Cam Boy

by Quinn Anderson

  Jesus. When had he gotten so damn maudlin?

  He forced himself to move on, checking the announcements on the front page and the new releases. Several big summer blowouts were available, including a few Mike wanted to see: Lesbian Vampire Strippers, My Best Friend’s Boyfriend, and Heat Wave. All of them promised to be huge hits.

  There were a couple of his own new releases on the site as well. He watched the teasers for them with mild interest. Most people who worked in film claimed that it was always an experience to see themselves how the camera saw them, but that wasn’t the case for Mike. When he filmed a scene, the majority of his mannerisms were affected. He did whatever looked good on camera, and after three years, he had it down to a science.

  He checked the time. He’d only managed to kill two hours. With a sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and placed it on the desk next to his wireless keyboard. If anyone else called him to throw a fit, he might answer out of sheer boredom.

  There were plenty of parts of Murmur Inc.’s site that he never ventured on. He could take a tour while he had time to kill. He clicked on the Live Cam portion of the website first. Despite some obvious resemblances, porn and cam acting were so different, Mike avoided the live streams. Didn’t want to pick up on any bad habits. It’d be like asking a mime to teach him to juggle—similar, but not the same thing. Though he supposed it couldn’t hurt this once.

  In fact, it might do him some good to see how his fellow sex workers earned their keep. A handful of the channels had free general chats where prospective clients could talk with the stars before deciding to buy a private show.

  When the page loaded, the most popular cam girls popped up front and center. Their channels featured photos of them in obscene poses with brief biographies. Mike recognized a few of the big names in the industry, but he’d never worked with any of them.

  He spent a minute or two scrolling through the available women’s channels before toggling over to the other gender options. He selected men and then checked his phone while the new page loaded. He had a handful of Facebook notifications and a Snapchat from another male porn star. Nothing of real interest.

  The site loaded, and Mike glanced at it. For a second, he didn’t process what he was seeing. Then understanding crystalized in his brain.

  There were three new male webcam models, and one of them looked decidedly familiar.

  Mike stared open-mouthed at a memorable photo of a clean-cut blond man standing next to a horse. And not just because it was an unusual choice for a cam model’s cover photo. Josh would have stood out in the sea of shirtless, ripped men even if Mike hadn’t recognized him.

  Colette must not have had time to take head shots of him, or maybe she’d decided to roll with the wholesome, shined-shoes Americana thing he had going on. Now that Mike was looking at the photo again, he remembered it was what had first attracted him to Josh. There was something so pure about it, so guileless. If that was Colette’s marketing angle, it wasn’t a bad one. Plenty of people went for that whole boy-next-door thing.

  Yeah, people like you.

  This answered some of Mike’s questions. If Josh had chosen to go into cam work instead of porn, then his absence from the main website made sense. A newbie couldn’t try to corner both the porn and cam markets at the same time. It split their focus, and clients didn’t tend to cross from one to the other, so his fan base would get split as well.

  It raised some questions too, though. Cam stars didn’t work from location like porn stars did, or from the office like the phone sex operators. They could work from anywhere. Josh might be the only one on Murmur Inc.’s page who was from LA, which made it strange that Mike could see him at all. Cam stars had the ability to block viewers by geographic location. The smart ones blocked their entire home cities so no one they knew would stumble upon them by accident.

  Why then was Josh—

  Mike didn’t finish that thought. “Fucking newbie.”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face. Of course, Josh was too green to block the city where he lived. He might not even know that was an option. Colette would have explained it to him, or at least given him some info packets describing how to use the feature, but Mike would bet money Josh hadn’t thought it was necessary. Of all the irresponsible, reckless—

  He took a breath.

  He forced his eyes away from the photo to the name of Josh’s channel. It said it starred Bret Monty. So, Dick Reams had gotten the ax. Thank God. Mike suspected that was Colette’s handiwork. She’d done it at the right time too. If Josh had gone public with his other name, he would have been stuck with it. Since he was new, he could still do things like switch names and mediums without losing all brand recognition.

