Love Online

by Ward, Penelope

  Then, boy, would she give it to me.

  CHAPTER THREE

  *

  RYDER

  I told myself I wasn’t going to go to Montana Lane’s page again, but that was easier said than done. I’d find myself alone at night and would inevitably click over “just to see what she was doing.” Virtually hanging out with her had become a familiar and comforting experience. I’d asked her to sing for me once or twice, but mostly I just watched her as a quiet spectator.

  She’d never done more than show her breasts on camera during the public chats. But she’d disappear for chunks of time, and I always wondered what was happening during those private shows.

  I’d visited her page five nights in a row. But this night was different. For the first time, I decided to take a chance on something.

  I didn’t even know what I was looking for, just that I wanted her to myself for a bit.

  I threw down enough tokens and requested a private chat. Sweat permeated my forehead. You’re being stupid, I thought to myself, unable to believe I was actually nervous about interacting with her one-on-one.

  She said goodbye to the audience and disappeared for a few seconds. Then I was granted access to the private chat room before she appeared on the screen again.

  Montana waved. “Hey, ScreenGod. How are you? I thought you’d never ask.”

  I typed.

  ScreenGod90: Hey. How does this work exactly?

  “Well, you know you can talk to me in this room, or even activate your camera if you want me to see you. But you certainly don’t have to show your face. Just turn your mic on so I can hear you. That way we can talk, and you don’t have to type anymore. That’s one of the benefits of the private room. If you prefer not to speak, you can keep typing, too. That’s fine.”

  I hadn’t realized I would actually be able to talk to her, or that I had the option to show her what I looked like. Fuck. That definitely wasn’t going to be happening. I needed to keep myself in check. Showing her my face was risky. She couldn’t find out who I was. The whole reason I was attracted to this scenario was the anonymity.

  But letting her hear my voice was harmless. I found the button to activate my mic and clicked on it.

  “Can you hear me?” I said.

  She smiled. “Yes. Oh my God, yes. Hi.” Montana seemed thoroughly amused.

  “Hi.” I grinned. “Okay…cool. I obviously haven’t done this before.”

  “Your voice is much deeper than I imagined, ScreenGod. Not what I was expecting.”

  Hold up.

  What the fuck?

  “What were you expecting?” I asked, deepening my voice even more.

  “For some reason, I thought you were going to be this shy, soft-spoken man. Your voice is nice and deep. You have a really nice voice.”

  Great. She thought I was gonna sound like a girl. Nice work, Ryder.

  “Thank you. So do you. I mean, not deep. But a nice voice.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  “Especially when you sing. Obviously you already know I love your voice,” I said.

  She adjusted her legs to sit with them crisscrossed, settling into the bed.

  She seemed comfortable with me. “Yeah. I’m still baffled that all you want to do is listen to me sing. I assume you wanted this private time for other reasons, though. What would you like me to do for you?”

  Umm…fuck. Was I that naïve? She’d assumed I called her into this chat room for some virtual sexual favors. Admittedly, I would have loved to experience something like that with her right now—I was horny as fuck—but I couldn’t ask her to do anything. It just felt scummy.

  “I just wanted to talk to you, actually.” Technically, that was the truth.

  Her eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Most people don’t call me in here just to talk.”

  “Well, I’m not most people.”

  “I already figured that out in the short time I’ve known you, ScreenGod. You’re definitely not like most of the guys who come to my page.”

  I looked over at the clock. “How much time do we have?”

  “Twenty minutes.” She glanced down to check her phone. “Well, fifteen now.”

  “Then what?”

  “Well, typically, you can tip again if you want to extend the time, or I go back to the public chat.”

  “Okay.”

  Montana tilted her head and stared at me through the screen. “So, what did you want to talk about?” Even though she couldn’t see me, it felt like she could.

  “I’m kind of freezing up right now, to be honest. That doesn’t usually happen to me.”

  “It’s okay.” She smiled. “There are no rules. You don’t have to say anything compelling.”

  “I guess I just wanted you all to myself for a little bit, wanted your attention…or something. I think you’re amazing. You fascinate me.”

  She looked genuinely perplexed by that statement. “Why?”

  “I’m not referring to your looks. I’m talking about everything else.”

  “You’re giving me a complex, ScreenGod.”

  “What?” That certainly wasn’t my intention. “Why?”

  “Compared to everyone else, you don’t seem very interested in me physically.”

  That was laughable. “Are you kidding?”

  “Well, you haven’t once asked me to take my shirt off or anything. Either you find me unappealing, or you might be a halfway decent guy. Still trying to figure it out.” She winked.

  “Believe me, my thoughts when it comes to you are not entirely pure. It’s just that…what attracted me to you initially wasn’t just your looks. It was that you seemed different. Your violin preview photo was actually what sparked my curiosity in the first place.”

  She bent her head back. “Ah, I probably scare more people off with that than lure them in, yeah? Not sure why I chose it. I thought maybe it set me apart from the rest of the girls, but I bet it deters some people, too.” She cackled. “Hey, here’s a question. What do I have in common with my violin?”

