I might have only been a friend, but at least I was his only female friend. I was a lot closer to ‘pinning him down’ than any of the other girls at my school. Even the hot ones who weren’t afraid to flaunt the schools’ dress code with low-necked blouses and skirts that had guys following them upstairs, hoping against hope for the perfect glimpse of what lay underneath. Meanwhile, I was a ‘jeans and t-shirt’ kind of girl. Still am when I’m not camming.
My mind reels back to last night. Under Brice. On top of Brice. We’re no longer high school students. The term ‘friends’ no longer identifies us correctly, but what its proper replacement might be is still murky. Are we on our way towards a real relationship? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Have I finally pinned down the unpinnable Brice?
Or are we now somewhere between that commitment and the relationship title we held so long? Friends with benefits, perhaps? Will we continue this carnal relationship in the bedroom, while continuing to act like the goofy teenagers we used to be in the living room and beyond? Would that be enough for either of us? Or, worse, would it be too much?
This leads to my greatest fear. That last night broke something between us that can never be mended or molded into something new. It is simply destroyed. All the glue in the world might not be able to bring us back together. It would explain why he left instead of staying the night. It wouldn’t even have been the first time he stayed over, though those times he’d slept on the couch. Only once had we slept in my bed before, and that was purely innocent. I was ridiculously drunk and he fell asleep while trying to keep a bowl under my head to keep me from covering every square inch of my apartment with vomit. Hardly the romantic atmosphere. But tonight had been different. Maybe just a business transaction, but possibly something much, much more.
A distant rumble of thunder promises oncoming rain. I have nothing to do and no desire to head outside. So I pour myself an embarrassingly large bowl of cereal and milk. Eventually, I check my email only to find that I have a notification from the cam site. I almost put it off, sure it’s nothing but some dick pic from a viewer who doesn’t know where the boundaries ought to be. But after last night’s performance, I’m worried it’s from our generous benefactor, possibly pulling out of his side of the agreement. He could have lodged a formal complaint and gotten his money returned. After logging in though, I find that the complete opposite is true.
It’s him. The same guy. He’s not threatening me, but making an offer. He claims to own a studio that specializes in pornography. Last night was a sort of audition. He wants to meet Brice and me. He wants to discuss a business opportunity.
There’s a phone number and an address. My cereal sits on the side table, forgotten and growing soggy. The Princess Bride has ended and an infomercial advertising a miracle food container now drones on somewhere in the background while I read through the message again. This email throws one more complication into the mix. How can I ever explain to Brice that last night has become more to me than business and yet also say that there’s more money waiting for us if we wish to pursue it?
I lick my lips. Think about what I should do. I could simply erase the message and pretend I never saw it. There’s the chance that Brice regrets last night and doesn’t even want to see me. This offer could be the final straw that breaks his proverbial back. He might see me as nothing but a disgusting whore now and want nothing to do with me.
But Brice isn’t like that at all. And this might be the perfect opportunity for us to explore a little further. Maybe he’s actively ignoring me because he’s just as awkward as I am. Maybe he want’s to move forward but doesn’t know which foot to take the first step with. Of course, I’m not going to know the situation between us until I actually reach out to him.
When I finally begin typing out a text, I keep having to remind myself that this is Brice. So after agonizing for fifteen minutes over what exactly to say, I erase everything I’ve written and send a one-word message:
Hi.
His reply is instantaneous.
Hi yourself.
How’s life today? I ask.
Not bad, not bad.
Such a vague reply. How am I supposed to take this if I can’t hear the tone of his voice? I try to be a little more direct in my next message. But I don’t want to sound too serious, so I playfully say, So I heard you hooked up with a hottie last night.
His next message takes too long to come back. I can see that he’s typing, but I keep wondering if he’s planning to send a long message or if he keeps going back and erasing what he’s just written like I did earlier.
Finally it comes though.
Is that the rumor? Because I heard it was you who slept with the hot guy. Guess we both got lucky, huh?
A relived sigh falls from my mouth. Brice is teasing me, which means our relationship isn’t broken beyond repair. We’re okay. I don’t know exactly where we go from here, but we’re okay.
I text him the name of the restaurant where the guy wants to meet us for lunch, but I don’t tell him why I want to go there. In fact, I lie about it.
Just want to celebrate our little windfall. What do you say?
Sounds perfect. See you then!
A twinge of guilt wriggles around my brain. I’m effectively walking him into a trap. I’ve been doing this cam girl thing for six months, but I’ve never met one of my sponsors in real life. Now I’m forcing Brice into a lunch meeting with the man who paid us to have sex on camera. I almost call the whole thing off. In fact, I have the message halfway typed when I erase it all and put the phone down while I get dressed.
Brice might sound fine through text message, but there’s no way to read his true emotions. Our status as friends or lovers is still fuzzy. Taking this job might be the only way to keep us together. Of course, it also has the potential to tear us further apart, but I try not to think about that. Brice and I have been in each other’s lives forever. Sure, I’m blindsiding him here, but he’ll forgive me. It’s a good deal for both of us. And I know if I told him who we were meeting he wouldn’t show up. This is the only way. Right?
