by Ray Hecht
Andrea Diaz first started having nightmares at the age of six. It was the year her father left.
Her earliest memories mainly consisted of waking up in tears and coughs, the overpowering fears of sleeping alone. And the hatred.
Her mother and father usually screamed at each other in frantic Español, a language she swam within as a small child but slowly evaporated away during kindergarten assimilation. She didn’t particularly mind the screaming. She was used to it. She didn’t even mind all the attention her new baby sister received. She only minded sleeping alone. The greatest pain she could ever recall was the loneliness of being cast off from the grand and mysterious parental bedroom, her bare feet cold, the smell of cigarillos, the sound of a baby’s wails within, and a slammed door in front of her little face. All those hours sitting in the hallway, staring at the white walls, the frightening hours of the night, without even the relief of a peaceful morning. Endlessly tiring.
A week shy of her seventh birthday, her father left. She never saw him again. Abuela moved in later that year, when summer holiday began and Mama was too busy to take care of the girls. Abuela let Andrea sleep in her bed anytime the child wanted. The pleasant warmth of another body, the comforting sound of breathing. Her grandmother was an angel. She smelled like cookies. It was the happiest time in the young girl’s life.
Then came the boyfriends. Mama had a score of them. “Uncles” after “uncles” who came to live in their home, and they brought with them more shouting. Those men unfailingly got themselves kicked out, one after the other.
The stream finally ended after the final one spanked Andrea’s bare bottom when she was twelve after a perceived insult to his manhood. After that, Mama didn’t take them home anymore.
Puberty came, with that the shame and fascination of her own body. In her middle school years Andrea began to experience regular increments of sleep paralysis. She no longer slept with her grandmother, and considered herself a very independent teenager. She enjoyed high school, not the classes (her grades were very poor) but rather the social aspects, and had a grand network of friends and parties to attend.
And several times a week she awoke in the middle of the night covered in sweat, sure that death was approaching. A living coffin, a body made of stiff, rotting wood; a corpse with eyes open. Lungs as dead as a pile of burned clothes, limbs like ingrown roots. Only eyes, nothing else.
It passed. Sometimes after several minutes, sometimes after what felt like hours. Her heart would race and race, and then at the last moment when all seemed lost she would suddenly be able to breathe. Yet no matter how many times she survived to enjoy the next sleep-deprived day, during each occurrence she was utterly convinced that death was on her way. Every time.
She kept this to herself, and by the time she graduated she rarely slept alone. Boys had replaced family, and the terrors happened only once or twice a month at that point. By the time she moved in with her twenty-four year-old collegiate boyfriend, to the detriment of her mother, Andrea no longer worried over night terrors. The boyfriend never knew.
The only person she ever told was her little sister, in confidence, during a night when she discovered her sister at ten-years old crying her own night away. They shared tears, slept alongside each other, and the next day went along with their lives as if the fear never existed.
* * *
Andrea woke up, and thereafter enjoyed a couple of smokes next to the hotel window. She didn’t end up staying long.
They left on somewhat good terms. He called her a cab, and rounded up generously with the fare. Plenty left over for a tip and she was happy to pocket the rest, and returned back to her own ride at Magicpark.
She didn’t enter the bar, and she didn’t look back.
When she arrived at her apartment, it was empty—roommate still out of town—and this time she concluded that was a positive. She checked the time to see it wasn’t even midnight yet. What a relief. It felt like much later. Turned out the night was young; she still had time to enjoy a nice evening.
She went to the kitchen and decided to make a salad. There was still some lettuce in the fridge, some carrots. She threw out a rotting pepper, and mixed together some dressing and garnishes and turned on a reality show. She crunched at the salted carrots mixed with vinegar, half-watched TV in the background, and laughed. Then on to the computer to catch up on minor emails. She even did the dishes.
Finally, when all else was done and she was reassured by a sense of accomplishment, she checked her phone.