  “Uh…I don’t know. What?”

  “Our G-strings.” She laughed, and her boobs bounced. I swear that was therapeutic for me.

  “Nice.” I chuckled. “Anyway, I think the violin thing is awesome. I was all about checking out the naked philharmonic. Where did you learn to play?”

  She took a deep breath in. “My mother was a music teacher. She played a few instruments and taught me the violin.”

  “Ah. Interesting. Makes sense now. Is that the only instrument you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does your mother know you do this for a living? And that you’re so creatively incorporating music into it?”

  Her expression darkened. She paused then said, “No. She’s gone. And she’d roll over in her grave if she knew about this.”

  Well, okay. This conversation just took a depressing turn. “Oh. Um…I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. She died when I was twenty.”

  That definitely had an effect on me.

  “My mother…she’s dead, too,” I told her. “She died a few years ago. So…”

  “I’m sorry.” We just stared at our screens, bonding in our common losses for a bit before she asked, “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “So, you were what? Twenty-five when she died? That’s too young to lose your mom—like me. I can relate.”

  “How old are you?” I asked her.

  “Twenty-four.”

  I hadn’t invited her into this room to talk about heavy stuff. I wasn’t sure if I could handle it right now. A change of subject was definitely needed.

  “So, what’s with all the props behind you? It’s like a circus up in there. I haven’t seen you use even half of them.”

  “It’s like a cross between the circus and Hoarders, right?” She laughed. “It is crazy. They’re all things people have requested over time. You never know when you�
��re gonna need something. The only things that get used consistently are the dildos, though.”

  “Well, yeah, you never know when you’re gonna need a feather boa or gigantic glasses in a pinch.”

  “Right?” She cracked up. “I suppose I should probably declutter. I’ve accumulated a lot.”

  “How long have you been doing this—the camming?”

  “About a year and a half.”

  I settled into the bed, feeling more at ease by the second. “Do you remember your first night?”

  She blew out a breath and laughed. “Oh my God. Yeah. I was so nervous. I kept checking the lighting, changing my clothes…thinking all that stuff mattered. But once I was live, I realized pretty quickly that no one gives a shit about those little details.”

  “So, you just…went on and winged it?”

  She smiled. “Well, first I had a drink. A strong one.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “I remember looking at the room count, waiting for it to go up—it was really slow, at first. There were very few viewers. I almost just hung things up before it even started. I mean, there’s so much competition out there. I wasn’t sure if anyone would even show up. Once things got going, though, I got broken in real fast. I’ve heard and seen it all at this point.”

  “Not all of it good, I imagine.”

  She seemed to tense up. “No. Some of the things people say…it can be brutal.”

  My blood boiled as I thought about some of the losers I’d seen in the short amount of time I’d been visiting her chat room. I was seething just thinking about it.

  “They’re so fucking disrespectful. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve wanted to virtually kill.”

  “Thank goodness the moderator usually removes those types pretty fast. The number-one rule is not to engage them. The beauty of this is that I make the rules. I don’t have to entertain anyone I don’t want to. And the end chat button is just one click away.”

  It made me happy to know she felt so in control.

  I chuckled. “If only real life were like that—if there were a magic end chat button.”

  “Exactly.” She smiled wide.

  “I work in the entertainment industry,” I said, deciding to open up a little. “It’s very cutthroat, and I’m constantly dealing with people wanting to know me because of the opportunities they think are in it for them. I expect a certain amount of brownnosing, but sometimes it would be awesome if I could just pick and choose who to interact with like that.”

  “Or just log off and disappear mid-conversation.” She laughed.

  “Yes! That would be perfect.”

  “The best is when people expect that they can sweet talk me into stripping down for them without having to pay—as if I’m not here to make a living.”

  “You do a good job of making it seem like you want to be there, though. I have to give you that.”

  “Don’t get me wrong…I don’t hate it. But I wouldn’t be doing it for free. You know?”

  “Of course. This is your job.”

  “Most of my regulars understand that. I love my regulars—like you.”

  That was strange to hear. “I guess I am a regular at this point, aren’t I?”

  “Yes. But you don’t show me your dick. Which I appreciate.”

  I snapped my fingers. “Damn. You just ruined my plans for tonight.”

  We were both laughing now.

  “Sorry about that.” She grinned.

  “Note to self: keep dick in pants.” I sighed. “Seriously? A lot of guys show you their dicks? I just assumed they were watching you.”

  “I wish that were the case, but I definitely do see my share of dicks.”

  “What do they want? Your approval?”

  “Yeah, basically.”

  “I’m gonna send you a button you can press that plays ‘That’s the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen’ over and over. That way you won’t have to say it.”

  Montana snorted. “I would love that, because that’s exactly what they want. They want me to lie to them and tell them they’re the biggest, the best.” She rubbed her eyes. “Lord.”

  “Is that the scariest part of being a cam girl? Strange guys who show you their dicks?”

