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I giggle, but my heart’s racing and I want to do it. Slowly, I bend over, exposing everything. I feel so naughty, but so sexy and empowered too. I hear him gasp.
Skating back to him, I drop the panties in front of my laptop like I’m dropping them in his lap.
“Would you care for dessert, sir? It’s our specialty.”
“What could possibly be on the menu that’s better than what I’ve already ordered?” he asks, those blue eyes gleaming.
“This,” I say, slowly unbuttoning my dress the rest of the way. The uniform is a one-piece and it slips off my shoulders, pooling at my feet. I’m completely nude now, save for a pair of roller-skates and colorful knee-high socks.
The expression on his handsome face is strained as he takes me in. My pussy lips are wet already, and they glisten under the low lights.
“Jesus, Whitney. I don’t know how to keep going like this without seeing you in person. I need you sweetheart.”
Then, there’s a tell-tale dinging noise and my eyes skate over to the counter on the computer screen. Peter just added two thousand dollars to my account! But it’s not just about money. He meets my eyes, those blue eyes dark with desire.
“I can tell this is more than just a job for you. I can see that you’re just as turned on as I am. Your body doesn’t lie, sweetheart.”
I blush, palming my breasts with my hands.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Pete. Who wouldn’t be turned on by attention from a guy like you? I feel like I should be ashamed of the thoughts I’ve had about you over the last week, but I’m not. I can’t believe that I’m standing here completely naked talking to you like this and yet, it feels good. I like it.”
His eyes flare.
“You’ll be perfectly safe if we meet in person. I promise. You can give my address to a friend so someone will know where you are. And it’s not just the physical attraction, sweetheart. You make me laugh and you’re smart. The gods Apollo and Demeter have destined us to meet.”
I giggle a bit while shimmying my hips seductively.
“I’ll consult Apollo on his motivation for bringing us together.”
“Fair enough. I have to go now. I don’t want to be the pervert that releases his sexual tension in front of you, unless you’re into that…?”
My face flushes as I realize what he means.
“Pete, you’ve made me discover all sorts of new things I’m interested in, but let’s leave something for next time.”
Waving goodbye, I click off the camera and grab my robe. As I’m unlacing my skates, my LiveFans account pings. Oh my god, PeterC has sent me five thousand dollars and a note. My eyes scan the words eagerly.
I hope you’ll consider meeting me in person, Whitney. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.
I blink, stunned by the amount of money that I just made for a one-hour private show. Then, I take a cold shower because if I think more about what’s happening, I’ll ask him to come over right now.
I decide I need some objective advice on this because I’m so clouded with lust I can’t see straight. I FaceTime with Alvina. I haven’t talked to her in almost a week and I miss her sassy advice.
“Hey lovely!” she answers the call, curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.
“Hey Alvina, am I interrupting a Netflix and chill night with Derek?”
She makes a face.
“No. He got mad about me flirting with 1984 Kevin Bacon. And because drunk-ass Steven told him I knew he wasn’t messing around with that girl, and I was just making him suffer for a little while. What a lousy big brother.”
“Nothing good ever comes out of cheap draft beer.”
She sighs.
“I don’t know what to do. Do you think I should call him?” Alvina kicks off. “I mean, this is so messed-up, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I definitely think you should call him. And apologize. You really liked him and then got stupid jealous because you liked him so much. I love you, girl, but you messed up this one. I’m calling you out because you asked.”
She sighs again, leaning back comfortably with her big bowl of popcorn.
“I know you’re right. I’ve spent a week exploring the dark recesses of Netflix and stuffing my face with Oreos. Did you know there are eleven different documentaries on hairless cats? And what kind of self respecting baker’s assistant eats Oreos?”
I smile.
“Aww, you’re a baker too, not a baker’s assistant. You simply went to the Whitney Porter school of pastries and confections, that’s all.”
She brightens.
“I like that name. That’s what you should call your vlog!”
I blink.
“You saw my vlog?”
“Of course I did. I’m not sitting over here just watching The Evolution of Hairless Cats and Hairless Cats in Hollywood.”
