by Isa Mazzei
In person, Queen Molly was even cooler than online. She had perfect posture, an air of nonchalance, and was just underdressed enough to make me believe that she didn’t quite care what anyone thought of her. I was very conscious of the glittery gold lace in my blue satin bra straps, my perfect makeup, my complicated updo copied from a YouTube tutorial.
Pepper had set up her laptop across from Queen Molly. I walked up to her and waved. She smiled at me, then turned back to her laptop. I sat down next to her. I felt dizzy. My fingers were twitching. I kept my voice steady and smiled at Pepper.
“How’s it going?”
Pepper nodded and said nothing, instead turning her webcam toward me. I waved at her chat room. She shifted the camera back.
“Guys, seriously though!” She lifted the camera again and panned it around the room. Several girls waved back from their own laptops.
Queen Molly smiled obligingly when the camera was on her. I tried to think of something to say. Hi, you’re amazing? Hi, I’m Una? Hi, you’re the reason I cam? No, too thirsty. Maybe something simple like, Hi, I love you?
“Molly,” Pepper drawled, motioning to her with a finger. “Phil wants to know why you’re not online.”
“I’m busy,” Queen Molly replied simply, stirring her drink with her straw. Our eyes met.
“I’m Una,” I jumped at the chance, holding out my hand.
“Molly.” She touched my hand with hers, then retreated back to her drink and people-watching. Her eyes were huge and green, and her skin was impossibly flawless.
“I’m a huge fan of yours,” I tried again, the words spilling out faster than I intended. “You were one of the first camgirls I ever watched. You’re awesome.”
“Aw thanks, girl.” Molly smiled. “I think I’ve seen you actually. You do those weird crafts, right? The animals?”
“Yeah, well…yeah.” I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t believe she had seen my show.
Molly smiled into my eyes and then glanced down at her drink. “Well, I think you’re pretty cute, Una. Can I get your number?”
“Of course! It’s 307—” I began hastily.
Pepper shushed me, motioning to her laptop, eyes alarmed. Molly smiled quietly and passed me her phone.
“Just type it in,” she explained. I blushed. I passed back her phone. A second later my phone vibrated.
Molly: where do you live?
Una: Denver-ish. You?
Molly: No way! I’m in Denver.
Una: that’s so funny. I pretend to live in wyoming
Molly: no way!
Una: yeah…that’s why my number is a Wyoming number
Molly: You gave me your fake number!
Una: Well, you are a stranger
Molly laughed and looked up at me.
Molly: not for too much longer I hope ;)
Holy crap. Queen Molly liked me. Like, maybe actually liked me.
Una: watch out, or I’ll have to tell my cam room you’ve been hitting on me
Molly: so what if I am?
Una: they’ll probably want us to do a show together or something
Molly: I think i’d like that very much.
I looked up at her. She looked away and nonchalantly sipped her piña colada, her lips closing around the straw slowly and delicately. She was so hot. Molly glanced back over casually, looking past me out the door. Her eyes lingered on me for just a second too long. I sat and tried to think of what to say next, but a girl in cat ears ran up and pulled Molly over to her computer excitedly. After a few more minutes of sitting in silence next to Pepper, I got up to leave. I said bye to Pepper and waved at Molly. Her eyes followed me as I left the room.
Glowing, I wound my way back through the seemingly endless bedrooms, bathrooms, and sitting rooms. The party was still in full swing. I floated back to the bar. It was still relatively early in the night, maybe eleven. A girl in purple matching lingerie sucked down a gin and tonic and asked for another.
“Hey, you’re Una.” She gave me a smile. I recognized her from the site. She was Megan, a relatively new girl who had started several months after me but was already among the top ten on the site. Her hook was that she was a nymphomaniac who was also good at video games—which, I had to admit, was a really good hook.
“Megan, hi, I’m a big fan.” I held out my hand but she gave me a hug, bare skin warm against my chest.