First things first, some messages from guys. No longer in the mood, she deleted the bulk of them without reading. A surprisingly high number. One guy left ten messages in a row. She could hardly remember what they were talking about when last they corresponded. Oh well, she shrugged. Couldn’t be that important.
She strongly considered checking on her sister and family, since she hadn’t followed up since the afternoon. Ultimately she decided against it. If anything, it was Carla who should reach out first and only then would she happily respond. Andrea wasn’t going to suck up to her younger sister, no way.
Lastly, on to her friends. She would always be there for them.
Cera said hello. A reminder about some proposition. A money bag emoji was thrown around. Andrea was intrigued.
— Babe, she began. — Remember what I was talking about before… $
— Sure, she lied.
— I’m coming over. Cool?
— Well, let me see. Yeah sure babe. Why not!
Andrea felt awkward. She was notorious among her friends for being forgetful, but by now no one would hold it against her.
— Great. Cam session is on. Y’know my fans are going to tip big for girl-on-girl. Action time is 0:00 on the dot. The usual sites and sounds.
Oh.
Oh my.
Money split 50/50…
Andrea paused to think about that one. She hadn’t done a girl-on-girl scene in ages. Just when she thought she was edging out of that scene.
Why not?
— Sh’yeah I’m down.
Well, might be fun. Why the hell not indeed?
* * *
Cera always did take the camgirl thing more seriously. Andrea was haphazard about the whole affair, treating it as a quick way to make money on occasion. On the one hand, nothing wrong with that. But on the other hand, she didn’t want it to be her identity or anything. Certainly not a viable career option. She still planned to get a proper job, if one presented itself.
Cera, however, was an aspiring model—hair model, to be specific—and a serious one at that.
Yet it’s not easy to be a model, in this big city of wannabes, a faceless beauty among all those others.
There are other, easier ways to find fame and fortune.
Cera’s backup job, which she also took seriously, involved the persona of “Molly Cupcake.”
Molly Cupcake of the popular website. Molly Cupcake who appreciates her fans, stays plugged in and perpetually updates.
Molly Cupcake bares all, and regularly schedules girl-on-girl scene for all subscribers so long as they pre-tip no less than twenty tokens.
Subscribe now.
Andrea considered the persona of Molly Cupcake as she tidied up the living room, now feeling relief that her roommate was out of town. Cera was happy for a change of venue and had promised to come over quick.
Choosing the spacious living room over the cluttered bedroom, with the broad sofa, it would do well to put the laptop on the coffee table. It could always be moved around later, but she needed to find the best starting-off point. Subsequent testing showed the best possible angle placement involved using a couple of fashion magazines in order to tilt the miniature webcam upwards.
Then, while waiting, she decided to browse Cera’s—that is, Molly’s—website. A beautiful page. Artsy. Not too hardcore, no dicks or anything, only a few shots utilizing smooth purple toys. Mostly photos of Cera in the nude and smiling in various natural positions. She look
ed like she was having a lot of fun. Taking a shower, playing video games, brushing her teeth, pillow fighting, posing nude in front of the mirror, wearing only a top and exposing her round butt, and more often than not making out with other models. All with links to very active Twite’gram and Pic Pac accounts.
There was a knock on the door. On instinct, Andrea rapidly closed the laptop as if she was almost caught doing something torrid. She chucked to herself for it as she answered the door.
“Hey girlfriend!” they said over each other as the door opened. Before she knew it the two were in a tight embrace. Andrea noticed that Cera brought an oversized designer bag. Must have been expensive.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Cera said, and tossed the bag to the corner of the living room. “I can’t believe you were so out of it this morning.”
“I can’t believe you were so out of it,” Andrea said, and led her friend inside. The door snapped shut and she made sure to lock it. “I’m better now. It is getting late though.”
“Late is the best time for this kind of work, and you know it.”
“Babe, I’m totally a night person. You know me all too well.”
“Right on. Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Shall we get started?”