  So, the moral of the story here is Josh is still with Murmur Inc. He’s become a cam star.

  Mike’s eyes drifted to the green “live” light next to Josh’s channel, indicating that he was online right now. If Mike wanted to, he could see him again without having to leave his home.

  The mouse was in Mike’s hand before he could think about it. His computer had the room up and loaded in seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. A screen popped up, displaying the camera feed and the chat box where clients could chat with the star and each other.

  Sure enough, that was Josh.

  He was smiling—bright, white, and wide—and for a moment, the sight of his unguarded expression stunned Mike. Josh’s mouth moved, and Mike realized his sound was off. He scrambled to turn up his speakers just in time to hear Josh say something.

  “Yeah, I’m from LA. I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

  He must have been responding to a client’s question. Mike checked the chat box. There were thirteen users in the channel, and several of them were shooting rapid-fire questions at Josh—or Bret. Personal ones.

  “Damn it, Josh,” Mike muttered. “You’re not supposed to give away information about yourself.”

  Mike typed that into the comment box and hit Send. Josh was oscillating between reading the messages and looking into the camera. Mike watched his eyes dart down to the chat, and a little frown worked its way onto his brow.

  Did he read my message?

  “Oops,” Josh said. “Sorry guys, I just remembered I can’t answer certain questions about myself. You can ask me other things, though.”

  That confirmed it. Man, it felt good to talk to Josh again, even if it was anonymous.

  Of course, the predators in the channel were none-too-thrilled by Mike’s interference. Comments poured in.

  Let Bret tell us what he wants.

  What are you, his mom?

  Spoil sport. :P

  “Fucking creeps.” Mike sat back and ran a hand through his hair. Speaking of creeps, what the hell was he doing?

  You’re looking out for him. And good thing too. Knowing Josh, he probably would have told these guys his social security number, if they asked.

  It still felt weird. Here he was, watching Josh same as the rest of the clients. Or potential clients, as it were. None of them had paid for a private show from Josh yet, or he’d have gone offline. Josh would have to entice them into it. Most of the cam stars put on mini-shows, like stripteases or small sex acts. The thought made Mike go from irritated to turned on in a flash.

  Watching Josh on the cam, he understood why Colette had chosen such an organic cover photo for him. He was sitting there, relaxed and natural, in a tiny room that was probably his bedroom. He hadn’t even put on sexy clothes. Just jeans and a T-shirt that somehow looked flawless on him. Hell, his hair was wet, like he’d recently gotten out of the shower.

  A hard-core porn consumer would think Josh was a genius. He had not-trying-too-hard nailed to the wall. But that was the funny thing. Mike knew he genuinely wasn’t trying. This wasn’t Josh putting on a brilliant show of being natural. This was him having no clue what he was doing. And it worked. It especially worked on Mike, who was watching a bead of water slide down his temple like it was rapturous.


  Judging by the comments, the other people in the channel were eating it up too.

  ur so hott

  Did u just get out of the shower?

  tell us more baby

  Mike watched the comments stream by for a moment, half listening to Josh’s responses, before peering at what he could see of the room behind Josh. There was a TWENTY ØNE PILØTS poster by Josh’s head, a pile of dirty laundry on the floor, and peeling paint on the walls. Mike could also see the corner of a stack of books that looked like textbooks. Josh had never mentioned school, but he was twenty-one. It was possible he was enrolled in college, or he’d at least completed some of it.

  A lot of cam stars had separate spaces that they used for work. Josh wasn’t slick enough for something like that, but he could be in a friend or roommate’s room. Though the room felt like him, somehow. The things in it—the bands and the books and the laundry—seemed like things he would own. If this was his room, and these were his belongings, then Mike had gotten his first inside peek at Josh’s home life. Mike had a sudden, burning desire to know for sure.

  His fingers were on the keyboard in an instant.

  Is this your bedroom, Bret?

