by S. E. Law
She reappears, flushed and beautiful, her curves heaving. Her breasts are a gorgeous milky white with pink crests, and they sway as she giggles again.
“Pete! Have another glass of wine with me! We can be alone together.”
“I’m all out of wine,” I say regretfully. “Maybe we can continue this conversation tomorrow night at the same time?”
She stares into the camera, and I can tell from her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils that she’s definitely had too much.
“Are you leaving me, Pete? Why do they always leave me?” she trails off.
“Whitney, I’m not leaving you. You are incredibly beautiful and sexy and I wish I could be there to make love to you, but I think you need to get some sleep.”
She winks at me.
“Maybe. But I want you to know that I was very restless last night thinking about this hot guy I had a private show with yesterday. I didn’t get much sleep. Oh wait, you’re the hot guy. Did you just say you want to make love to me?”
I laugh, even if the sound comes out a bit hoarse. At the moment, I’m as hard as a rock, but that isn’t what she needs from me right now.
“I did and I do. But tonight, I’ll have to visit you in your dreams. Good night, honey. Sweet dreams and sleep tight, okay?”
“G’night, Pete,” she says in a slightly slurred voice before turning off the camera.
Faced with a dark screen, I scrub my hands over my face. My body’s stiff, and a cold shower is much needed. But even worse, I didn’t succeed in getting this girl out of my head at all. In fact, Whitney’s now embedded even deeper, with her playful ways and gorgeous body. Fuck. What do I do?
7
Whitney
I’ve talked to Peter every day since I first logged on as a cam girl, and he’s tipped me over eight thousand dollars total now. My bills are all caught up and I’ve even been sending money to my parents and my employees.
My phone rings and it’s Maeve. She wants to video chat but I don’t think I can face her, so I turn my camera off.
“Whitney, why can’t I see you?”
“My camera is off, Mom. I just got out of the shower.”
It’s just a little white lie but I hate it.
“Oh, ok. Whitney, we got your last money transfer, and it’s much appreciated. But where did this money come from? Is it your store?”
Oh no, what do I say? Fortunately, I have an answer prepared.
“Take out is doing really well, Mom. I was surprised, but customers have flocked to my store. So much in fact, that maybe I should just re-think SugarTime as a take-out only place. Or maybe it’s just because so many places are closed. But I also started a vlog on my website, and I post videos of my baking and provide recipes, so that’s been helping the business too.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, sweetheart! You’re so entrepreneurial and I knew you’d make it work somehow. But why am I just hearing about this now?” Maeve interrogates me.
“Because I know how you hate to use the computer,” I say wryly. “I figured I’d show you the next time I came over.”
My mom chuckles.
“I’m old, Whitney. You know old people don’t like to use computers.”
“Mom, you aren’t that old. Most people your age use computers daily.”
Maeve merely sighs.
“I spent most of my life as a seamstress, and there was no place for computers in that line of work. If my arthritis wasn’t so bad, I’d still be sewing.”
I cluck sympathetically.
“I know you would, Mom. You made me beautiful dresses growing up. I got so many compliments on the clothes you made me when I lived in Paris for that semester, and you know that the French really appreciate quality fashion.”
But my mom just sighs again.
“I only wish I could get the right medicine for my hands. You know, I want to be the one to sew your wedding dress someday. Wouldn’t that be nice? It would be a gift from the heart, mother to daughter.”
This makes me sad for both of us, and we’re silent for a moment. I’m sure Maeve would have made a gorgeous gown.
“How’s Dad doing?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“He hasn’t had a headache since the last time I talked to you. I think those blackout drapes that you sent us are really helping. I feel like I sleep in a cave, but I can always go outside and putt around in the garden. Thank you so much, sweetheart. You’re the best daughter, and I don’t know what Donald and I would do without you.”
“Of course, Mom. You know I love you guys.”
My mom makes a kissing sound over the phone.
“I love you too. I’m going to let you go now, Sunshine. Don’t work too hard.”
“I won’t, Mom. Hugs and kisses to Dad.”
My mom mentioning a wedding gown reminds me of the other night with Peter. I was drunk. I had two glasses of wine before he logged on, and it was fine at first. Then, the alcohol hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was embarrassed and told Pete later that I didn’t remember what happened after I took the picnic basket off the bed. But the truth is that I remember everything. I remember unfastening all those buttons so that he saw me in nothing but my girdle and tiny lace panties. I remember the way his blue eyes flared as he took in my enormous, pink-tipped breasts. I remember him telling me he wanted to make love to me, and it thrilled me to my core.
Could I make love to a man like that? He’s handsome, kind, and very, very rich. He only ever compliments me, and makes me feel good about myself, both business-wise, and about my body. I think the answer is clear: I’d love to make love to him in real life.
Plus, our video chats have become naughty. Lately, I’ve been completely nude except for my panties by the end of every session. Peter’s always very complimentary. He tells me he thinks my curves are incredibly sexy, and I get a kick out of it when he uses food metaphors for parts of my body. He thinks my deep brown eyes look like rich pools of chocolate sauce and my skin is like creamy peach ice cream. He uses lots of ice cream references.
