I saw the same opportunity he did last night, and I took it. It doesn’t matter to me that I’m winging it here. I’ll figure it out. There’s no option but success, because I won’t be giving up Hollis. No way, no how.
Chapter
Ten
Hollis
Feliks gave me privacy to pack the things I deemed necessary for a few days at his place. He’s such an unexplainable mixture of obsessively in my face and considerately respecting my space. It’s enough to give a girl whiplash. I can’t complain too much, though. His inattention as I packed allowed me to grab everything necessary to set up my scheduled cam session for the night.
I’m sure this is the last thing he expected me to do with the evening once he dumped us off at his home and skedaddled off to do whatever mobbed-up shit he does. Whatever. If he demands we stay here, I’ll do what I need to do to ensure I have a fallback plan for when he changes his mind.
Dru’s asleep in that dead-to-the-world way only kids can manage. I peek at the video monitor I brought from our place and verify she’s actually out cold. She’s long past the age where a baby monitor is necessary, but it pays to be cautious. I’munashamed of how I earn a living, but that doesn’t mean I want my little girl seeing me do it.
She won’t always sleep so deeply, and it’s always been a long-term plan to create a more secure room in our house to do my cam sessions. Tonight, though, I’ve got the advantage of a guest room at Feliks’ place that manages to be both luxurious and completely nondescript. I don’t know who his decorator is, but they’ve got zero flair. The room is all high-end furniture that’s bland enough to be in a luxury hotel.
With Dru reliably asleep in the room next to this one, and my gear all set up for a show, I log on and get into the mindset of the scene. In honor of the utterly generic high-end vibe of the room, the whole house really, I grabbed a silly old-fashioned maid costume I haven’t used in ages when I packed at my place earlier today.
Once I’ve got on the tiny black dress with its frilly white apron, I turn on the camera. I twirl around the room, vamping it up as I pretend to dust with a soft rag I found beneath the sink. Quiet dings announce the growing number of viewers as notifications to subscribers catches the attention of my paid preferred members. The subscription service allows them to log on sooner than the pay-per-view audience. In theory, it also increases the likelihood the cam-performer will interact with them directly, though I already know tonight won’t be one of those nights for me.
“Welcome to this space tonight, my Guys, Gays, and Theys. As you can see, I’m on location, in a room that’s been begging for my attention. Come with me while I pin back these silky curtains, strip the bed until it’s completely bare, and handle every inch until it’s spotless and shiny,” I simper, my voice dropped low and sultry for the audience.
Immediately, the muted peal of coins being deposited chimes, the site’s way of indicated tips being received. Everyoneloves a role-play night, and my viewers love a good dose of innuendo in particular.
A quick glance at my laptop screen shows comments rolling in fast and furious.
“Jealous of that pillow the way she’s humping it to reach the headboard.”
“I’ve got a mess in my lap for you to clean up, HoliMolly.”
“Ride a vacuum next, Holi. And spank it like it’s not sucking hard enough.”
Their comments spur me on until I’m rolling my hips over the pillows of the bed as if I’m at a rodeo. I arch my back and reach high to ‘dust’ the generic landscape framed above the bed with my impromptu cleaning rag, my other hand stroking along the headboard the way I would a lover. Appreciative hums and little moans are the only acknowledgment I give individual comments. It feels a little wrong to engage one-on-one with specific viewers while I’m camming in Feliks’ house.
There’s an illicit thrill to it though, too. My panties are sodden beneath my tiny skirt, something that usually takes way more active effort to make happen. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s being here; in Feliks’ space without him knowing the naughtiness I’m up to, that has me cranked up. The risk of it.
Coins continue to clang into the online coffer, the comments moving too fast for me to keep up, now. I’ll review the logs later to see what landed and what my viewers were less interested in. One of the first things I did, once I built my platform, was take an online coding course that taught me how to mine the data from my sessions to match up comment frequency, pay, and what was going on during peaks of both.
I’ve got nothing against camming. How can I when it’s the safest wayto sell sex safely? It saved me from the days of working on my back and helped me get Dru out of the shithole apartment I could barely afford when I was hooking.
Being a bop, a sex worker, isn’t my end goal. I’ll be a businesswoman one day, and the more I perfect the algorithm to amplify my earnings on this camming platform, the more I realize the goldmine I’m sitting on. That’s a tomorrow thought, though. Tonight, I need to focus on giving the current viewers the show they’re paying for.
“Oh, all this cleaning is making meso hot!” I simper for the camera set up on a portable tripod.
After a short pause to make sure everyone’s locked in and paying attention, I shrug the elastic sleeves of the stretchy costume down each arm and push the bodice of my maid outfit to my waist. I may be young, but going through pregnancy ensured I have curves in all the right places. My fingers trail along the stretchmarks gone silver with the passage of time as I run my hands up my abdomen to cup my breasts.
There’s a frenzy of coins plinking as the viewers get more and more amped up. Instead of giving them more of what they want, nudity, I spin toward the bed and prance to where I’ve deliberately rumpled the blankets.
“I love the way soft sheets feel when they’ve been perfectly smoothed.” My hands match the words, stroking over sheets with a thread count so high I can’t even hazard a guess how much they cost.
“Oops, I think I missed a smudge of something on the glass.” I climb onto the mattress, my knees splayed wide enough to stretch the fabric of the itty bitty skirt until I’m certain just a hint of my panties peeks from between my legs.
“My cleaning supplies are way over there, though. What should I do?” I ask the empty room, knowing my loyal subscribers can guess exactly where this is going.
I knee walk to the head of the bed and turn to face the wall. Giving my back to the camera, I reach beneath my skirt and pull my panties down to mid-thigh. Each lift of my legs to workthem below my knees then off gives a quick flash of cheek to the viewers.
Dangling the scrap of fabric from my finger, I lean close to the wall and stretch to the top of the picture frame. At this angle, the camera should be catching just a hint of my pussy. Not enough to satisfy my lusty audience, but enough to build their anticipation. There’s not a speck of dust or dirt in this entire place, but no one would ever believe it if they heard my pout of dismay.
“This stubborn smudge just won’t wipe away,” I whine, the petulance in my voice enough to make the more Dommy viewers picture punishing me for brattiness.