“Have you checked this place out?” Megan asked with a wicked smile. “It’s insane. Come upstairs.” She took my hand as casual as could be and led me up the grand staircase. At the top was a large door leading to a bathroom, and in the bathroom, four girls giggled in a soapy bath tub. Another girl in heels and a short dress fell into the oversized tub in all her clothing, laughing hysterically. She emerged from the soapy water moments later, fully naked, tossing her soggy heels across the floor.
Megan grabbed my hand and led me toward the bathroom. I stood and strutted confidently across the floor, trying to catch the eyes of a group of men standing near the door. They were too busy watching what was going on in the tub.
“Cara!” Megan wrapped the naked soapy girl in a hug.
“Megan…” A deep voice boomed out across the tiled bathroom. An older man, maybe in his fifties, walked right up to the two mostly naked girls and hugged them both. They seemed happy to see him. He was wearing suit pants and a white tank top and didn’t seem to mind the soap.
“Jiggy!”
The man, Jiggy, perched on the side of the tub casually glancing at the four submerged girls. I knew his name: he was a big tipper on the site. He had even stopped by my room a couple times, but never tipped. He wore two gold pinky rings and a chain around his neck. He had gray hair, stubble, and a large belly. His voice was deep and commanding.
“Having fun in here, ladies?”
They nodded, all smiles. It was clear Jiggy had power; he was comfortable approaching us, which contrasted with the awkward hovering many of the other guests seemed to adopt.
“Jiggy, this is Una.” Megan introduced me. Jiggy took my hand and softly kissed it. One of the girls giggled.
“Enchante.” His stubble tickled my hand.
“Nice to meet you, Jiggy,” I smiled. I held his eye contact for a beat too long, then looked down at my feet, shyly, willing his eyes to follow mine down over my body.
“If you’re friends with this one, then you’re in for a ride, huh?” He winked at me, then turned to a soapy girl in the tub who was grabbing onto his arm.
Megan kissed his cheek then moved back into another bedroom. I followed, glancing back at Jiggy. I’d have to find him later. Make sure he planned on stopping by my room sometime.
“Jiggy is a huge tipper,” Megan explained to me. “He doesn’t pick favorites though, and he hates it when girls try to claim him as theirs. But if you pretend you don’t care,” she raised her eyebrows, “he can pay quite a few of your bills.” I feigned ignorance and nodded, wanting Megan to like me. “He’ll probably stop by your room now that he’s met you and drop a couple hundred dollars. If you play it cool and don’t react too much, he’ll come back.”
Megan led me into an adjoining bedroom with a round bed. A few girls were already lying on it, and she patted the bed beside her as she took a seat. I sat next to her.
“This bed is amazing!” I bounced a little.
“Guys, this is Una.” The other girls smiled and waved.
“I always love your hair flowers,” one of the girls complimented me. “You have such a funny show!”
I grinned. “Oh, thank you.”
Megan reached around behind the bed and hit a button. With a whir, the bed began to rotate.
“This bed is insane,” Megan giggled, lying on her back and pulling me down next to her. We lay on the bed, hand in hand with four other girls, rotating slowly. Above us, a perfectly rou
nd mirror reflected us back.
“You should probably take off your dress,” Megan commented. “If you want.”
“Megan’s always trying to get everyone naked,” a girl in a bikini joked.
“How funny, me too!” I smiled. “Okay, unbutton me.” We stood. As Megan undid the buttons down the back of my dress, I glanced across the room. On a bed near us, a girl was bound and gagged on all fours. Another girl whipped her with a long, leather riding crop, while another held a Hitachi magic wand against her clit. The girl moaned through her gag. A dozen people watched quietly. We had been instructed in the invitation not to interrupt, cheer, or otherwise bother people engaged in sexual activity, known as “sceneing.” The result was a silence perhaps more noticeable than talking. I stared at them, feeling out of place all of a sudden.
I felt Megan’s hands slow, as she began to caress my back. She dropped my dress to the floor, and pushed me gently into a corner near the closet. She wanted to hook up.
Good, I thought. This is what you like. Being naked, watched.
