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I’ve honed my actual skills from being provocative on screen to just sounding like I care.
Okay, that sounded heartless. Idosort of care. Or rather, I get paid to care.
After I hang up with Gregg, I consider turning my cam back on to try and find another VIP request in the livestream chats, but I somehow let the next hour go by surfing Tumblr on my phone.
My dad and stepmom are currently out on the boat with their friends, so I’m left alone in the house, which makes it easy for me to work.
We come up to the lake every summer, and even though I’m twenty-three, plenty old enough to get my own place, I enjoy coming up here each year. I realize I’m probably supposed to be partying in Cancun or Vegas with other twenty-something-year-olds, but that’s really not my style. I’m really more of a comfortable-where-I-am kind of girl.
My parents live like they’re already empty nesters, regardless of the fact that I haven’t exactly left the nest yet. It just means they’re gone a lot, don’t worry about me, and give me all the privacy and Wi-Fi service I need.
The camgirl thing is a fairly new gig. I stumbled upon it last fall when a friend of mine from cosmetology school—which I recently dropped out of—told me about the money she was making, without even having to leave the house. I’m a people person, and being a tease was always my strong suit, so I figured it would be perfect for me.
It was awkward at first, flirting with strange men, especially since I used to be so self-conscious about my body. I always thought this sort of thing was for super fit, toned girls who had the confidence to strut around in string bikinis. But there’s no thigh gap between these legs, and my tits might be full and squishy, but so is my ass.
Then, I quickly learned, some guys like it that way. Some of themreallylike it that way.
Soon, getting naked for men—doing stuff to myself for them—made me a little more confident in the shape of my body. It’s funny to think about my first session, when I was so nervous I could barely show the tiniest glimpse of pussy, and now I’m perfectly comfortable spreading it for the camera.
Sure, I get the big tips that way. But I also really fucking love the way it feels, even though I cannot explain why.
Now, this is my job. I flirt, do a little strip tease, touch myself, and on a good day, I might actually get an orgasm out of it. Then I get paid. I mean…who could complain?
After tossing on something more decent than the black lingerie I had on, I head upstairs. I’m halfway through making an iced coffee in the kitchen, with my five-year-old black cat, Betty, weaving around my legs, when my phone rings. Glancing down, I see my stepbrother’s name on the incoming video call, and I freeze.
Why the hell is Garrett trying to video call me?
Out of pure curiosity, I answer, propping my phone up against the backsplash, so he can see me while I continue putting together my caramel caffeine concoction.
“Don’t hang up,” he says as soon as it connects.
“Okay…” Glancing down at the phone, I see that he’s shirtless and sweating, his cheeks red and his hair wet. A white towel hangs around his neck, but I force myself to look away. “What’s up?” I ask, trying to remain cordial, even though Garrett has literally never been nice to me in my entire life. Why would he when he could torture me instead?
My dad couldn’t have married someone with a nice son. Preferably an ugly one, too. Why did my luck just happen to land me with a stepbrother who is the complete opposite of those two things?
“How’s your dad?”
Well, that question throws me off. He knows my dad has been battling cancer for two years now, but it’s never inspired him to reach out or even come over, so why now?
“Umm…the same, I guess.”
“What are you drinking?” he asks, suddenly changing the subject.
“An iced coffee,” I reply with my lips around the metal straw.
“I’m not sure you need more energy.”
“Did you call me just to judge my lifestyle?” I bite back.
I pick up my phone and carry it, facing me, up to the third-floor balcony. The sun is about to set, and it’s breathtaking from here. Something I refuse to miss each evening. Sometimes I even bring my cam out here and let my viewers watch me prop my feet up on the balcony and sip my coffee while the sun sets over the lake. It’s usually when the creepers drop into my inbox to tell me they want to slap my tits or bend me over the railing or something else super vulgar, but I ignore them. No one ruins this moment for me.
Setting my phone up against the planter on my patio table, I let my stepbrother watch me instead. The only difference here is that I can see him, and as I glance over, I notice that he has his phone propped up too and is currently stretching, giving me a full-screen view of his long, lean muscles, under perfect sun-kissed skin, with a trail of dark body hair leading down his chiseled abs, disappearing into his shorts—
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes,” I lie.
“Then what did I just say?”
