by Isa Mazzei
When we made it to Nederland, I parked in front of one of the main tourist attractions: a coffee shop inside the caboose of a decommissioned train car.
“Well, this is cute,” Demon noted, stepping out of the car and wiping his forehead. His hands twitched involuntarily.
“Yeah, it’s fun. I like it.” I led him up the ramp and onto the train. We stared at the menu. I waited for him to order but he didn’t. Finally, I stepped forward.
“A small Americano and a…” I turned to him.
“Oh nothing for me. If I have coffee now, I’ll never sleep.” He chuckled nervously. “Another perk of being old.”
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. “You have to get something, Demon. A tea? Decaf chai?”
“Peter, please,” he corrected me. “A tea, I suppose, sure.”
As he poured over the tea menu, I glanced at my phone. Only 2:30 p.m. I always did this. I always impulsively threw myself at some guy I had decided was my next boyfriend, only to discover I didn’t like him. I always did this. I always regretted it.
We stepped out into the parking lot with our drinks, and I saw the Carousel of Happiness next door. The Carousel of Happiness was a giant, indoor carousel, complete with hand-carved wooden animals and cheesy carnival music. I had never been on it before, even as a child, because it had always struck me as creepy.
“We should ride the Carousel of Happiness.”
“Oh?” Demon glanced in its direction: handwritten signs in garish colors called out to us.
“Yeah. It’s great. And only a dollar.”
I led him through the wooden double doors leading to the ticket desk.
“I think I’m all right. Spinny things never sit well with me.”
“Come on, Demon, let’s do it!”
“Peter. I’ll just sit here and watch.” He gestured to a bench near the edge of the carousel.
“Okay. Suit yourself.”
I bought three tickets and stood next to Demon. “Which animal should I ride?”
Demon was leaning back on the bench, a pensive look on his face. “I can just picture it now. Little Isa, riding around on the carousel.” He pronounced my name Ice-Uh again. “Did you come here a lot as a child?”
“Oh yeah. All the time,” I lied. “The dolphin was my favorite.” The carousel was empty except for us, as expected for a weekday morning. Sunlight streamed in from the windows. It was a chillingly lonely and abandoned atmosphere.
I climbed onto the carousel and took a seat on a gray dolphin with colored leis around its neck. The music started. The dolphin bobbed up and down as the carousel inched around the room. Demon watched me, his eyes never leaving the dolphin or its rider.
On the achingly slow car ride back, Demon placed his hand on the armrest between us. I kept both my hands on the wheel, eyes glued to the road. I dropped him off at his hotel and told him, regrettably, I would not be able to drive him to the airport the next morning because I had to take my mom to a last-minute appointment.
“The cabs are cheap and easy, though,” I offered kindly.
“Of course.”
“So I’ll say bye now then…” I moved to hug him. “In case I work super late tonight and you need to sleep or something.”
“Right. I can stay up, though. We can get food.”
“Sure thing…” I nodded, already trying to figure out how late I would have to cam to get out of it. I gave him an uncomfortable side-hug and jumped in the car.
When I got back to my apartment, I was completely drained from a day of forcing small talk. Of course, Demon wasn’t done talking to me.
Demon: what show are you doing tonight?
Demon: we could get food at that restaurant you were telling me about—Sunrise Diner?
Unfortunately, Demon knew my late-night snacking preferences. He also knew how late I stayed up. Okay, well, this wouldn’t be so bad. I could work for several hours and then go get a sandwich. At least eating meant we’d talk less.
That night we hit the countdown quickly and I was naked before I knew it. My room was hot, buzzing with new viewers and old friends. The night began with me quietly doing yoga, but quickly devolved into my room tipping me to come up with stranger and stranger poses.
One2Three: kangaroo giving birth.
bombNo.20: what makes you say kangaroo
One2Three: that is very clearly a kangaroo giving birth
Wild_West: xD
I squatted on my green yoga mat, naked, with my hands between my knees in a prayer position. “You guys, I’m pretty sure this is just an actual yoga pose.”
MarioLuis: yeah the snatch hatch
One2Three: It’s KANGAROO GIVING BIRTH MUST I REPEAT MYSELF?
RomeoTurtle: hatching the snatch
My back leg collapsed under me as tips and laughing emojis rolled in. “Okay, what’s this then?”
One2Three: pigeon with a broke-ass leg
One2Three: obviously
1NerdyGuy: Obviously.
I cheered. “We hit the count! Time for the cumshow!”
One2Three: that’s my cue then, bye folks
“Bye, One!”
I paused, still sitting twisted on my yoga mat. Demon had been fairly quiet throughout the show. So quiet, in fact, that I hadn’t thought about the fact that he was in town or watching. I thought about Demon, just a mile away, alone in his hotel room. I thought about him watching me touch myself. Maybe even touching himself too. It brought a weird sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Okay, guys, we hit the count, so we’re gonna have to pick a toy…” I held up the options. I liked letting the room pick the toy; it gave them a sense of control over my body.
1NerdyGuy: you haven’t used the purple one in a while have you Una?
secret_bee tipped 5 tokens: whichever you want!