Cera proceeded to take out tiny strips of cloth from the bag. Andrea realized, upon seeing the lacy frills, that it was lingerie. Her friend went to the bathroom and stripped—not erotically at all—and Andrea peaked inside. “Can’t wear these and walk around,” Cera said, tiny pink nipples exposed. After carefully slipping the sensitive material over each breast, she put her casual wear back on top, T-shirts and jeans shorts. “For the reveal later,” she said. “What are you wearing?”
“Good question.”
They went to Andrea’s bedroom underwear drawer, and dug around, throwing clothes every which way around her already-cluttered room. “Do you have a thong?”
“I think so.”
“Where is the damn thing? Oh, I see it.”
“Ah, that’s hot!”
Andrea enjoyed dressing up. She grabbed a handful of panties and bras and went to the bathroom to try them on. She rolled up her dress over her head, and Cera helped unhook her bra and Andrea took off all her clothes with no shame. No excitement either, only mere routine. Eventually she chose the red cotton underwear and matching bra—a new set she’d recently purchased and hadn’t had the chance to show off yet.
“So,” Andrea said, making idle conversation while pulling shorts up and down, “Did anything end up happening?”
“No idea what you mean.”
“Y’know. Like, did you hook up with Blake?”
“Ew! No way. I told you girl, I’m not a slut.”
“Alright. I’m just asking.”
“He did have a good-looking cock. But a girl’s got to have some self-respect.”
“For sure. God! I can’t decide what to wear. Shorts or a skirt? I want something, like, silky. But comfortable. Girl next door, right?”
“I’m here for you.”
“The underwear was so much easier to choose.”
Cera decided to offer some advice, based off her hard-won experience. “Girl next door is right on. I recommend wearing something basically normal,” she said. “Cute, but practical. It’s not a date. Guys these days like us to be approachable, or something. The reveal is the sexy part, you know?”
“Like, I think I know what I’m doing,” said Andrea, mildly annoyed at being talked down to. “How about this tank top?”
“Super cute!” Cera answered with glee. “Where’d you get it?”
“Online.”
Once they had their clothes on, they started with the makeup. Various shades of lipstick were applied and discarded, skin washed and rewashed, and Andrea finally settled for bluish haze plus hot pink. Thick black eyeshadow hid the windows to the soul. Rosy red cheeks powdery and spotless.
Next, Cera presented the wigs. Several varieties, from long blonde locks to curly brunette. The girls quite enjoyed toying with the wigs, and Cera chose one with straight brown hair and black streaks. Andrea liked playing the strawberry blonde, but wanted to cut it shorter, and was given permission to slightly trim the ends. She found the thick plastic pieces that fell were nothing like the airy messiness that comes from cutting real hair, and the cleanup was easy. Finally, she looked at herself with her camera.
“I love it.”
“You look so hot.”
“Oh I’m definitely posting this,” she said, and snapped several selfies. Cera was mildly annoyed at the unduly amount of time on the screen that followed, focused on editing the pictures with filters and text applications. Tap, tap, tap went her fingers.
“Cool,” Cera said, eyes glued. “Ten hearts already.” In truth, posting the selfies was about stalling for time and promotion as much as they were about preserving posterity. After all that preparation, Andrea came to the realization that they were about ready. She felt a little nervous as it sank in, and decided to offer some wine. “Want a drink? I have a chilled white in the fridge. Nice aftertaste”
“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.”
As she passed the setup of sofa-laptop-bag, she saw that only a few things were left in the designer bag. The sex toys.
She took a long, inelegant sip.
“Let’s go.”
The girls giggled loudly as they set up everything. Dimmed the lamps. Placed the bag of sex toys within easy reach, with a couple of dildos right on the table.
“Isn’t this cool we can be so sex-positive together?” Cera declared. “It’s so great to be in a safe space where society doesn’t judge us and we can explore ourselves. Let’s take a moment to be grateful.”
