by Isa Mazzei
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: Second week in a row as my knight! You’re on a roll.
Using an euphemism for a highest tipper allowed camgirls to transform tips into something special too: a nickname, a privilege, Una’s “knight.” I primed myself with two gulps of coffee, then messaged Odin that I was ready. Odin wanted me to watch his webcam too, and I wasn’t surprised to see a middle-aged, bald man sitting in an office chair.
“Oh, this is fun!” I giggled.
“Yeah, privates are nice. Now we can chat without anyone disturbing us.”
“So what do you want to chat about?” I rolled over coyly, noting a chair propped under the door knob behind Odin, blocking it closed.
I leaned forward a bit, trying to figure out why he had it there. Odin noticed my eyes.
“It’s so we don’t get disturbed. Door doesn’t have a lock.”
I smiled obligingly. He had told me he wasn’t married.
Then again, I had told him my name was Una.
I asked him questions about himself, trying to find a way to hook in. It took me a few moments to notice his hand, below frame, moving slowly up and down. I pretended not to notice, but began to touch myself too, my hand reaching just out of frame. I was intrigued by the new game.
“Well, I’m a database engineer now,” he was explaining. “But the military is my life.”
“Why aren’t you in the military anymore?” I let a gasp escape my lips, and his hand began moving faster.
“Discharged. Got some PTSD issues.” He grunted, leaning forward. I mirrored his movements.
“Oh, that’s too bad. Do you like your new job?” I felt like I should say something sexy, but he was clearly digging the small talk.
“Yeah…” Faster. “Boss sucks, though.” Faster.
He grunted again and came.
I thought of something to say. “You’re so hot, Odin. When you come.”
He nodded and leaned back in the chair. “Did you come?”
“Not this time,” I looked into the camera. “But that’s okay. It still felt good.”
I searched his face. Wounded pride. Good. He would be back for another private soon.
Alex was another key member of my cam room. Even though I told him I couldn’t be his sugar baby anymore, he watched every show under the username KnightMan_77. I was happy to have him as a viewer. In fact, I reveled in the subtle games he played with the other men. He decided to take up a spot in my room as my other biggest tipper, and he got a total kick out of manipulating OdinWarrior into giving me more and more money.
“Sucker,” he laughed one day while we were at brunch. “I get to sit here at brunch with the famous Una, and he has no idea!”
He played a game with Odin where he would one-up every tip Odin gave me by 1 token. Since I kept the “biggest tip” in my room topic, this would drive Odin crazy. It was fun at first, but every show Alex would push it further until Odin threatened to leave my room—a threat I had to smooth over in private chat after my show.
Private Message from OdinWarrior: that guy’s a fucking asshole
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: I know, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.
Private Message from OdinWarrior: He makes me want to stop tipping
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: I’m sorry. I need the money otherwise I’d tell him to fuck off. You know you’re my favorite right?
Private Message from OdinWarrior: :) yeah, I know. I’d never leave you, Una. I was just angry
Another important member of my cam room was Demon9, the viewer who had helped me out so much during my first show. It became apparent very quickly that he fancied himself different from the other men on the site. He employed full sentences with proper grammar and reminded me regularly that he enjoyed my chat room because I was so clearly intelligent.
Private Message from Demon9: I like the educated girls. It’s hard to even hold a conversation with some of the women on here.
Private Message from Demon9: I am surprised someone of your intellect has chosen this line of work.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: I’m surprised someone of your intellect frequents a cam site ;)
Demon liked it when I typed proper sentences, preferably utilizing Oxford commas and semicolons. He had a master’s degree and had attended divinity school. He called himself “demon” as a subtle nod to the fact that he was a regular on a porn site. Of the two of us, however, I was the one going to hell.
Private Message from Demon9: It’s just that I’ve had communion. I confess. I can absolve my sins.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: But we’re both committing the same sin, right?
Private Message from Demon9: I mean, I never touch myself to you, or any girl on here.
Demon9 may have had ambiguous religious beliefs, but he quickly became one of my closest friends on the site. He was a long-timer, and he knew how everything worked. He offered to be my room helper, which meant that he would be given the power to ban users when they got out of hand. He was in charge of protecting me. He’d block them almost as soon as they had posted something mean. When I did a cumshow, my room count would swell, easily tripling, quadrupling in number. The sudden influx of strangers meant a sudden influx of insults or just invasive comments. There was something immensely difficult about masturbating and getting called ugly at the same time.
Daddyo: you’re such a tease, y are you facing away from the camera
Daddyo: show us urself
Demon9: Tip her if you want to see, Daddyo
Daddyo: fuck that
Daddyo: shes an ugly bitch anyway
The trolls rarely engaged me directly. It was as if they enjoyed watching my regulars defend me. I read the messages and tried not let my face betray that I was upset.
“Demon…” I prompted.
Demon9: It’s a privilege to witness Una. A privilege you no longer have
“Byeeeeee.” I waved at the camera as Demon9 hit the “ban for life” button, blocking Daddyo’s IP from accessing my stream ever again. Demon9 sent a bowing emoji to the room.