  “No. Believe it or not, it isn’t. I think the scariest part is when certain guys think I owe them because they send me unsolicited gifts or pay me a lot of money. They get mad or jealous when I’m not attentive to them, and sometimes they turn hateful. This site is pretty secure, and I actually have my home state blocked for privacy reasons…but you just never know.”

  Fuck. That gave me chills. I hated the thought of someone trying to hurt her.

  “So, people who live in your state can’t see you?”

  “It’s supposed to work that way, yeah.”

  Nodding, I said, “I guess I know you’re not in California then, if I’m able to watch you.”

  She simply smiled. She wasn’t about to divulge where she lived, and I couldn’t blame her.

  We continued talking for several minutes, and I totally lost track of time.

  Montana let out a long breath. “Well, this is definitely the first time I’ve ever vented to a cam john.”

  “A what?”

  “Cam john. That’s what we call clients.”

  “Like a john who sees a prostitute?”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s where it comes from.”

  I looked down at myself. “Fuck, I’m creepier than I thought.”

  She burst into laughter again. “No, you’re not creepy at all. I don’t know how I know that about you, but I do.”

  “Well, thank you. I aspire not to be a creeper.”

  She looked over to the corner of her room and then back at me. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “Our time has been up for ten minutes. I didn’t even notice. Another first for me.”

  I really didn’t want her to leave.

  “Hang on,” I said.

  Without even having to think about it, I purchased enough tokens for another chat.

  When she noticed the sound, she said, “Are you sure? That’s a lot of money to spend in one night.”

  If she only knew money was no object for me. I would have paid any amount to keep talking to her now.

  “Yeah. I’m sure, if you’re okay with hanging out with me some more.”

  “Honestly? Yeah. I’m really enjoying talking to you. It’s different for some reason. It feels like we’re just talking. It’s not forced.”

  It was weird how comfortable I was with this girl. This was our first real one-on-one interaction, but it felt like we’d done this many times, like I’d known her forever, maybe even in a different lifetime.

  “I know what you mean,” I said. “I could talk to you all night. I don’t normally feel that way around women.”

  “Are you shy?”

  “No. I’m not an introvert or anything, and I should clarify. I don’t have a problem getting women—just the opposite. I just can’t connect with the majority of them.”

  “Interesting.” Montana seemed to be pondering my words. “Do you visit any other rooms on the site?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Any other girls?”

  “Oh. No. You’re actually my first.”

  She seemed shocked. “Are you kidding?”

  “No. I didn’t think this was my thing. And it really isn’t. But you’re different. Basically, you had me with “Blue Skies.”

  “That’s right. You seemed really interested in that song. You asked me why I’d chosen it. Does it mean something to you?”

  My heart felt heavy all of a sudden. “My mother used to sing it to me, actually.”

  She nodded. “That’s why you asked me about it.”

  “Yeah. It means a lot to me, and I couldn’t believe you’d chosen it. Truthfully, if you hadn’t been singing it, I might have just passed right by you. But now that I’ve gotten to know you, that seems pretty hard to imagine.�
��

  “I love the Frank Sinatra version,” she said.

  “Willie Nelson, you mean?”

  “Well, he sang one, too. There are many versions of the song.”

  I felt dumb for correcting her. Of course, there were different versions. That song was old as hell. That’s why I was so surprised she’d chosen it. But Montana seemed to have an old soul.

  One thing was clear to me. She was way more relaxed around me than she seemed in front of the larger audience. I wondered if she was feeling half of what I was right now. It was a feeling I couldn’t quite identify. But it felt damn good, whatever it was.

  Montana curled into her mattress. “Well, I’d say maybe we were meant to meet, ScreenGod.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  *

  RYDER

  Her real name was Eden.

  I’d always suspected the name Montana Lane was as fake as ScreenGod.

  For three weeks we’d been chatting in a private room for at least an hour every night. I never asked her to do anything more than talk to me.

  I still hadn’t turned the camera on myself, either, so Eden continued to have no idea what I looked like. I preferred to keep things that way for the time being. Was I ever gonna show her my face? Not sure. I was tempted to, so she’d know I wasn’t a freak. But that would take things to a different level for me, one I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

  I would’ve booked her for the entire night every night if she would have let me. In fact, I tried. But she didn’t think it was a good idea to disappear entirely from her public audience. She’d lose customers that way, and I understood that; I couldn’t blame her. But damn if I didn’t look forward to our time together after a long day.

  Even though we opened up to each other about life and our days, there was a limit to what we shared. I still didn’t know where she lived or any personal details like her last name. We’d agreed to keep it that way for the time being.

  She knew my name was Ryder. She knew my favorite food was pizza and my favorite band was Pink Floyd. She knew a lot of things about me, but she didn’t know what I looked like, where I worked, or my last name. Yet at the same time, it didn’t feel like that lack of information mattered. I was starting to feel like we knew each other intimately. And that made me think—who we are in this world has nothing to do with our names, our jobs, our social status, or all the labels we place on one another. It was possible to know someone without any of those things.