I turned to face her. Megan grabbed my hair, all of a sudden pulling me in for a kiss. I kissed her, eying the group on the bed. She kissed me deeply, with tongue, grinding her body against mine. A group of men stood riveted, watching the girls in the bed, totally ignoring us. I tried to steer her closer to the group of gathered men, but she pulled me back.
“Take off your bra,” she commanded, unhooking my bra from behind. I pulled it off, folding it and setting it on a shelf. I eyed the group. If Megan wanted attention, this wasn’t the way to get it: there was no way we could compete with the girls on the bed. Well, maybe if we really got into it. I kissed her deeply, letting myself moan a little.
I was wearing just a baby-blue-and-gold La Perla thong. No one looked our way. Megan kissed me again, her lips soft and warm. My hands found her body: soft skin, round hips. Her hand ran up my thigh. Okay, well don’t go there, Megan. I only want to make out.
I kissed her ear. All of a sudden, the naked soapy girl from the tub was behind me, sandwiching me between them. My back was covered in foamy bubbles. She kissed Megan, and they made out over my shoulder. I felt Megan’s fingers sliding toward my crotch. I moved my hips away from her a bit, hoping to distract her. The naked girl giggled and unhooked Megan’s bra. Megan’s finger slipped under my underwear. You want this, I reminded myself. This is good.
Megan stroked me lightly and slid a finger up my vagina, making out with the soapy girl. Okay. This could feel okay. Her finger moved inside me. I felt nauseated. I glanced to my left. Two men leaned against a glass wall, sipping drinks and watching us without talking. I tried to smile at one of them and hold his eyes as I pushed myself against Megan’s hand. That guy probably has a boner, I thought. But he didn’t. One of them was chewing on his straw. He looked bored. Megan pulled back from the soapy girl and turned to me.
“Should we go in the closet?” She slid her hand out from inside me and opened the door to the closet, soapy girl taking the lead and charging inside, giggling again. My heart sank.
“Inside? Why?” No. I looked at the bed, where one of the girls had begun going down on the other. Everyone around me was laughing, smiling, orgasming, playing. Megan wanted to have fun, and she didn’t even want anyone to see.
“So it’s more private, duh.” The soapy girl fell back against some bathrobes and clung to them to right herself. The closet was small and dark, and I felt panic just looking at it.
“Uh, no thanks.” I moved toward my bra.
“No?” Megan grinned at the girl in the closet. I blushed, embarrassed.
“No, I mean, it’s good, I just…” The soapy girl grabbed for Megan’s hand.
“Come on, Megan, shut the door,” she insisted, ignoring me.
I glanced inside, willing myself to go in. Just go in, Isa. Go have fun with these girls in the damn closet. Be normal. “I need to go find my friend—sorry,” I said hastily, the words rushing out all on top of each other.
“Okay, sure,” Megan shrugged and followed soapy girl into the closet, shutting the door behind them. I took my dress and bra in my hand and wound my way through the maze of rooms where sexually liberated humans fucked and sucked and flirted not for money, but for fun. I should be having sex with Megan and the soapy girl in the closet. I wanted to want that. I felt tears sting my eyes.
I was ready to leave. As I rounded the bend in the long, elegant staircase, I saw a commotion in the foyer. A crowd of about thirty or forty people was gathered around, camgirls and fans alike, completely silent. They were surrounding what I quickly realized was a group of girls on their knees on the floor in a row, like a long snake. There were about seven of them in total, taking up most of the space at the foot of the stairs.
As I got closer, I realized with a start that the girls were all fisting each other. Each girl on her hands and knees had one hand and wrist completely inside the girl in front of her, who similarly had her arm inside the girl in front of her. At the end of the line, in sequin pasties, was AllieGirl, almost up to her elbow in a girl whose breasts nearly touched the ground.