  To everyone in the chat room, including Josh, it would sound like another suggestive message. And indeed, that was precisely how it was received.

  “Yeah.” Josh grinned. “In all its glory. Pardon the mess.”

  That inspired a slew of comments that even Mike found obscene about what sorts of messes Josh made in his room. A strange emotion swirled in his stomach as he watched all the anonymous people clamoring for Josh’s attention.

  For a horrifying second, he thought it was jealousy, but the more he probed at it, the more he realized it was deeper than that. He didn’t care that other men were talking to Josh. Josh was working, same as Mike did. They all had bills to pay, and if these chat room guys wanted to pay them, so be it.

  It was more . . . the way Josh looked. So serene and laid-back. His inexperience couldn’t be more obvious, but he still seemed a hundred percent comfortable. Way more comfortable than he’d ever seemed when he was filming porn. With Mike.

  That was it. Understanding settled on Mike like cold sweat. That was what was bothering him. When they’d filmed together, Josh had been a jittery mess. He’d never been at ease, even when they were fucking. Mike had made a lot of mistakes with Josh. He’d recognized that almost immediately, and he’d done his best to atone for it. But the biggest one he’d made was thinking Josh wasn’t cut out for this business. He was. He just wasn’t cut out for porn.

  It seemed Mike’s time would have been better spent not mentoring him on how to be a porn star, but how to be in this business in general. And how to block your own damn city from getting your channel.

  There was also a special irony to the fact that Mike had schooled Josh on professionalism and separating business from pleasure, when here he was, in Josh’s channel, being decidedly unprofessional.

  It was becoming harder and harder to tell himself that he didn’t have it bad for this guy.

  His phone found its way into his hand before his brain registered the movement. He found Josh’s name in his contacts and stared at it as a plan solidified in his head.

  Before he let himself like Josh—for real like him, no denying it or acting like he was doing his job—he had to know if Josh shared so much as an inkling of his feelings.

  It was a long shot, but he had an idea that might allow him to find out.

  Josh had hung up on him the last time they’d spoken. If Mike called him right now, even Josh wasn’t inexperienced enough to answer the phone during a session. But what if Mike texted him? If Josh’s phone was near him, Mike might get to see, in real time, how Josh reacted to getting an unexpected text from him. The thought made him salivate.

  This is beyond creepy, Michael Harwood.

  I know, he answered his own mental voice, but I have to know.

  He composed a simple text message, asking how Josh was doing. He seldom used emojis, but Josh seemed like the sort of person who would like them, and so he tagged a winking face onto the end and hit Send.

  Not three seconds later, Josh paused after answering a question and reached into his pocket. His hand reappeared with his phone clutched between long fingers.

  Mike held his breath. He leaned forward in his chair and watched as Josh’s green eyes roved over the single line of text. And then, like a golden dawn sweeping over a grassy knoll, Josh’s face broke out into a smile.

  Not just any smile either. Possibly the most beautiful smile Mike had ever seen. Soft and damn near radiant. Mike wasn’t the poetic sort, but he could write a verse or two about the look on Josh’s face. It . . .

  Well, fuck. If Mike didn’t know any better, he’d say it looked a little bit like love.

  It was gone in an instant, a candle flame flickering out. Josh put his phone back in his pocket without answering. Mike experienced a brief twinge of rejection, but it wasn’t as if Josh could respond while he was working. The clients in the chat room were already commenting about him checking his phone at all. Mike would have to be patient and see if he responded to him later.

  It occurred to Mike that in all this time, no one had paid for a private show with Josh. That wasn’t unheard of, but Josh was also doing nothing to draw them in. Cam channels weren’t meant to be like interviews. The clients had only been entertained this far because Josh was new, and they wanted to know about him. When Josh failed to do anything more interesting than sit there, they’d get bored and move on.