I even did one session in a bubble bath. It was hard making that tiny bathroom sexy, but I ordered tons of candles on Amazon Prime and got a giant bath pillow to hide the cracked tile. Peter said he loved it. He told me he has a bath tub with spa jets waiting to ease my muscles whenever we move in that direction. It sounds divine, but am I really ready? That would mean meeting in real life.
We have another call scheduled for tonight. I’m trying to keep it interesting so I ordered some fun things online. Peter is paying me, but at the same time, I enjoy his company. I want each call to be special, and I feel justified investing some of the money he gives me into pleasing him.
Plus, we’re both in the food service industry, so I’ve decided to do a little homage to the days of carhops. I ordered some roller skates and a very short waitress uniform. My hair is pulled up in a pony tail, and tied with a flirty scarf. I’ve rearranged my whole apartment for this so I can have a little bit of room to skate. Roller skating was one of my favorite pastimes as a kid so I’m pretty good at it. Peter and I haven’t done any sort of role-playing but I thought it might be fun. To be honest, I’m finding myself more and more comfortable with my sexuality around him.
A ping sounds from my computer, which tells me that Peter’s logged on. I’m standing in the middle of my kitchen holding a tray, one knee bent and a hand on my hip. I hold my breath, hoping he gets a kick out of it.
His handsome face pops up on my screen and a huge grin immediately springs to life. I do a little spin on my skates, smile coyly and lean forward so my cleavage is in full view.
“Sir, welcome to Whitney’s Burger Barn. Can I take your order?”
He laughs, amused.
“Are you really wearing roller skates in a New York City apartment? You are crazy!”
His smile stretches from ear to ear so I know he likes it, but I tease him anyway.
“Don’t you like it?”
“More than you c
an possibly imagine,” he growls.
“Good! Would you like to be my customer or my boss?”
“Oh, I get a choice. Hmm, I get to be the boss all day. I’d love to have you wait on me. Are you on the menu, sweetheart?”
I giggle.
“Only for special customers like you. And you have to order me a la carte. What would you like first?”
“I want your panties.”
That makes me laugh.
“I’d have to take my skates off for that,” I tell him. “Are you sure you want to move that fast? We just started.” Also, my panties are the only thing I haven’t taken off for him, and I’m a little hesitant.
He nods his head, blue eyes gleaming.
“I’m sure, little one. And you can keep your uniform on. Trust me, the customer is always right.”
I play along like he’s an unreasonable customer.
“Sir, panties do not come off over roller skates. I don’t know what dirty movies you’ve been watching—”
“Cut them off. I’ll buy you ten new pairs to replace them. Like I said, leave the uniform on. It’s sexy to think of you wearing it with nothing underneath.”
I pretend to think for a moment, and then say saucily, “Take your shirt off and we have a deal.”
“Done,” he agrees and without hesitation, his black t-shirt comes off over his head. His chest looks like it’s sculpted out of stone. His shoulders are broad and strong, and he’s got defined, six pack abs. I know my face is flushing so I turn quickly to grab the scissors from a kitchen drawer. Then, I discreetly reach under my skirt and cut off my panties. I make a snip at each hip and bingo, they’re on the floor. My back is to him so I don’t see his reaction, although I know he can see the cloth drop.
I purposely spin around quickly so he can get proof that I have nothing under my skirt.
“Would you like to order anything else, sir?”
“Yes. I don’t want you take off the uniform but I want you to unbutton the top all the way to your waist so I can see those breasts I love so much.”
I do as requested. I’m deeply aroused. I expected this to be more fun than erotic, but I was wrong.
“Anything else in your order?” I ask breathlessly now, my girls visible for him to see. They’re large and the pink crests are already hard with need.
“Yes. I want you to bring me those panties I asked for. I want you to bend at the waist and pick them up so I can see exactly what I’ve been missing.”
I giggle, but my heart’s racing and I want to do it. Slowly, I bend over, exposing everything. I feel so naughty, but so sexy and empowered too. I hear him gasp.
Skating back to him, I drop the panties in front of my laptop like I’m dropping them in his lap.
“Would you care for dessert, sir? It’s our specialty.”
“What could possibly be on the menu that’s better than what I’ve already ordered?” he asks, those blue eyes gleaming.
“This,” I say, slowly unbuttoning my dress the rest of the way. The uniform is a one-piece and it slips off my shoulders, pooling at my feet. I’m completely nude now, save for a pair of roller-skates and colorful knee-high socks.
The expression on his handsome face is strained as he takes me in. My pussy lips are wet already, and they glisten under the low lights.
“Jesus, Whitney. I don’t know how to keep going like this without seeing you in person. I need you sweetheart.”
Then, there’s a tell-tale dinging noise and my eyes skate over to the counter on the computer screen. Peter just added two thousand dollars to my account! But it’s not just about money. He meets my eyes, those blue eyes dark with desire.
“I can tell this is more than just a job for you. I can see that you’re just as turned on as I am. Your body doesn’t lie, sweetheart.”
I blush, palming my breasts with my hands.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Pete. Who wouldn’t be turned on by attention from a guy like you? I feel like I should be ashamed of the thoughts I’ve had about you over the last week, but I’m not. I can’t believe that I’m standing here completely naked talking to you like this and yet, it feels good. I like it.”