The restaurant is one of those hipster vegan places where they serve food on flat stones rather than plates. The prices are a little steep, but the atmosphere is worth it. They’ve got half a dozen old arcade games lined up along the back wall. Three have got customers playing on them, challenging the high score to Donkey Kong. That’s one of the first games that Brice and I played together. Neither of us could afford the newest games when we were kids, so we played on his older brother’s ancient Nintendo.
My benefactor is sitting at a table along the right wall, a retro poster of Star Wars hanging behind him. He’s wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt with a white floral imprint. This is how I’m supposed to identify him.
For one second, I regret agreeing to meet up. I’m sure that this was the wrong decision, not just for Brice’s sake, but for mine as well. This man has seen me at my most intimate. How am I supposed to sit and just have a conversation with him when I know he jerked off to Brice and me last night?
“Brightlights3249?” he asks as he stands and extends a hand. As soon as he voices my online handle, I whip around to make sure no one who could have heard it might recognize my name. It’s weird too because as many times as I’ve seen my online persona’s title written out on my computer screen, this is the first time I’ve ever heard anyone say it out loud. “I’m Greg.”
“Just call me Tess,” I say and sit without shaking his hand. I’m not ready for even that simplest of physical contact. Not with this man.
“And where is the male lead in this production? Ah,” he says, looking behind me towards the front door. “Here he comes now.” Greg waves at Brice, who’s staring in confusion until he recognizes me sitting at the same table. Brice’s expression goes from horrified recognition to something like disgust as he walks up behind me. His hands go to the back of my chair where I can feel them tense as he addresses Greg for the first time.
“It’s you, isn�
��t it?”
Greg doesn’t look offended. I’m not sure this man can be offended. If our first meeting hadn’t been on a cam sight where he paid for Brice and me to have sex on camera, I might have viewed Greg as an affable uncle who has delved a little too deeply into geek culture for a man of his age. He has that doughy figure of someone who spends most of his days behind a desk. His clothes are ill fitting, the t-shirt he wears advertising some Japanese animation aimed at an audience much younger than him. While Brice breathes fire behind me, Greg returns his clipped greeting with a confused smile.
“Yes, it’s me.” He then brings his gaze down to meet mine, which is off to the side, boring a hole in the wall, wishing I had never agreed to this. “Didn’t you tell him we were meeting?”
“You agreed to this?” Brice is at my side now. He’s taken my wrist in his grip. “You mean he didn’t follow you here?”
“I believe we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” Greg says. “I’m no stalker. I’m just a humble businessman with a little proposition I wanted to run by the two of you. That was the reason I asked your little lady here for a meeting. Now, I can understand that you’ve been slightly blindsided, but for a man who just got some last night, you’re in a much fouler mood that one might expect.”
Brice’s grip on my wrist tightens. “I don’t want to listen to any of this. Let’s go.” He begins to pull me up from my chair, but he stops mid-motion with Greg’s next announcement.
“Ten thousand for your first month. Each, mind you. So that’s twenty all told. And that’s only a trial rate. After a month we can talk about upping your salary.”
Brice is no longer yanking on my wrist. He hasn’t sat down either, but this is at least a move in the right direction. But to be completely honest, Brice isn’t the only one with a slack jaw at this announcement. I was half expecting this man to blackmail us. For his offer of a business opportunity to be a sham. At the very least I never imagined a deal even half as nice as this.
“All you have to do,” Greg continues now that he has our attention, “is repeat performances of last night. I mean, obviously, not the same thing every time. We’re going to need some variety out of you two, but of a similar vein. We’re going to try out a few different angles, but we’re mostly going to stick with the ‘friends falling for each other’ theme you guys had going on. Which, by the way, I must say was a masterpiece to behold. I mean, what a way to scoop up some donations from regulars who might be getting tired of the whole thing. I applaud the two of you for coming up with such a brilliant scheme.”
“It wasn’t a scheme,” Brice says, his teeth practically grinding together. “We really are best friends.”
“Still just friends?” Greg asks. He looks from Brice to me. I stop myself from biting my lips. I’m still not sure of Brice’s true feelings about what happened last night or where he wants to go from here. Maybe it was all just weird for him after the fact, and he just wants to go back to the way things were. If he does want a relationship, I’d love to try. But I’m not ruining the one good thing going for me in life by pushing him anywhere he doesn’t want to go.
“Best friends,” Brice corrects him. My heart drops into my empty stomach. I clutch at the hem of my shirt under the table, desperate for anything to hold onto as it feels like an amazing future has just slipped out of my grip.
“Well, that’s even better,” Greg says. “No silly emotions to get in the way. Now, before I ask if you’re both interested, let me lay out a few ground rules. I’d rather scare you away now than waste either of our time. Sit down, sit down.” He motions to Brice who takes a tentative seat beside me. Then Greg slides menus over towards us. “Order whatever you like. I’d recommend the brunch. After the night you two had, you need the calories.”
