//CLARA//
Twenty minutes later, I was submerged in a clawfoot tub. The steam was thick enough to make my entire private bathroom feel like a sauna and that I could almost pretend to be back in my penthouse with a triple-shot espresso.
But as I looked at the sponge, everything went crumbling.
I frowned. It had been days since I'd been disconnected from the internet. Days since I'd been denied the luxurious things the 21st century had to offer.
Just then, I remember something.
"Hattie?" I called out. "Can you bring me a toothbrush?"
Hattie paused her scrubbing of the floor, looking at me like I'd just asked her for a Wi-Fi password.
"A… a what, Miss Eleanor?"
I mimed the motion.
"A brush. For teeth. Surely we aren't just out here vibing with morning breath."
"Oh!" Hattie's face brightened. "That… Surely Miss. For a while."
She scurried off and returned a second later, proudly presenting this…thing.
I took it, eyeing the ivory looking handle and the stiff, yellowish bristles with immediate suspicion.
"What is this made of?" I asked, my stomach already doing a slow somersault.
"Why, of course it's made of the finest pig's hair, Miss Eleanor," she replied, looking so innocent that actually hurt.
Realizing what she said, my brain malfunctioned for a second.
Made of fucking what?
I immediately drop it like it was a live grenade.
"P-pig's hair?!" I stammered, imagining my dear friend Peppa Pig having a buzzcut just to be use as a toothbrush.
"You want me to put a farm animal's back hair in my mouth? Absolutely not. Throw it away. Burn it. Bury it in the garden. I'm not brushing my teeth with a ham!"
"But miss—"
"Find me a substitute. Something…synthetic? No, you don't know that word. Something animal-free? Vegan? God, is there even a PETA chapter in this century?"
I rubbed my temples.
I look at Hattie, staring at me with a silent panic and confusion. Probably her brain overheating at those words trying to get the meaning.
"Just find me something that didn't once have a heartbeat, Hattie. I'm begging you."
"Y…yes Miss. My apologies," she stammered, looking like she was about to have a mental breakdown, backing out of the room, clutching the forsaken toothbrush I threw.
Goodness, everything in this century is giving me a headache.
I leaned my head back onto the edge of the tub, letting the warm water consumed me when the door opened.
"Hattie, please tell me you found something that isn't—"
I stopped mid-sentence soon as I opened my eyes.
Those silhouette surely did not belong to Hattie.
Casimir was standing just behind the translucent curtain, his presence suddenly shrinking the bathroom. Behind him was Hattie, trembling, with her fingers twisting the hem of her apron.
His newly polished shoes clicked on the tile with such rhythm that made my heart do a weird little flip. Without a word, he reached out and pulled the curtain aside. I instinctively sank deeper into the bubbles, though honestly, after last night, the merchandise wasn't exactly a secret to him.
"Well, well…"
I let a slow Cheshire-like grin spread across my face, shifting my gaze from the terrified Hattie to the very compose Casimir.
Look what the mouse lured in.
A wolf.
"I was under the impression that barging into someone's private room is a big no-no. Especially when that someone is currently taking a bath. Naked."
His eyes flicked down, skimming over the water where the bubbles were doing a heroic job of gatekeeping my modesty. It was only a fraction of a second, but I felt it, like a physical touch than a mere glance. His gaze snapped back to mine, unreadable.
"I'm…I'm sorry Miss!" Hattie squeaked, realizing the scandalous situation we are in. Her voice rose two octaves higher than usual, adding more to her panic.
"I didn't know what you meant by sen-tik…the vegan… things… I had to ask Mr. Guggenheim for help!"
Casimir gave her a single, sharp nod, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Thank you, Hattie. You're dismissed for now."
Once the poor girl scrambled away. The door hadn't even fully clicked shut when he took another closer step.
"It's my house, Clara. I don't require permission to walk through any door I own."
"Whatever you say, Uncle," I teased, putting a ridiculous amount of emphasis on the title just to watch his jaw tighten. "Besides, after last night. I'm pretty sure you've already memorized my blueprints. Why act shy now?"
I leaned back against the porcelain, casually imagining myself lounging in a VIP cabana in Mykonos.
But instead of Dionysus, it was Adonis himself staring down at me. I let my breast rise towards the surface, making sure it was dangerously visible, just enough that the dark, aching heat of my nipples strained against the water's edge, mocking the thin veil of bubbles.
He didn't take the bait. He didn't even blink. But I saw it, the way his eyes darkened and his jaw ticked as if he was controlling himself not to dive into the tub. Instead, he reached into his vest and held out an object.
The handle was sleek, polished metal, definitely not the farm-to-mouth horror I'd rejected earlier. The bristles on this one were bleached white, and actually looked more…premium.
"What is this made of?" I asked, scanning the object like a barcode.
"Horsehair. From the neck," he stated in a flat and matter-of-fact tone.
He leaned in slightly, a spark of genuine curiosity cutting through his cold exterior.
"Tell me, Clara. What materials could you possibly have used before that make a animals' hair look disgusting to you?"
My mouth opened, then snapped shut.
My brain was throwing up 404 errors as I tried to figure out how to explain mass-manufactured polymers to an ancient man.
"I used... the ones that don't involve torturing them," I finally managed, sounding far less like someone from a strange land. "You know. Plant-based? Stuff that doesn't involve a stable?"
He just looked at me blankly. I could practically see the gears turning behind those lethally intelligent eyes, trying to process what other materials could possibly exist in this age that weren't made of bone, wood, or hair.
To him, I wasn't just being difficult, I was describing something alien.
I sigh, recoiling from the toothbrush.
"Take that away, Casimir. I'm not going to put anything in my mouth that has been recently taxidermied."
Casimir momentarily close his eyes, looking like he was silently asking the great heavens for a drop of more patience.
"Hattie! Bring boiling water!"
Minutes later, a steaming pot was brought in. I watched, slightly mesmerized, as Casimir began a meticulous sanitization process right in front of me. He was so focused, the steam swirling around his sharp features.
Then he opened a small tin of powder.
"This is baking soda, powdered castile soap and crushed mints," he explained, dipping the sterilized brush into it. "I hope that doesn't sound so health-hazard to you."
I took it from him, giving it a cautious sniff. No barnyard scent, just minty.
"Has anyone…used this before me?"
Casimir shook his head.
"I had a set made for myself with several extras. It is untouched."
I looked at the brush, then up at him, my brain still processing the horror of the pig hair.
Well…horse hair is quite hygienic…right? Surely, they were constantly groomed, right?
Please, just let me be right. For my sanity's sake, please, let me be right.
"Is the horse it came from…you know… still alive?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He leaned in just enough for his breath to fan across my face.
Minty.
"The stallion is one of my prized possessions, Clara. He's quite well. In fact," his eyes dropped to the line of bubbles barely covering my breast, "would you like to take a ride with him later to verify for yourself?"