“I know right,” Andrea agreed. “Wait. I’m having some trouble. Can you help me adjust my wig one last time?”
With that wig adjustment, they began. Cera went to her site and logged on. “Here we go.”
“Damn girl, let’s go!”
Cera went to ChatOffzzz.com and logged in as content provider. Clicked under Lesbian Couple Action. They observed themselves in the video window, and adjusted the monitor a bit. She entered Live! on her Molly Cupcake website, and the shift began.
The light was on.
“The beginning parts are so boring,” Andrea said.
“Let’s make a good screencap.”
“Oh, okay.”
The two girls sat cross-legged and straddled over each other. “Okay, now what?”
“Come here,” and Cera’s compassionately pinched her friend’s face. Then she leaned in, and their lips touched. Then she leaned in ever so further, and stuck her tongue inside. Andrea responded by slowly opening her mouth and patting her partner’s hips. Limbs danced up and down. Fingers tugged beneath cloth, touched skin, scratched ever so gently.
Always careful to not disrupt the wigs.
All the while, Cera had one eye open and looking at the monitor.
It was somewhat enjoyable, but Andrea preferred even a drunk old man to another girl. The lips too soft. Not enough power in the arms. No strong feeling of being held.
Not that it was her first time, but it had been a while. She realized she was basically only moving body parts around, and deep inside she felt no important stirring. No emotional resonance. Only tactile sensations. Ultimately, empty.
“Let’s see how those turned out,” said Cera. “Oh, I like that.” She chose a screencap from two minutes in and saved.
“You’re so hot, Cera.”
“Molly.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Molly, you are so fucking hot. I’m jealous.”
“You’re a good kisser yourself.”
Just then, she noticed something on the screen.
These girls are hottiez!, said user Johnny5678.
And then she felt a stirring.
“This is fun.”
Cera/Molly went up and typed a thanks! Then a you likeee?
Suck her titties, said Cocksm
an6666.
“Whoa,” she said aloud. “Slow down. Did I say we were taking requests already? We haven’t even gotten out of these constricting clothes yet…”
Then she typed, that’ll be a 10 token tip. who's first gets to choose what nipple is to be sucked!
Andrea sat there, just smiling. Her tank top was pulled off, slowly and playfully. Then her friend did a quick strip show to expose her lingerie outfit, butt cheeks filling the screen.
A ding! sound as four ten-token tips popped up at once.
That was fast, Cera/Molly typed: Let me see… …
When it was sorted out, a winner was chosen. SeeULaterGator99 politely suggested Andrea’s left breast. Many please’s and thank you’s were expressed. “Aw, honey, you’re so kind,” she said aloud.
Skin popped out from under the bra, now loose-fitting. She let it be, and Cera played with the nipple a bit to get it hard, which didn’t take long.
Pink lips sucked at her body, and she closed her eyes and imagined an ex. Tongues tickled. It was somewhat arousing, although she would’ve preferred it rougher.
Onscreen she saw a myriad of posters write FAP FAP FAP! with accompanying customized emojis of masturbating eggplants and phalluses, and only then she felt truly aroused.
She went up and posted some happy-faces herself.
Soon she was wearing only panties, and her partner was fully nude. They laughed together and talked about toys and sexual experiences. Virginity losses and favorite positions. Some of the posters where entertaining to the girls, telling jokes about their own, often humiliating, sex stories. Andrea discovered she was fond of Cocksman6666, but his frequency of posts faded after the viewership reached a hundred. Many of them were only previewers, who were kicked off after a ten-minute sample, but most were paying subscribers and their every whim drowned the conversations.
By the first hour, the audience had grown to over five hundred. There was no longer any comprehension to it; the original posters she had bantered with were now lost in a sea of faceless ideograms.
However, the token counter raised her spirits. The digital currency was shown to be in numbers high enough that, when converted to U.S. dollars, was nearing four-digits. Her eye was never far from the counter, and her head never fully quit calculating that math. This kept Andrea motivated.
