I’m gonna need something stronger than nicotine. I can’t form any words. I just gaze at her finger circling her nipple, her soothing voice hypnotising me like a siren putting me under her spell.
After a beat too long, I croak out, “Do you want to touch yourself?”
She smiles. “If you are, I think it’s only fair that you allow me to do the same, don’t you, sir?”
I lean closer to the computer, my mask coming into view.
She gasps. “Hey there. That’s not creepy at all.”
I chuckle. “Was that sarcasm?”
“No, sir.” The cheeky dimple on her cheek winks at me. How I’d love to spin her around and smack that big ass, take a bite out of it, dig my fingers into all those delicious creases.
“Stop being a troublesome brat and show me how you touch yourself.” The mask hides a sheen of sweat on my face amongst a multitude of sins. This isn’t me. The last time I watched porn was in the army, and even then it was for a laugh with the lads. It’s never been something I’ve done to get off. The fakeness of it all is meaningless. But watching Lilly hits different. My balls draw up so damn tight. My stomach burns from tension. I need a release.
“Yes, sir.” With one hand, she props herself up on the bed as she leans her body backwards. Her other hand slips behind the lace of her knickers. She widens her legs on the corner of the bed. The same corner I fixed. Her hand disappears further inside her lace knickers, and she moans. Her tits bounce as she rubs her hand beneath the lace. It’s more sexy than if she were completely naked, but I’ve seen enough porn to know it’s not real. She’s a good actress, but I can tell by her face she’s putting on a show for me.
“Are you wet, baby?” I say, almost annoyed, knowing she’s playing up to the camera.
“Yes.” She bounces again, moaning and fondling herself under the lace. “Yes, sir. You make me so wet.”
A chuckle leaves my lips. I’m almost glad that this is what she does. That nobody else has seen her come. “All right, nightingale. You can stop the show. This ain’t no theatrical audition.”
Her eyes flick back to the screen, and she pulls her hand from her knickers. “What do you mean? I thought?—”
“Did you really think you could fool me with that shit? I hate to break it to you, baby, but you’re not that good of an actress.”
“You asshole.” She picks her pyjama top off the bed and yanks it over her head. It’s a bright yellow top with a cartoon character on the front, reminding me of the little girl I used to know. Fuck, I am an asshole. A sick, twisted fucking asshole.
“Stop your huffing and put your bottoms on, then we can talk.” I pull my hand from my joggers, my dick going soft at the realisation that this is the same little girl I used to lift onto my shoulders so she could see the stage at the local summer music festival. The same girl I used to buy sweets for when I returned from tours. And the same girl I tucked into bed and read a story the night after her father passed away.
She pulls her knickers off, but keeps her legs together, her thick thighs and belly hiding any chance of a glimpse of her pussy before she pulls her shorts on. “If I’m such a crap actress, why did you want to pay me for a month?”
“I told you, I just want to talk.” Sickness coats my mouth. A bitter taste that I swallow and light up another cigarette.
She sits on the edge of the bed in her yellow shorts and t-shirt, looking more vulnerable than she did a moment ago. As if the act was her mask and armour and now she’s just herself in her bedroom. “What do you want to talk about?” she says in a huff as she crosses her arms.
“I just want to talk about your day.” Flicking the ash in the tray, I lean closer but keep my head from view while I have the mask rolled up. “But let me make one thing clear. I don’t want you faking any of that shit with me. You hear?”
“Yes.” Her eyes roll, and she looks away from the camera, a blush creeping up her neck.
“Yes, what?”
She stares into the camera. “Yes, sir.”
“When you touch yourself, I want it to be real. If you don’t want to touch yourself. Don’t. You don’t need to pretend because you think it’s what I want.” I pull the mask back over my mouthand put my head in the frame. “I want you to be yourself. Be real and honest with me. No lies, or I’ll know. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” She clasps her hands together and rests them on her inked thighs.
I lean back in the chair, lifting the mask to take another drag. I should get one with a hole for the mouth, but then she might notice my chipped tooth. Fuck. There isn’t a damn thing unrecognisable about me. “Tell me about your day, nightingale.”
“I was just at work. It was uneventful, really.” She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, looking around as if she’s bored with this conversation already.
“Do you work in A&E or on a ward?” I clear my throat. “I’m assuming you’re a nurse in real life and not just for your subscribers.”
“Yes, I work at the hospital. I’m currently on a ward while I’m training. I do A&E occasionally for insight days.” She looks down, fiddling with the drawstring on her shorts. “If anyone found out I do this on the side, I could lose my position. It’s against the nursing code of conduct to wear a naughty nurse costume.”
“Then don't wear it again. It doesn't suit you anyway, it's too cheap for you.”