I inched my way down the stairs, hugging the wall, very aware suddenly that I was only in a thong. I clutched my dress to my chest. A few faces in the crowd glanced up at me then back down at the chain of girls. Jiggy stood near Allie and caught my eye, gesturing for me to come over. I smiled uncomfortably and tried to walk past him, only inches from Allie’s bare ass.
“Una!” Allie called to me softly, still facing away. “Come play!”
Jiggy raised his eyebrows at me, grinning. “Join our centipede.”
A human centipede of fisting, I thought. I tried to steady my breathing. My eyes were blurry. The room spun. I desperately tried to keep the tears in my eyes from falling. I tried to smile. Shook my head.
“Come on, let’s go,” I whispered to Alex, finding him near the back of the gathered group. Alex followed me to the entrance of the suite where I paused to pull on my dress. I was still trying hard not to cry. Alex offered me his suit jacket and I wrapped it around myself, no longer caring if anyone saw me leave with him.
“Are you okay?” Alex asked tentatively.
I took a breath and adjusted the strap of my high heel. “Yep. All good. Just starving. Can we get sushi?”
“Of course. Room service?”
“Great.”
I led him out of the suite, to the elevator, and out the doors to our waiting limo. I was quiet. I stared out the window. Tears finally fell down my cheeks, and I tasted the bitterness of my supposedly waterproof mascara. What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t a celebrity. I wasn’t even close to a celebrity. No one cared that I was there. A few people knew my name, sure. But I wasn’t the one selling photographs of my feet for hundreds of dollars. I wasn’t the one in the VIP room with my gold wristband and a giant poster labeling me a special guest. I couldn’t even have sex at the party like a normal person. Who didn’t want to have sex with Megan?
I did not belong here.
Hidden Place
Model: TheOnlyUna
Status: In Private Show
Room Topic: Privates night! Message me to schedule!
Countdown: 0 Tokens
Private Message from BlueRune: bend your elbows more
Private Message from BlueRune: you can raise one of your arms a bit more too
Private Message from BlueRune: higher
Private Message from BlueRune: yeah like that
I was standing as far away from my camera as my small room would allow, dressed in pink panties, pink thigh-highs, and a pink silk camisole. My client for the private was named BlueRune, and he was relatively new.
“Now what?” My legs were positioned awkwardly, duck-legged, as though I were failing at a ballet class. One of my arms was extended in front of me, elbow slightly bent. The other was held higher, hand slightl
y above my head.
Private Message from BlueRune: lightly touch your middle fingers to your thumbs
I touched my middle fingers to my thumbs, like I was meditating.
Private Message from BlueRune: no lighter so it’s barely touching.
I did my best, careful not to move the rest of my body too much.
Private Message from BlueRune: Now do the eye thing I taught you
I did, tracing the outline of a letter on my screen with micromovements that would lessen the frequency with which I needed to blink.
Private Message from BlueRune: you’re breathing too much
“Sorry.”
Private Message from BlueRune: shhhhhhh
“Sorry.” I set my mouth slightly open, lips barely touching, and arched my chin very gently upward. I slowed my breathing. I made each inhale move my chest as little as possible. I had dusted my face with powder to even my tone, and I had black hair bands wrapped around my shoulders, my wrists, my thighs. In combination, these features had the eerie result of making me look like a mannequin.
My goal tonight was simple: make my tipper happy. And in this case, my tipper wanted me to be a mannequin. For as long as possible. Unfortunately for him, my very-out-of-shape body was not cooperating at holding unnatural poses for long periods of time. My calf trembled. My ankle slipped out of alignment. I pulled it back and straightened myself. Blue remained silent.
I was always open to learning about new viewers’ kinks and fetishes. I often repeated a phrase from a queer group I had attended as a teenager. It was actually the only official rule of my room: Don’t Yuck Someone’s Yum. I was trying not to Yuck Blue’s Yum, but I wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. “So do I just stand here?” I tried to move my mouth as little as possible, but I had to ask. “Can I do anything else?”
Private Message from BlueRune: no no that’s good
I held the pose, willing my calves not to shake.
Private Message from BlueRune: you’re a good doll