Demon9 was already close friends with another regular viewer named Wild_West. Demon had met him in another girl’s chat room. The girl had since retired, and as soon as Demon9 found me, he sent a message to Wild_West letting him know there was another girl he might like online.
Wild_West frequently altered his username, from Wild_West to WanderOn, and then back to Wild_West. A viewer could alter their username as frequently as they wanted, but it was usually easy to tell who they were because their profile would remain the same. They generally used avatars—like cartoon figures, emojis, or animals as their profile pictures—and selected a signature font and font color. Viewers often changed their usernames as jokes, and mine would often switch theirs to things like “TheOtherUna” or “UnasFavorite” to mess with each other.
“What’s up with your username, Wild?” I asked one day, while the group was just hanging out.
WanderOn: what do you mean?
“Sometimes you’re in here as Wild_West, sometimes as WanderOn.”
WanderOn: Oh.
A private message popped up on my screen.
Private Message from WanderOn: Wild_West is a reference to another camgirl, Westen. My username used to be kind of a joke when I was more of a regular in her room. She called me her “Wild” like, Wildcard
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: Oh! I get it.
Private Message from WanderOn: I know it upsets a lot of girls when I go in their rooms with West’s name. But sometimes I come in here after I watch her and I forget to switch
“Oh, well you can come in here with whatever name you want, Wild,” I answered out loud, so the rest of the room could hear. “You’re Wild in my mind already anyway. Don’t worry, I don’t get jealous of other girls.�
�� I smiled at my camera. Wild_West sent back an emoji tipping a top hat.
Wild_West was extremely private, and it took several months before I learned anything about him. He owned a ranch in Montana, had been a captain in the army, and gave off the distinct impression that if he looked an elk in the eye it would just give up on living and accept its fate as dinner.
There were other regulars too, and, as the weeks wore on, they began to form friendships, even going to far as to buy gifts for each other. OdinWarrior would tip fifty tokens.
OdinWarrior: pick a song, sb.
Secret_bee was quiet, and usually tipped anonymously. He would post a large THANK YOU and tell me to put on whatever song I wanted.
“The whole point of the tip is for you to pick a song, silly,” I’d tease, “but all right. I’ll put on Phil Collins because you said you liked him last week.”
Secret_bee would send a dancing ninja emoji. He was a gentle man who sold salvaged treasures at craft fairs and would often mail me antique jewelry and beads he had found. He told me once that he was a post-suicide crisis counselor.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: What does that mean? Post-suicide?
Private Message from secret_bee: That means, oh wow. Well.
Private Message from secret_bee: When someone kills themselves and they send the cops to the scene they also send me. So I can crisis counsel the family while the coroner and cops do their stuff
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: …
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: That sounds so intense, jesus.
Private Message from secret_bee: It’s hard to not bring it home sometimes.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: I have a lot of attempted suicide in my family. So I get that. Totally. Please let me know when you’re having a rough day, so I can try to cheer you up!
Private Message from secret_bee: You’re so sweet Una
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: You’re clearly a good man, doing a job like that. What made you choose that kind of work?
Keeping the men from my cam room hooked was an art, one I had unknowingly practiced since my high school days. I was clingy and complimentary to Odin, distant and cool with Wild_West, sweet and gentle with secret_bee, snarky and smart with Demon9. The online format helped me too. They all existed in their own little bubble. They rarely, if ever, met in real life, and private messaging meant I could tell each one he was special without revealing to the others who I was talking to. As long as I didn’t declare any absolutes, I could subtly morph myself into every tipper’s dream girl.
I spent my days sleeping, my nights camming, and the hours before dawn in the bathtub eating Domino’s pizza and FaceTiming with Demon9, plotting the next night’s activities. Alex had thought it would be a good idea to get me a separate “cam phone,” complete with a Wyoming area code, so I could sell the number or give it out to guys who were special. Demon9 got my number at the end of my first week, when I messaged him that I wanted to increase my viewership during Saturday’s show. Saturdays were the hardest days to cam: the most money could be made because viewers had just been paid and didn’t have to work the next day, but Saturdays were also the nights when the most girls worked, even those who just cammed casually. More competition. Demon and I private messaged at the end of my shift.
Private Message from Demon9: I’ve been on this site for years. I know a lot about the guys on here, and the kinds of girls they like.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: Care to share?
Private Message from Demon9: Of course!
I sent him my number and he texted me a few seconds later. I glanced at the bath I was running, then hit “FaceTime.” Demon’s face appeared on the screen. He was in his thirties, with a ginger beard and perfectly straight teeth. I propped up the phone against the back of my toilet, almost knocking it in.
“Well, well, well, the famous Una all to myself!”
I nodded and slid ungracefully into the bath. The coffee from that night was wearing off, and an ugly headache was forcing its way into my sinuses.
“I can’t text and bathe,” I explained. “Okay, these guys. Shoot.”
