While He Watches

by S. E. Law

“Hey, don’t be like that. This was your idea, remember? And if you want your cat food, then you better get on board!” I call after my cat.

  Apollo merely meows disdainfully and walks on. How sad. Well, hopefully someone will show up for my cam show so I have someone to talk to that doesn’t walk on four legs.

  I dress like I’m going out for a casual date. I put on my favorite, most flattering jeans and a top with lots of cleavage. I’ve arranged my bed into a colorful display of pillow and throws, pulling cushions from my couch to make it look inviting. The deep jewel tones of the stacks of pillows remind me of a desert oasis filled with harem girls and belly dancers. I like the vibe and find it sexy.

  I set up my laptop so that only me and the bed are in the frame. I don’t want anyone to see particulars, like my diploma on the wall or the photo of myself and my grandma in Paris. That would be creepy. Then again, there are so many more logistics involved in this than I anticipated. The site I’m using is called LiveFans and my screen name is CurvyGal. I don’t think I could handle it if guys logged in expecting some lithe, petite girl and upon seeing me, logged right back out. I want to be as upfront as I can without giving away too much.

  My heart races and my palms are sweaty as I click the ‘go live’ button. Oh my god, am I really ready? A million thoughts run through my head. What if no one shows up? What should I be doing while I wait for customers to log in? What am I going to say? It’s nine o’clock at night, should I have started earlier? Or maybe later? Should I have music in the background? Did Willow have music?

  I decide to put some sexy music on in the background and grab my phone to search for something appropriate when suddenly, my laptop alerts me that I have a viewer. I am panic stricken but recover quickly enough to greet PeterC.

  “Hi, Peter. Thanks for joining my show. My name is Whitney,” I say in what I hope is a sexy voice.

  Oh damn! It just dawned on me that I shouldn’t have used my real name. Shit, what was I thinking?

  “Hi, Whitney. Great smile,” Peter types.

  “Aw, thanks, Pete. Is it ok to call you Pete?”

  “You can call me anything you like,” appears in his chat box. It’s a little weird for me to talk while he types, but I guess this is just how cam shows work.

  Besides, it’s my first customer and the situation hasn’t blown up yet. This guy seems nice. Maybe he’s some nerdy guy who’s awkward with women in real life. Maybe it’s my job to make him feel less awkward. That thought gives me more confidence. I decide to share with him that this is my first show in case he feels nervous too.

  “Well, Pete, I have to tell you, this is my first cam show actually. I’m stuck at home like most of the country and decided to give it a try.”

  PeterC sends me $5.

  “Thank you for the tip, Pete!”

  “You’re welcome,” he types. “What do you do when you’re not stuck at home due to a crazy virus?” he continues.

  I debate how to answer that. I decide to go with a broad generalization of the truth.

  “I work in the food service industry.”

  “Interesting. I’m afraid I have to take a call, Whitney. But it was really nice to meet you.”

  PeterC logs off. Oh my god, did I screw up? Why did he log off so quickly? But then, I see that PeterC just tipped me fifty dollars.

  I hate to say it, but fifty dollars is a lot, and my mouth drops open as I look at the number on the screen. I can eat! I can send money to my parents! All was not for naught!

  I end the cam show before anyone else can join and try to calm down for a moment. I’m pleased with the money I made briefly chatting with one guy. Pleased is putting it lightly. I’m ecstatic, and that went better than in my wildest imaginations.

  I decide to make this my regular time to post. Some tips I’ve been reading around the web said that to attract repeat viewers, you should maintain a regular schedule. LiveFans has given me a webpage and I post my tentative show times there.

  It’s interesting not knowing who you’re talking to. It really sparks the imagination. Am I conversing with someone who’s feeling lonely because his girlfriend just broke up with him? Am I talking to someone who’s been married for thirty years and feels a little restless, but doesn’t want to leave his wife? Or maybe I’m talking to a woman who’s exploring her sexuality. I snort. Most likely, I’m engaging with a teen boy who’s giggling in his room even now.