Suddenly, a private message from Demon.
Private Message from Demon9: You should use the glass one
Private Message from Demon9: I saw it on your table when I was over
Private Message from Demon9: It’s so weird watching the show having been in your bed…
Private message from Demon9: maybe I’ll even play along…
It was so unlike Demon to be sexual. He usually insisted he didn’t even watch the cumshows except to ban users that got out of hand. I stared at his message. I wondered if he was sitting at the desk in his hotel room or on the bed. Or maybe the little chair by the window. I wondered if he was wearing pants. I felt sick.
“Hey, guys,” I began, biting my lip. “I’m actually not feeling great. I’ve been fighting a headache all day…”
SirDaddy: orgasm will do just the trick!
secret_bee: oh no, I’m so sorry.
Wild_West: put a cold compress on your eyes
Wild_West: always works for me
“Thanks, Wild. I know we hit the count, but I’m really fried, and I’m worried it’s gonna turn into a migraine. How about I do a free cumshow tomorrow, and sign off now? Would that be okay?”
1NerdyGuy: of course Una! Feel better!
MarioLuis: I mean, we did hit the count but w/e
Private Message from Demon9: you didn’t tell me you had a headache! What can I bring you?
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: get ready we’re going to the diner.
Private Message from Demon9: What? Don’t you have a headache?
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: No, just wanted more time with you. I’m starving be there in 5
“Goodnight, guys—talk soon!” I blew a kiss to the camera and closed my video stream. I lay back on my yoga mat. It felt sticky. I placed my right hand over my lower abdomen and my left hand over my heart. I tried to breathe the way I had learned in yoga class. In. Out. In. I willed myself the burst of energy I needed to go meet Demon. If I w
asn’t going to cam, I knew I had to hang out with him.
An hour later we sat in a dimly lit restaurant. We ate sandwiches and drank tea. To fill the silence, I waxed on about the history of Boulder, most of which I made up.
“Should we get dessert?” Demon asked, passing me the small dessert menu.
“Nah, it’s cool, I’m full.”
Demon stared down at the menu. “But you love dessert.”
“Not tonight. But you get something, if you want,” I added, hastily.
Demon set the menu neatly back on the corner of the table. I saw the realization dawn on his face: I was looking for excuses to spend as little time together as possible. He arranged the sugar and honey packets that had come with our tea.
“No, that’s okay. I’m full too,” Demon relented. We wordlessly paid the check.
I dropped Demon back at his hotel, giving him a quick hug. I offered to pay for his cab the next day. He declined. In the morning, I texted him and wished him a safe flight. I checked his flight status online, refreshing the page until his plane took off. As the status blinked to “departed” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.
Glamorous
After his visit, Demon began falling short of his room helper duties. He still set my count and banned trolls when necessary, but he was quieter than usual. Without Demon jazzing up the room, people tipped less, new visitors weren’t welcomed properly, and the room’s sense of community began to wane. We talked less. I missed the creative spark when we planned my shows together, and, dammit, FaceTiming me was a privilege. He should be thankful.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: hey Demon what do you think about a prom-themed show?
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: like, I wear an 80s prom dress and do my hair all crazy?
He didn’t respond. But I knew he was online.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: hello?
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: Dude what’s with you
I clicked on his profile and scrolled down. He had a recent post from AllieGirl, a girl who was, without question, definitely famous. She had won multiple awards, had several hundred thousand followers, and, on top of that, had been Demon’s favorite camgirl. Until he met me, of course. She had posted a message to his public wall.
AllieGirl: So good to see you again! xo
I hovered over her username and clicked. She was online. She was naked, straddling a chair, wearing a pink wig and holding a leather flogger in one hand.
“If you do it backhanded, it actually hurts more,” she was explaining, slapping her hand in demonstration.
Fluffer20: oh me likey
Demon9: That does seem quite enticing.
Excuse me? I clicked over to messages and sent Demon another one.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: why are you ignoring me
“I’ll be hosting a workshop at the AVNs,” Allie was explaining, “in case anyone wants to sign up.”
I had heard of the AVNs. I knew they were the Oscars of porn. MFC had sent out an email about them. Of course Allie was going to the AVNs. She was on an entirely different level than me. She was a celebrity.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: Demon, I’m thinking about going to the AVNs. Let’s talk strategy?
He wrote back almost immediately.
Private Message from Demon9: There’s no point in going unless you want to meet viewers
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: I want to meet my fans.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: I think it’s important for me to go. Sign autographs. Pose for pictures. Hug my guys.
Private Message from Demon9: I’m sure they’re all kind of weird and sad.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: what? No, some of them are really cool
Private Message from Demon9: not the ones that pay to go to these things
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: how do you know? Have you been?
He took several minutes to reply again.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: HELLO? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
In AllieGirl’s room, Demon was telling a joke.
Demon9: I have a good one, it’s a bit dorky though…
A moment later, he responded to me.
Private Message from Demon9: Sorry, just have some work to catch up on. If you go, maybe I’ll go too
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: If I go, I could meet AllieGirl. She’s a headliner at the expo
Private Message from Demon9: Is she?