  Mike knew from his handful of friends who did cam work that Murmur Inc. gave cam stars a base pay, but it was a pittance. If Josh was going to make any money, he’d need to learn the ropes. And he needed to make money to keep Colette from firing him. All her employees had goals and metrics they were held accountable to. She wouldn’t keep paying Josh to run a free channel that never landed any clients.

  Mike was done being a pseudo-mentor to Josh, but there was one surefire way he could still help him. He could get him off the ground and keep Colette off his back. At least, until Josh figured things out for himself. Which he was sure to do, judging by what a natural he seemed to be.

  Mike pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and took out his credit card. If he was going to be a creep, he was going to do it thoroughly.

  “It’s been years since I’ve been out.” Josh leaned his head back and breathed in deep. “Nothing like getting some fresh air.”

  Monica chuckled next to him. “If this is your idea of fresh air, papi, you’ve lived in the city too long.”

  Her words were almost drowned out by the pounding bass pouring from the nearby speakers. Twist—the gay club they’d made their home for the night—was packed wall-to-wall with bodies. Even for a Saturday, the turnout was fierce. They’d managed to snag a pub table to stand around, but now they were holding on to it for dear life. Darius and Ashley had made a trip to the bar while Josh, Monica, and Josh’s roommates guarded their real estate.

  “I don’t understand why we always have to go to gay bars,” Will huffed. In camouflage cargo pants and a Lakers jersey, he stuck out from the sea of glittery club wear around him like a neon I’m Straight sign. Which was ironic, considering the camo.

  “No one forced you to come.” A.J. threw a beefy arm around him. “You might as well enjoy yourself.” His eyes moved from Will’s face to a group of nearby guys who were staring at his flexed muscles. Rather than lower his arm, he brought his other one up to join it, posturing like a peacock.

  “Dude, you’re straight,” Chris said, pushing his black bangs out of his eyes. “Why are you always showing off your body when we come here?”

  “Is it so wrong of me to want all my hard work to be admired?” He finally removed his arm from around Will, but he moved at a snail’s pace so the guys could get a good look. “I spend five days a week at the gym, and by God, I am going to get hit on tonight.”

  Chris shook his head. “
I worry about you.”

  Ashley appeared next to Chris. “We come bearing alcohol!” In her arms were three beer bottles and a glass of red wine. She set the drinks on the table, paused to peck Monica on the cheek, and then distributed the alcohol. “Darius should be right behind me.”

  “I’m here, sug.” Darius, who had opted to show some beautiful dark skin with a pink mesh top and black sequin booty shorts, glided up to the table. “Enjoy, ya lushes.” He had two more beers, which he divvied up between Ashley and himself, and a wine cooler that made its way to Josh.

  “Thanks, guys.” Josh took a generous swig.

  Monica made a sour face, but the effect was diminished by the bright-pink kiss mark her girlfriend had left on her brown cheek. “I don’t know how you can drink those things. Just thinking about it gives me a hangover.”

  “What can I say?” He shrugged. “Tastes like candy, whereas beer tastes like fermented piss.”

  “You’re the last person in the world who needs to be sugared up.”

  “Stop judging me.”

  In truth, Josh was too embarrassed to admit the real reason he was drinking these: they were cheaper than cocktails, and he was broke. He hadn’t been back at the Globe long enough to get a paycheck yet, and cam work was harder than he’d thought it would be. He’d only booked a handful of private shows in the entire week he’d been at it. He had to be doing something wrong.

  I bet Mike could give me some pointers.

  Not for the first time that evening, Josh’s thoughts turned to his former costar. Ever since Mike had texted him out of the blue, all Josh seemed to do was think about him. The text had been simple, and yet Josh had still managed to overanalyze the fuck out of it.

  Was Mike checking up on him in general? Was he seeing how he was doing after the bad news he’d dumped on him? Why had he chosen to send a winking emoji? Josh had never been the academic sort, but he was quite certain he could write a dissertation on that five-word text.

  After hanging up on him, Josh had planned to let Mike stew for a few days before he reopened communication, but the surprise message had startled him into having a brief but pleasant exchange.