  Then again, maybe PeterC is a real, adult male. Maybe some of the guys who visit these cam shows do so because they are afraid to approach women in person for fear of rejection. Maybe it’s just because I can relate to feeling awkward in situations with the opposite sex sometimes. It gives me boost to think I might be giving a shy person some confidence.

  I go to bed with a new sense of purpose and contentment, positive that PeterC was bullied in high school and now has crushing social anxiety. Well, he’s not the only one. I know exactly how that goes, and fall asleep feeling like I have a new mission in life.

  It’s 8:50 p.m. the next day and I feel a little more comfortable about doing this live show than I did yesterday. I know where to put my computer for the perfect angle, and I spent the day making a sexy playlist to keep on in the background. My main fear is that no one will show up. PeterC gave me $55 yesterday, so I doubt he’ll be back today with that kind of money. Unless maybe he’s a tech nerd that created some silly gaming app that everyone loves. Then, anything is possible.

  I struggle a little with what to wear today. I’ve realized that most of my clothes are only fit to wear under an apron at the bakery because they’re so raggedy and baggy at once. So I pull out the big guns.

  I decide on a pair of shiny black pants that I bought for a night out with girlfriends that never happened. It’s hard staying out past nine o’clock when you have to be at the bakery by four a.m. I have a pair of super cute black stilettos that I don’t wear because they hurt my feet after standing in them for thirty minutes but hey, I bet they’ll be just fine to wear sitting on my bed. I put on a flowing purple top with an empire waist and pretty silver buttons. It’s a little bit sheer but I’ve got a purple bra that matches perfectly.

  I light candles to complete my sexy mood and then go live. To my surprise and amazement, PeterC is already logged in and waiting.

  “Hi Pete! I’m so glad to see you back today.”

  “Hi Whitney, your smile brightened my mood yesterday. I wanted to see if it was a one-time phenomenon or if you could do it again,” the message from Pete reads.

  “My mom always called me her sunshine. I guess that’s why I was able to brighten your day.”

  “Tell me about your family,” PeterC requests and sends me $50.

  The cash makes my heart start racing again, but I force myself to slow down. Money isn’t everything, and I weigh what I’m willing to reveal to this strange man. I need to be careful, but then again, I don’t see how describing my parents in a general fashion could hurt.

  “My mom and dad were older when they had me so they’re in their late fifties. Just to be clear, they’re not Michelle Pfeiffer and John Stamos fifties, they are Santa and Mrs. Claus fifties.”

  PeterC sends me lols and I continue.

  “My parents are kind and selfless and they worry about me too much. They paid for my tuition, which wasn’t cheap and they worry that I work to0 hard.”

  Peter types.

  “You said you worked in food service. What do you do in the food service industry?”

  More personal questions from PeterC; he’s the only one on my show so I roll the dice and give him a bit more information.

  “I’m a pastry chef. I studied at Le Cordon Bleu, and got to spend one semester in Paris. I worked in several five star restaurants in New Jersey and New York, but I really wanted to be able to just bake. It was interesting doing all the fancy three bite desserts at those places, but I really just wanted to make down-home everyday treats. So, I opened my own little bakery in New York City. I love making
cupcakes, cinnamon rolls, and cookies.”

  “Wow, Whitney, that’s impressive,” Peter types. “I’m guessing your bakery is relatively new and my guess is that you haven’t had time to build up a huge savings to ride out crazy, apocalyptic viruses?”

  I smile wryly.

  “I’ve been open a little over a year. I was getting some really good restaurant customers, so I invested the savings I had on equipment to make my bakery more productive and efficient.”

  I feel sad and defeated again and I think it shows on my face because Pete tells me he didn’t mean to upset me. I smile again.

  “You didn’t upset me. I’m just afraid I’m going to lose my business because of this virus. I can always go back to being a pastry chef in someone else’s shop, but I have employees to think about. Peoples’ livelihoods are my responsibility, and it’s not just that either. My parents sacrificed so much for me, and I want to be able to take care of them now that they’re older.”

  I see three dots appear on screen, and then Peter’s message comes through.