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: What work are you doing?
He ignored me. In Allie’s room, Demon was talking up a storm, telling her how much he liked her new pink hair.
Demon9: You are the best camgirl, Allie. Everyone knows it
Demon9: Undisputed.
As if! I sent him a private message.
Private Message from TheOnlyUna: You should totally come. Maybe I’ll even give you a free autograph
I waited for him to reply. Maybe I should go to the AVNs. They took place in Vegas and there was a convention every year at the same time. At the convention, camgirls and porn stars and strippers stood at tables and signed autographs and met fans. If I went and made a splash, I would no longer just be Una, small-town camgirl from fake-Wyoming. I would become Una, world-famous camgirl and celebrity. I loved being the center of attention, and the AVNs presented the perfect opportunity to be the center of a whole lot of attention.
I looked up the dates: end of January. Only a month away. I stared at pictures of the expo: smiling cam models in front of white logo walls. Girls in shiny lingerie holding up framed posters of themselves. Girls posing together for photos, laughing, name badges front and center. Yes. This was exactly what I needed. I was going to become famous.
I quickly emailed MFC to let them know I would be attending, filled out some paperwork for my badge, and booked an appointment with a photographer who shot for Suicide Girls. I’d need pictures to sell, after all. A few days later, I got my badge number and confirmation email.
“I would like to announce, I’ve been asked to attend the expo at the AVNs,” I told my room proudly. “I’ll be signing autographs and meeting fans. Who’s coming?”
RomeoTurtle: wow are you a featured guest?
“Well,” I skirted the question, smiling mysteriously at the camera. “They did ask me specifically.” Me and literally every other camgirl on MFC.
I took out my phone. I hadn’t spoken to Alex in nearly two weeks, but my brand needed him.
Belle: hey Alex
Alex: Hey!
Belle: If we go to Vegas can we stay at the Bellagio?
Alex: where is this coming from? Vegas?
Belle: yeah, for the AVNs. Will you take me? I need a limo with my own driver, and I need to stay at the Bellagio, that’s the nicest hotel right?
Alex: ummmm…right. It’s my favorite
Belle: So yes or no? Can we go to Vegas?
Alex: Sure,
Alex: why not.
×××
Traveling with Alex was easy. First-class, a limo at the airport with “TheOnlyUna” on a digital placard, a room at the Bellagio with a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries. No one batted an eye at us checking in together, and no one batted an eye when he handed me his credit card so I could go buy myself a pair of shoes when I realized I had forgotten the red pumps I needed for my after-party outfit.
I had decided to stay at the Bellagio for one reason: I’m a classy lady. The Bellagio screams sophistication and old money, and Alex seemed like the perfect person to pay for it. The Bellagio was far away from both the hotel where the convention was and the hotel where AllieGirl’s after-party was. I’d scored Alex and myself tickets to the after-party by paying for them full-price, and in exchange Alex had agreed that he would use a code name and pretend to be a fan from
my room.
“You are a fan though—Knightman, remember?”
“Ah yes. I suppose I am.”
The one thing I hadn’t managed to score were tickets to the actual AVN awards. But I wasn’t worried: MFC had given me free passes to just about every other expo, convention, show, and after-party I could possibly want to attend. I had my own reserved spot at the MFC table. I was going to sign autographs. I was going to meet my adoring fans.
After checking in and dropping off our bags, Alex and I strolled around the hotel looking for dinner. The expo and awards and party weren’t until tomorrow. Tonight, I figured I would cam from the giant, luxurious bathtub in our room and prepare for the next day’s events. I had a schedule mapped out, with a different outfit for every occasion.
“We could do sushi,” Alex offered, pausing to read the menu at Nobu.
“Nah, I’m too starving for that.” I turned the corner, on the hunt for something big and preferably deep-fried. Alex reached for my hand, but I pulled away.
As I read the menu for an Italian restaurant, I had the distinct feeling I was being watched. I checked over my shoulder. A thin, pale man with plastic glasses and a black T-shirt stood in the corner of the hallway. I stared at him. He scratched his face nervously but said nothing.
“Actually, Nobu sounds good.” I led Alex back the way we had come, tracking the man out of the corner of my eye. He followed us, keeping his distance. At the entrance to the restaurant, he stopped, edged closer to me, then stopped again, rubbing his arms as if to warm himself. Alex went in and asked the hostess for a table. I hesitated, then pivoted confidently toward my stalker.
“Do I know you?” I asked, a bit too loud.
“Um…” His voice was soft and papery, and he rubbed his mouth with a thin hand. He glanced sideways then focused on a point slightly above my eyes. “Una?”
“…Yes?” I racked my brain for his face. Was this one of my viewers I should recognize? It was rare I knew what any of them looked like, but sometimes they sent pictures or asked me to watch their cameras so they could show me something—which more often than not was just their dicks with “property of Una” scrawled across them.
“It’s me. It’s Romeo. RomeoTurtle.” He touched his chest as if to emphasize, yes, this is me.