He shared with me the best girls he had seen, the best shows, the highest tippers. Jiggy69 was a whale, liked shy girls, didn’t like cumshows. Dipped in and out of the top girls’ rooms, dropped huge tips, and left. HugoTheMan liked rock. If I played Pink Floyd he’d probably stop by. MellowGee had a thing for feet—maybe wear heels one night for him, subtly. He was a big tipper, too.
After that FaceTime, Demon9 was securely mine, and with his help, we became an unstoppable team. I kept a bottle of lube next to my bed, a gallon of cold brew in my fridge, and Domino’s knew my standing order. I woke up every afternoon with a headache and chased it away with a venti Americano at 6:00 p.m.
At the end of my first month, I was ranked #69 on the site. I called Alex.
“I’m number sixty-nine, Alex.”
“You’re what?”
“I finished the month at SIXTY-FUCKING-NINE, ALEX!”
“Nice!”
“Can you believe it. I can’t believe it.”
Alex chuckled. “That’s pretty insane. Listen—”
“I’m literally the best camgirl. No one is this high their first month.”
“So you’re sixty-nine now, for how long?”
“It resets every month. It’s a monthly thing.”
“So next month you’ll start over?”
“Yeah, but I mean, I hit sixty-nine my first month. I’m gonna have to beat that.”
I dreamed of hitting fifty, twenty-five. Ten. One.
“Listen…I’m going to have to start tipping a little less,” Alex said haltingly.
“What? Why?”
“Belle, I gave you more this month than I did even when we were dating.”
“Yeah, okay, well. That doesn’t matter. I’m almost famous. I’ll find more tippers.”
“I’m still going to watch. And tip. I just don’t want you to have your expectations set too high.”
“Alex, I feel like you’re missing the point here. I’m number sixty-nine. I’m basically the best camgirl in the entire world already.”
Alex sighed. “Okay, well do you want to go celebrate? Late-night tater tots?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come pick you up.”
I sat back down at my computer and checked my email. MyFreeCams notified me that my first paycheck had been deposited into my bank account. I pulled up the deposit receipt.
It was $15,877.10.
Can’t Be Tamed
Several weeks later, I was three hours into my show. I was reading palms, a talent which I didn’t have but feigned effectively with the aid of “HOW_TO_READ_PALMS.PDF” opened in a window next to my cam show.
“So this is your heart line, Wild…” I held an image of his hand up to my webcam so the room could see. He had emailed it to me a few minutes earlier along with the requisite twenty-dollar tip.
“And oh boy, it’s got these lines running off it. This can only mean…” I paused for dramatic effect.
“You’ll murder someone one day.” I shrugged. “Or maybe you already have?”
Wild_West sent a hat-tipping emoji. The room sent tips and shocked emojis.
“No, okay. Each line actually represents a love you’ve had in your life… Like a real, true love relationship.” I counted the lines and glanced at the PDF. “You’ve had five, Wild, you player!”
Demon9: Wild_West brings all the girls to the yard
Wild_West: Damnnnnn straight.
“So who’s next?” I called out, suppressing a shiver. I was down to just panties and thigh-high stockings. I thought about wrapping myself in one of my many fuzzy throw blankets, but then decided that might irritate the viewers that paid to see me this naked. On the plus side, being cold mea
nt my nipples looked great.
bombNo.20: Did you mention a seance? That’d be cool. I’ll tip for that.
“Are you serious, that’s way too creepy to do on my own,” I explained. “What if I get possessed?”
bombNo.20: We’d be right here to witness it
Demon9: Maybe my ecclesiastical training would be useful in an exorcism?
Glitchez22: Do you need a ouija board? I can order you one
I opened a new tab and went to my Amazon wishlist. I searched “ouija board” and threw the nicest one in the cart.
“There’s one on my wishlist!”
OdinWarrior: i’ll buy it for you Una
Alex had set up a PO box in Wyoming, my fictional home state. It forwarded to a PO box in Colorado, in Alex’s name. This was to protect my identity, since you needed an ID to have a PO box. I had also set up an Amazon wishlist, so my viewers could easily buy me gifts and get them sent directly to me, without me having to give away even my super-protected PO Box address.
MarioLuis: I just like watching u babe. U do U
bombNo.20: U do U OR
bombNo.20: u do other camgirls. Like, a variety show where you impersonate other girls.
“That’s an idea, Bomb.” A good idea. Camming would be easy if my viewers came up with all my show ideas for me. I added it to the list.
“Might piss some girls off though,” I mused.
By now, I had also developed an effective way to engage new viewers, and my group of regulars was steadily growing. I’d hook the new ones by shouting out to them and asking them questions, generally based off their usernames since I had nothing else to go on. RomeoTurtle entered my room.
“RomeoTurtle! Is that from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?”
RomeoTurtle: Yeah, u watch tmnt?
“No, I don’t, but I know that Snowman does, don’t you, Snow?” I replied, referring to a running list of notes I kept open on my desktop: Snowman had sent a TMNT GIF once. It seemed relevant. The site tracked viewers’ tips and messages. I tracked their birthdays and favorite TV shows.
snowman7: MICHELANGELO FOR LIFE