  “Chin up, Whitney. You are obviously creative and determined to succeed. Something tells me you’re going to be fine. I hope to see you again soon.”

  PeterC signs off and another $100 appears in my account. I immediately transfer the money to my parents.

  5

  Whitney

  I call my mom the next morning to make sure she got the money I sent her. We video chat because I miss seeing her face, and also because need to get more comfortable in front of the camera.

  “Hi Mom. Did you get the money I sent?”

  Maeve’s face lights up.

  “Yes, Whitney. We appreciate it so much, but you shouldn’t have done that. How are you going to pay your bills?”

  I hate lying to her but I can’t tell her the truth. Even though my cam shows are very tame, Maeve Porter is very old fashioned. She was a virgin when she married my dad. Sex was never something we discussed in my house, other than to say that it was something private done between a married couple who love each other very much.

  “Take out is doing pretty well,” I lie easily, “and I had some restaurants who still owed me money and they paid their invoices.”

  Suddenly, my mom looks concerned.

  “Are you working too hard, Sunshine?”

  “No, Mom. We have limited hours. Look, I’m at home right now,” I pan the camera around my apartment so she can see.

  “Oh look, there’s Apollo. Bring him over here so I can see him.”

  I smile and snatch up the big, black ball of fur. I put the cat in front of the camera and he actually meows at my mother. He’s a very vocal cat. He meows if he likes someone and hisses if he doesn’t. He hissed at my last boyfriend every time he came over.

  Then, my mom says she has to go check on my dad. Donald got another one of his migraines today and is sleeping in the bedroom with the curtains drawn tight. She said she has to hang a blanket on top of the curtains because even the tiniest bit of light that comes in around the panels makes his head hurt worse. I wish I had the money to buy him some black-out drapes.

  “Give Dad my love,” I murmur before logging off with a sad smile.

  I check my email expecting only junk and ads for things I can’t afford, when I notice I have a message from LiveFans. I’m wondering if it’s going to tell me PeterC didn’t mean to tip me $100 and wants his money back. Instead, to my shock, I find that PeterC has requested a private show at 7:00 tonight.

  I didn’t realize LiveFans had such a thing as a private show and I go to their webpage to see what that means. It says that I can do a private show for up to three people where they can log in with their camera live also.

  Holy shit, it sounds like I would see PeterC in person. Do I want to be able to interact with him this way? I’m not entirely sure I do. I have an image of him in my mind, and it’s of a kindly, middle-aged man with creases around his nose and mouth. But what if I’m wrong? What if Pete is some old guy that looks like my dad? What if he’s some pervert who’s going to aim the camera at his genitals? I’m torn. If I say no, PeterC will just find another cam girl who will do the private show. If I say yes, I could be emotionally scarred for life.

  But I have to say yes, because I can’t afford to lose my only viewer. I grimace and send PeterC a message through LiveFans that says I am looking forward to our private show tonight.

  Then, I turn back to my apartment. It’s only 10:00 a.m., so I need to find something to do to distract myself so I don’t obsess and change my mind before our appointment. I clean my entire apartment in about an hour, and then walk out for another soggy bag lunch. By noon I’m looking for another distraction. I decide to revisit the idea of doing a baking blog on my website. I go in and add a new page to my website. I’m not too tech savvy so it takes me a while, but I finally get it to the point where I like the look of it. I’ve written a little introductory post and then I notice it gives me the option of posting a video or “vlog” as they call it.

  Why not? I’m a cam girl. If I can do live shows on-line for men, then I can definitely do a baking video for my own web page. I quickly check what supplies I have in my kitchen. I’ve got everything I need to make snickerdoodle cookies. I use my phone for the video because I don’t have room in my tiny kitchen to bake cookies if there’s a laptop on the counter. It’s a little awkward because I have to prop my phone up against a cookbook, but it works out okay.

  This feels natural to me. I breeze through the lesson in no time at all, recording the whole thing and then I realize it’s after five. I need to start getting ready for my private show with Pete.