His eyes flare.
“You’ll be perfectly safe if we meet in person. I promise. You can give my address to a friend so someone will know where you are. And it’s not just the physical attraction, sweetheart. You make me laugh and you’re smart. The gods Apollo and Demeter have destined us to meet.”
I giggle a bit while shimmying my hips seductively.
“I’ll consult Apollo on his motivation for bringing us together.”
“Fair enough. I have to go now. I don’t want to be the pervert that releases his sexual tension in front of you, unless you’re into that…?”
My face flushes as I realize what he means.
“Pete, you’ve made me discover all sorts of new things I’m interested in, but let’s leave something for next time.”
Waving goodbye, I click off the camera and grab my robe. As I’m unlacing my skates, my LiveFans account pings. Oh my god, PeterC has sent me five thousand dollars and a note. My eyes scan the words eagerly.
I hope you’ll consider meeting me in person, Whitney. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.
I blink, stunned by the amount of money that I just made for a one-hour private show. Then, I take a cold shower because if I think more about what’s happening, I’ll ask him to come over right now.
I decide I need some objective advice on this because I’m so clouded with lust I can’t see straight. I FaceTime with Alvina. I haven’t talked to her in almost a week and I miss her sassy advice.
“Hey lovely!” she answers the call, curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.
“Hey Alvina, am I interrupting a Netflix and chill night with Derek?”
She makes a face.
“No. He got mad about me flirting with 1984 Kevin Bacon. And because drunk-ass Steven told him I knew he wasn’t messing around with that girl, and I was just making him suffer for a little while. What a lousy big brother.”
“Nothing good ever comes out of cheap draft beer.”
She sighs.
“I don’t know what to do. Do you think I should call him?” Alvina kicks off. “I mean, this is so messed-up, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I definitely think you should call him. And apologize. You really liked him and then got stupid jealous because you liked him so much. I love you, girl, but you messed up this one. I’m calling you out because you asked.”
She sighs again, leaning back comfortably with her big bowl of popcorn.
“I know you’re right. I’ve spent a week exploring the dark recesses of Netflix and stuffing my face with Oreos. Did you know there are eleven different documentaries on hairless cats? And what kind of self respecting baker’s assistant eats Oreos?”
I smile.
“Aww, you’re a baker too, not a baker’s assistant. You simply went to the Whitney Porter school of pastries and confections, that’s all.”
She brightens.
“I like that name. That’s what you should call your vlog!”
I blink.
“You saw my vlog?”
“Of course I did. I’m not sitting over here just watching The Evolution of Hairless Cats and Hairless Cats in Hollywood.”
I giggle.
“Did you watch all the documentaries on hairless cats on Netflix?”
She pulls a face.
“No, just those two. I’m an expert now,” Alvina jokes putting her nose in the air like some sort of academic snob.
“You really need to call Derek before you lose your mind,” I laugh.
“I know. I just needed you to knock some sense into me.”
“Happy to do so, but I need some advice too. And save your judgment because I’m already beating myself up about this. I just don’t know what else to do.”
She straightens, putting her popcorn to the side.
“Ok,
this sounds serious. You know you’re my best friend and I’d never judge you. Let’s have it.”
I go on to explain about the cam girl show and Peter. I tell her how hot he is and how comfortable he makes me feel in my own skin. Of course, I leave out the particularly naughty parts because that would be too embarrassing.
But Alvina takes it all in a stride. She’s silent for a moment, thinking, but then she speaks.
“So what do you need advice about? There doesn’t seem to be any harm in talking to some guy online. He’s probably out in California or something. And if you are getting enough money to help you get by during this crisis, who cares?”
I gulp. The dirty details are coming.
“So, that’s not all of it. Peter lives here in New York and he’s given me almost fifteen thousand dollars in the past week alone. And now, he wants me to meet him in person.”
“Wow. That is serious,” Alvina is suddenly more somber than I’ve ever seen her the entire time I’ve known her.
The silence stretches for too long. I think maybe she is judging me after all. I feel like I might cry.
“So, the money you’ve been sending everyone isn’t from the GoFundMe page you set up for SugarTime? You’re not doing gangbusters with delivery, are you? The money is from this Peter dude?”
A tear rolls down my cheek.
“Pretty much, yes. The GoFundMe page got us some donations, but not very much. The delivery business is okay, but no one has extra money for things like dessert. So yes, most of the money is from Peter. But he knows I’m trying to keep my bakery from going under and he knows I’m sending money to my family and employees. He’s in our industry, and he understands.”
Alvina shoots me a long look.
“You told him about SugarTime?”
“Only that I own a bakery, not the name of it.”
She takes another deep breath.
“What’s your intuition on this guy Whitney? I can’t really tell you what to do.”
I pause as well, thinking.
“I really like him. I like who I am when I talk to him. I can be crazy or silly or serious. I can talk about the business and he understands. And I have never felt so sexually free before. An hour ago, I was standing in front of him in nothing but a pair roller skates and I felt like a goddess on wheels.”