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I mean…what do I care if she’s flaunting her shit online? She’s a brat anyway, and it’s certainly none of my business.
Quickly, I click out of the live feed and scroll a few other camgirl options, but the nagging reminder that my twenty-three-year-old stepsister is putting herself on display in front of all those creeps, who are probably thinking and saying some pretty deplorable stuff to her, bothers me enough to click right back into her broadcast.
Mia is screwing on the cap of her soft pink nail polish while going on and on about how she considers herself more of a homebody than a club girl. Then she shows us the spiked seltzer she’s drinking and asks viewers to comment with what they’re drinking.
I cannot tear my eyes away. It’s her…but it’s just a few shades off from being the real Mia. I just got off the phone with her a couple hours ago, and I try to remember how she sounded when she was talking to me compared to how she sounds now. With me, she was a little more agitated, defensive, and she chewed on the inside corner of her mouth when she wasn’t speaking.
The girl on the phone screen now isn’t quite Mia.
I see her bedroom in the lake house in the background. Where the hell is my mother and stepdad? She wouldn’t do this with them at home, would she?
Fuck! What the fuck is Mia doing on a webcam app?
Maybe she just does these livestreams for fun. To make a little side-hustle cash. It can't be any more than that. She definitely doesn’t take her clothes off on camera or do any of the nasty, depraved things I’m sure these seventeen—nope, now twenty-one—thousand people want her to do.
At the bottom of the screen, the comments from other users scroll, and most of them are tame enough. They probably have filters in place to keep men from being predatory in the comments. There’s a space for me to leave one of my own, but I don’t. Along the side are more buttons, one to message her, for a fee, of course, and another to request a private video chat.
It’s just a default setting. Mia doesn’t do that.
No, no, no, no, no.
My drunk conscience is warring with this feeling of overprotectiveness because that’s my little sister. But there’s something else taking up space in my head too…something that doesn’t have a name, but it echoes in an unfamiliar cadence: mine, mine, mine.
It’s that nameless shade of testosterone-fueled possessiveness that drives me to punch my thumb against theRequest a Private Roombutton.
What…am I doing?
A pop-up notification appears over Mia’s video, informing me that her private room rate is $450 an hour, and I barely blink an eye before hitting the greenProceedbutton.
The popup goes away, and I watch as Mia’s eyes on the camera slant down to the bottom of her screen, as if she’s reading a notification. A moment later, she addresses her viewers.
“All right guys, this polish is dried, so I’m gonna head to bed. Have a great night, babes! And don’t drink too much!”
A second later, my screen goes black.
WickedKitten214 accepted your private room invitation. Would you like to give camera access?
Give camera access? No.
Would you like to give microphone access?
I really didn’t think this through. No. Mia can’t hear or see me. I don’t even know what I’m going to say, but I think when I requested this room, I did it thinking I could confront her about this. But is that what I want to do? Or do I want to see just how far she’s willing to go in these private chats?
Microphone access…no.
A moment later, she’s on the screen again, but instead of displaying the huge number of viewers in the top corner, it looks more like a regular video call. My username appears in the corner: Player428.
“Hello there,” she says in a flirty drawl. “Oh…you’re going to be shy, huh? That’s okay. Just send me messages in the chat box. I’ll get you to open up eventually. These private rooms can be intimidating at first.”
She’s carrying the phone through her bedroom, but I can’t see much more than her face and the top of her chest. For a minute, I just stare at her round cheeks and the contrast of her white teeth against her dark-stained lips. Why have I never noticed how flawless Mia’s skin is? Or how full her lips are?
“Why don’t you start by telling me your name?”
I hesitate with my fingers over the text box. What should I say? For some reason, the only other person I could see doing this, flirting with women so openly, comes to mind…
Drake
I watch her eyes read the message and a smirk pulls at her lips. “I like that name. Okay, Drake…it’s Friday night and you’re here chatting with me. Are you drinking anything?”
