arrested for what you’re doing to me.”
    “You look the way you always look.”
    “Lies. Fabrications.” I desperately combed the egg foo yong out of my hair. “Are you trying to tell me you invited this face to move in with you?”
    Me and my spontaneous nature. I could have auctioned off my tongue to the lowest bidder. That was all I needed, to remind the crank that I lived with him. Fortunately, Claude was too absorbed in soaping his precious armpits to notice my Freudian slip.
    “Your face is still okay, considering the weight you’ve put on.”
    To men who are not basically fond of women, every additional ounce of flesh is like a thorn in their side. Fortunately, I had gained a few necessary pounds and was no longer the helpless waif he had captured.
    “Excuse me for not being an emaciated wreck any more. Now that I know your tastes run to cadavers, preferably hanging by their thumbs, I’ll certainly make the necessary adjustments.”
    “Don’t be so touchy. You still have a groovy figure. You’ll have no trouble catching a replacement.” He emphasized his sinister statement with a ghastly smile.
    “What in the world would I want to replace? Honestly, Claude, the way you talk, you’d think I had nothing on my mind but rape.”
    He looked embarrassed or bewildered, and concentrated on soaping his legs.
    “Would you like me to do that for you, darling?”
    “Get raped?”
    “No, silly, wash you.” I laughed recklessly at that excruciating sample of French wit.
    I dried my eyes. “You know, Claude, I may neglect to mention it from time to time, what with the cleaning and cooking and the shopping, I do get distracted, but for a man, you have a wonderful body, and for a Frenchman, it’s practically a miracle. Good lord, those runts in Paris, strutting around as if they had something special to show off. It’s a blessing how they don’t see themselves. But of course, French women are positive geniuses at convincing any gnome that he’s Tarzan. I suppose they had to learn the art of flattery in order to assure the propagation of the race. Is your father short?”
    “Harriet, I hear the water boiling in the kitchen.”
    “Oh yes,” I