I can’t and I do, still struggling for air. Lack of saliva is no longer a problem.
“You should wear heaps of mascara,” Finley says, unleashing her inner sexpert. “Otherwise, it’s a waste of your eyes watering. You could go full raccoon.”
“And that’s attractive?”
Now it’s Rosa’s turn to giggle. “Half the attraction of makeup is making it run down your face while you’re choking on cock.” She pauses for a second. “So I’ve heard.”
“Just keep going.” Finley angles the camera as my hands work the shaft. “You’re doing a blow job, not a handy. Get your mouth back in there.” When I oblige, Rosa guiding me less roughly this time, she clicks her tongue in approval. “Jesus, you’re pretty. You could do this for real.”
I slap the table twice, not because I’m choking this time—my mouth and throat appear to have worked out where the impossibly large phallus can be stored—but because I want to talk.
“That video better be for private use only. If I find this uploaded on a site, I’m going to break your face, tie you up, and shag your girlfriend in front of you.”
“Promises, promises.” Finley’s eyes light up so much I have to reconsider my threat.
“Then I’ll set your room on fire.”
“Don’t worry. This is for my private porn collection only.”
Rosa gives a tiny snort. “And how many people are privy to this ‘private’ collection?”
“Just me and my current flavour of the month. Get busy. I don’t have all day.”
Like a trooper, I get back to work.
By the time I get a rave review, my jaw feels like it’s halfway to being permanently dislocated. On the last take, I set my phone up to video the whole thing and then play it back, alternately disgusted and impressed with myself.
“Don’t edit it,” Rosa warns when I fiddle with the recording. “You’ll just end up tying yourself in knots trying to make it perfect when the imperfection’s the thing.”
“Eh?” Finley glances at her with a puzzled expression, saving me the bother.
“People put requests through these apps because they want real people doing real things. If they wanted perfect, they’d buy ready-made porn, not DIY. Just post it the way it is and let it go.”
I post the video and immediately a sick feeling enters my gut and settles there. My chest grows tighter and tighter until I have to concentrate to breathe.
What have I done? Everyone will see me.
The app is set to private, but that means nothing. If Zach could go in and set the whole thing up, then he can get in to change it. I might walk into school tomorrow and find everyone glued to their phones, watching my performance. Casting judgement.
I grip the edge of the table in my hands, forcing my lungs to inhale, then exhale, then inhale until the panic subsides. The photos were just as racy, and they haven’t gone anywhere they shouldn’t.
That you know about.
There’s a ringing noise and I don’t understand what it is until Finley yells to me, “Lily. Phone.”
I stare in disbelief at the landline, then take it from her impatient hand. “Hello?”
“Lilac Tanner?” When I respond in the affirmative, the female voice says, “It’s Hannah Wiremu. I’m part of the team of social workers who are assigned to your sister, Sierra Furnham.”
“Sierra?” My knees buckle and I slide down the wall until my arse hits the floor. “Is she okay?”
“Have you been in contact with her lately?”
My lips buzz and my tongue feels numb as I try to answer. My eyelids want to shut and never open again. “I’m always… Yes. We had a visit last week and…”
“What about other methods?”
Other methods? My brain is so scrambled I can’t follow. “W-what? Is she all right? Is Sierra okay?”