  I’ll never have time for my curls to dry if I wash them. What was I thinking? I tie a pretty scarf in my hair hoping Pete goes for the wild gypsy look. I decide that could be really sexy and I have a long colorful skirt that will fit right in with that style. I pull it all together with a top that laces up the front. I leave the lacing loose to show off some cleavage. Overall, I’m pretty impressed with my style choices.

  I set the mood like I did the night before: candles and music and fluffy pillows. I add a plate of the fresh baked cookies to my nightstand. I told PeterC I was a baker, and for some reason I think it is important that he believe me.

  It’s 6:55 and I decide to log in. I want to be ready when Peter joins the show. Three minutes later I get a message that PeterC is entering the virtual room where our interaction will take place. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for any one of the infinite possibilities that may pop up on my screen, when suddenly, Apollo hops into my lap. Oh no! My sexy gypsy girl look has just turned into witch-getting-ready-to-cast-a-spell look.

  “No Apollo, down, down!” I shriek in a panic. “Oh my god!”

  My cat turns to shoot me a disdainful look over his shoulder and meows. I’m still trying to push him off my lap when a deep voice interrupts.

  “Who’s your friend?”

  Oh shit. I finally manage to shove Apollo off, and he hisses at me before stalking away. Then I push my hair back and smile at the computer, trying to look composed. But it’s hopeless because my jaw drops when I see PeterC. Is this the man I’ve been communicating with?

  My cheeks flush and all oxygen leaves my lungs because the man on the screen is gorgeous. I’m utterly stunned. This is no nerdy IT guy with a pocket protector and thinning hair. The man before me has waves of jet black locks and ocean blue eyes. Not only that, but his eyes are twinkling at me now, as I try to find words that just aren’t coming.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he asks, chuckling at his own joke.

  His laugh is melodic, and a deep baritone. I snap out of my stupor.

  “This is Apollo,” I say ruefully, grabbing my cat and holding him up so he’s in full view of the camera. I feel silly introducing the purring feline, but at the same time, I feel lucky too. Apollo’s antics have led me to PeterC, and this man is beyond my wildest dreams. Meanwhile, Peter grins at Apollo and then laughs.

  “No w
ay! Hold on,” he says before disappearing from the screen. His camera is still on and I check out the view of the room he is in. It appears to be a home office of some sort. It’s roomy, so maybe some place suburban. There are a few books on a shelf, too far away for me to read the titles. His desk chair looks like it’s soft, expensive leather. I wonder what city PeterC is in. He could be anywhere in the country, or even the world, come to think of it.

  Pete comes back into view carrying an adorable black cat that looks a lot like Apollo, but smaller.

  “This is Demeter, or Demi for short,” he says introducing his pet.

  This private show has taken such a strange turn but it’s making me feel at ease. Pete has a cat. He has to be normal, right?

  Pete winks at me, and my heart stutters a bit.

  “Isn’t it a weird coincidence that we both have black cats named after ancient Greek deities?” he asks.

  I giggle.

  “It certainly is. I named Apollo after the sun god because I’ve always been fascinated with Greek mythology and my mom has always called me Sunshine. How did Demi get her name?”

  He shoots me a wry smile.

  “As I’m sure you know Demeter is the Greek goddess of the harvest, which is good luck in my business because actually, we have another thing in common. I work in food service too. But Demi came into my life when things started to go really well in my business, so I give her credit for my harvest.”

  “I love that story. Are you also out of work because of coronavirus restrictions?”

  He shakes his head and I marvel at the perfection of his bone structure. He has a high, proud brow; a strong nose; and a square chin with just a tiny cleft in it. Inside, I’m drooling.

  “No,” he smiles. “My restaurants have always done a significant amount of carry out, so we’re okay, at least for now. We’re an established name with a wide consumer base, so things are holding steady.”

  It hasn’t escaped me that he used the word ‘locations’, as in more than one location. How many does he have? But Peter doesn’t tell me the name of his restaurants and I don’t push because it seems like it would be rude. He is the customer after all, and I shouldn’t forget my place. Instead, I smile.