The waitress brings us cups of water after we order. While we wait for the food, Greg explains the details.
“As I said before, it would only be one month, initially at least. But I’m not going to lie to you. They’re going to be long days. Sure, lots of videos, but also photo shoots. We’re going to try a few different scenarios that I’ve already got cooked up, but mostly were going to play off of the best friends angle. Try to make that a new category, with you two as our headliners. ‘Best friends with benefits’,” he says, holding up his hands as if outlining some imaginary marquee. “Of course, this is going to be physically exhausting. There will be chafing and other unpleasant effects you’ve never considered. But there will be pleasure too, when you can manage to forget about the cameras, that is.
“Speaking of pleasure, I’ve only outlined the negatives. There are some positives too. First, like I said, the money. Ten grand each. We’ll also provide you with meals. You’ll get a free health screening before we start filming too. It’s mandatory these days, but it’s just another little perk.”
“So what do you two say?” Greg asks, taking a large gulp of water. “Want to go into the erotic film business?”
Chapter 4
I was sure that I would have to answer first and convince Brice to go along with me. But the past twenty-four hours only bring with it surprise after surprise.
“I’m in,” Brice says far too easily. As soon as the words are out of his mouth he takes a huge bite of a piece of the French toast that has just arrived.
“Are you sure?” I ask him. “I mean, I’ve been doing cam work for a while, but this is all new to you.”
“Like you said before,” he says through his full mouth. “We could both use the money. That’s why we agreed to sleep together last night, right? Money.”
Brice is strangely detached from this conversation. I can’t decide if he’s hiding something or if he’s just angry with me for agreeing to this meeting. But he isn’t the type to agree to something so huge simply out of spite. There has got to be more going on here.
Greg takes a sip at his steaming coffee. “And how about the lady of the hour?”
A glance over at Brice shows that he’s absorbed in his breakfast. I’ll need to discuss this more with him later, but if he’s agreed to it, I can’t see any reason that I would turn it down. “When do we start?”
Greg slams his fist on the table, shaking the utensils and plates. A bellowing guffaw of laughter erupts from his mouth, flecks of half-chewed bacon bursting out right behind. “That’s the spirit! I only hope you can keep that energy up on the camera. First filming is this afternoon. Eat as much as you’d like though, because we have a bit of paperwork and a quick medical to get through before we can get rolling. So don’t worry about full bellies. You’ll be working off those carbs soon enough.
A suffocating silence hangs over the rest of the meal. Brice is right beside me, but he might as well be on the other side of the planet. He does not speak to me or look my direction until we’re leaving the diner.
“If you two would wait right here, I’ll pull my car up,” Greg announces before trotting away towards a parking garage. Brice scuffs the toe of his shoe against a light pole at the edge of the sidewalk. He’s avoiding me.
“What’s going on?” I ask. This is Brice. I don’t need to dance around the topic. We’ve always been straight with each other. But for once Brice isn’t answering. He’s just focusing on the light pole, keeping his kicks in a rhythm that only he knows. “Brice, talk to me.”
Kick. Kick. Kick.
“If you didn’t want to do this,” I say, “you didn’t have to go along with it. I let you answer first because I didn’t want to put any pressure on you.”
He smirks at this, but it’s all cruelty and sarcasm. “Thanks so much for not wanting to pressure me into anything. Nothing like meeting for lunch only to be hit with a sales pitch. You could have warned me what I was getting into.”
“I warned you last night. I told you this was about money. If you don’t want to keep—”
Finally Brice turns to me. He grabs my wrist. His fingers are tight, but not with anger. It’s almost like he’s desperate. “It’s not like that.”
“I mean, I want to keep doing this with you. It’s just that—” Before he can get the words out, Greg has pulled up. After two short honks, he waves from inside his Audi for us to join him.
Brice and I sit in the back as far away from each other as possible. We don’t speak for the whole ride. When we finally arrive at a very plain-looking office building just on the outskirts of the city where the suburbs start, Brice jumps out of the car as soon as we roll to a stop.
If the icy environment worries Greg, he doesn’t say so. He’s been his own entertainment this whole time. Telling stories about the worst divas he’s worked with. The number one was some girl named Sally who always insisted on making the most fake moans when she was on tape. When Greg imitated her sounds, neither of us in the backseat so much as cracked a smile. This didn’t deter Greg though. He just moved onto the next nightmare like we were already coworkers sharing our worst work stories.
If I expected people to be having sex on every available piece of furniture the moment we walk in, I’m proven immediately wrong. The only indicator as to the business conducted here is a giant painting hanging on the wall behind the receptionist. Dripping paints depict the image of a woman lying on her back, her legs open, curly, artistic renditions of hair sprouting from all around her vagina.
“Sally!” Greg practically shouts the moment we’re through the door. He winks at us before turning back to the receptionist. “Any problems with mice playing while the cat was away?”
Cammers With Benefits (FWB Series Book 1) Page 3
