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Cami:
Right back atcha.
I set my phone on the end table and listened to the weather forecast for the weekend. Sunny and eighty would be perfect. I could open the windows and allow some fresh air into the house. On second thought, maybe not if a killer was running around.
With the murderer information finally sinking into my thick head, a wave of terror crashed over me as the thought cemented itself in my gut. A murderer, lurking in my neighborhood. My heart pounded in my chest as I checked all the door and window locks, the sound of each latch clicking into place echoing with a sense of finality and protection. But could anything truly keep out a determined killer?
Returning to the couch, I shuffled through the junk mail, then spotted the dreaded envelope I’d been expecting. My stomach somersaulted as I opened the bill and stared at the amount due.
“Shit.” I threw the letter on the side table and rubbed my face with my hands. My mind raced, a frantic whirlwind of calculations, sifting through my expenses for areas I could tighten. Every hard-earned penny mattered. My day job as a paralegal took care of most living expenses—barely. When I’d bought the house, my finances were in perfect order, but those relentless medical bills wouldn't let up. Yet, wallowing in despair over circumstances out of my control was pointless.
With a renewed determination to push forward through the overwhelm, I hopped off the sofa and swiped my cell off the end table. I walked past the kitchen and down the short hall.
My one-story home was tucked away at the end of the cul-de-sac, and the back of the house faced a green space. Within, it boasted two sunlit bedrooms, each decorated with soft shades of browns, personal mementos, and pictures of family vacations evoking warmth and comfort.
The en suite bathroom showcased a large jetted tub and separate shower while the other sported a sleek, modern shower and tub combo. The open-concept layout seamlessly melded the living, dining, and kitchen areas, letting conversations and scents flow freely between them.
Vaulted ceilings towered overhead, adorned with wooden beams that added depth to the space. Large windows sprinkled throughout allowed generous sunlight to spill in during the day, casting golden hues and dancing shadows upon the dark hardwood floors. But beyond its physical attributes, what filled me with immense pride was the fact that every corner, nook, and cranny of this cherished space was completely mine.
“Alexa, light on.” My lamp blinked to life as I entered the bedroom.
A lavender duvet was draped over my queen-sized bed and matching pillows were propped against the headboard. On the opposite side, a vintage wooden dresser stood, its surface neatly organized.
My favorite part of the space was the cozy reading nook nestled by the window, equipped with a comfortable grey chair, soft throw pillows, and a lavender blanket.
Against the other wall was my workstation that housed my MacBook. Opening my laptop, I turned it on and waited as the machine whirred to life. My fingernails clicked against the keys as I pulled up the website and logged in. Once I’d collected my mobile camera, I headed to the en suite bathroom. In seconds, I’d stripped and discarded my jeans and teal-colored top onto the tiled floor. Maybe I should feel shame or guilt about how I earned my additional income, but I didn’t. It was my secret. No one knew. Not even Cami.
Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of loneliness washed over me. Instead of taking home hot bartenders at the end of the night, my interactions were limited to men on the other side of a screen, lacking any real personal connection. For me, the job was primarily a means to pay my bills, and usually, the absence of a meaningful relationship in my life hadn't bothered me, but for some reason it stung at the moment. Although I had a few relationships in the past, none were worth reminiscing about. Maybe the rush of emotion was because the bartender had flirted with me, or maybe it had been my conversation with Cami. I wasn’t sure.
“It’s not like you don’t enjoy your work sometimes,” I reminded myself while I opened the shower door and walked inside. Pushing up on my tiptoes, I placed the camera strategically on the top ledge and turned on the water. Realizing I’d set my phone near my computer, I hurried to grab it. I pulled up the app and tapped the red record button.
Steam billowed from under the hot spray and into the bathroom as I stepped beneath it and secured the door behind me. Glancing up, I made sure the webcam was at the right angle. With a few pumps of my vanilla and peach body wash, I slowly lathered up my breasts. I took my time and gave them extra attention for the video. Water streamed between my soapy tits and trickled down my stomach, and my fingertips followed the trail until I reached my thighs. Careful to not lose my balance, I propped one foot on the shower seat, allowing the camera full access to my pussy.
My fingers spread my sensitive flesh and massaged my clit for the camera. I leaned against the wall for balance as I moaned. The longer I continued to touch myself, the more money I would make. The key was to draw it out for as long as I could.
Closing my eyes, the handsome bartender flashed before me. His corded biceps and strong hands were the first thing I’d noticed about him as he waited on customers at the club. The name on his tag had read Sebastian. When he spoke, his Australian accent had made my entire body tingle. Imagining that he was on his knees in front of me, his tongue expertly teasing and prodding at my tender flesh as he slid his finger inside me made my core clench with longing. My back arched as he ravaged my body with his mouth, then spun me around and plunged his thick cock inside me from behind.
My legs trembled with the fantasy as a sweet sensation swirled in my lower belly. After another five minutes of recording, I allowed myself to cum, adding a bit of extra drama for the performance. I licked the water droplets off my mouth as I rinsed the suds off my tanned skin.
I turned off the water and opened the door, displaying my backside as I stepped out on the fluffy brown mat and reached for the plush matching towel on the rack. Seductively, I winked at the camera before I disappeared out of the bathroom and turned off the recording from my app. With a few clicks of the mouse, I loaded the video. I wrapped the towel around me and sat in the chair, waiting.
Ten minutes later, the video was edited, and I uploaded it to the adult website.
Hope you enjoy how wet I am for you, I typed before I submitted it for anyone who wanted to pay to watch.
A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth as a message popped up in the chat box.
Are you there? Shadow Whisperer asked.
Whoever was behind the username was one of my best customers over the last year, and I always tried to give him a little extra.
I typed out my response. For you, always.
Can we talk tonight?
My shoulders sagged with exhaustion. Sometimes conversations would last for hours. Maybe I should mention that I had a very short block of time.
Only for half an hour.
