Talk? I nearly laugh at the absurdity of the request.
CurvyBabe:You sure spent a lot of money just to talk. It won’t take me long to slip into something you’d like and turn on my camera.
DineroDaddy:Tempting. So goddamned tempting. But I just want to talk to you.
I’ve had odd requests in the past. People wanting to see my feet, wanting to see me go to the bathroom, and one that wanted me to dress up as a cat. Not a sexy cat, no, a full-on cat costume. But no one has ever just wanted to talk. It was odd…yet refreshing.
CurvyBabe:Okay, Daddy. What do you want to talk about?
DineroDaddy:Fuck, maybe I do want to hear you call me Daddy on camera.
CurvyBabe:Still time to change your mind…
DineroDaddy:You are tempting, mi reina. So damn tempting, like a siren. But I’ll stick with my original plan. Get to know you. Tell me anything about you.
I can’t help the wave of disappointment that washes over me. Until I remember how much he’s spending just totalk, then I perk right back up. Still, I have to carefully navigate this conversation because keeping my identity a secret is important to me.
CurvyBabe:Well, I like to read. Usually books that will make my grandma roll over in her grave. And I also love superhero movies. For the aesthetics, of course.
Thank God for spandex and hot asses. I mean, why else watch a superhero movie?
DineroDaddy:Does your boyfriend make you watch those movies?
I hesitate, rereading his message again. It’s not uncommon for my viewers to ask about my personal life. They all want to know if my partner knows I pleasure myself for strangers online. As if a girl can’t have a hobby without asking permission. I’m not certain this is information I want to divulge yet, so I play with him like a cat to a mouse.
CurvyBabe:Bold of you to assume I have a boyfriend.
DineroDaddy:Girlfriend, then.
I know he’s fishing for information, and normally, I’d steer the conversation somewhere else. I’ve always been careful about what I share, keeping parts of myself tucked away for the sake of privacy and safety. But with DineroDaddy, it feels different, since no one has ever just wanted to talk. I can’t fully explain it, and I definitely can’t justify it, but something about it has me lowering my guard.
Maybe it’s the way he’s consistently shown up—always at the top of my contributor list, always commenting, liking, engaging during lives like he’s actually listening. His steady presence makes him feel like someone I know—someone who sees more of me than just the show. It’s not something I feel with the others.
Again, I realize this is delusional and probably stupid, but feelings rarely make logical sense. And sometimes fighting those feelings takes too much energy to manage.
CurvyBabe:No girlfriend either. I prefer the single life and my freedom. I’ve had my share of bad relationships, and I’m perfectly content with being alone. Besides, a girlfriend who is a sex worker would intimidate most men. Don’t you think?
DineroDaddy:Seems to me you’ve dated weak men.
Despite myself, I laugh. He’s not wrong, but he didn’t have to call me out like that. Damn. In my defense, my past boyfriends felt like knights in shining armor at the start of our relationships. But don’t they always until they have to prove themselves worth your time?
CurvyBabe:Hence why I’m by myself, Daddy. I get to talk to sexy men like you and give myself amazing orgasms. Much better than being disappointed by a man who thinks three minutes is gold medal worthy.
DineroDaddy:How do you know I’m sexy?
CurvyBabe:You got big dick energy. That makes you sexy. Obviously.
DineroDaddy:Careful, mi reina. Keep talking like that and I will change my mind about that private show.
I smirk at the screen, a familiar flutter stirring low in my belly again. Part of me still hopes for that private show. It would be fun. He has this way of toeing the line—flirty without being crude, dominant without being demanding. It’s a rare combo in this line of work. Most men crash through boundaries like angry bulls, but not him. DineroDaddy is smooth with his words. Too damn smooth. Two can play that game, though.
CurvyBabe:Then maybe I want you to change your mind.
I send the message before I can overthink it, before I can remind myself that I don’t actually know this man. Even if I feel like I do. That no matter how sweet or consistent he seems online, he’s still a stranger. I was taught stranger danger in school, so I should know better. But something in me is leaning in, curious, maybe even reckless, and I’m letting the feeling lead me.
His typing bubble appears immediately, then disappears. Appears again. Whatever he’s writing, he’s rewriting. Thinking. Is his heart beating as fast as mine? God, I hope it is.
When his message finally lands, it’s not what I expect.
