by Blaire Drake
I managed to roll my stockings on and logged into the website exactly two minutes before my show. The private room told me that my client was already waiting, and I grimaced at that thought as I moved my lamp off the nightstand and replaced it with my laptop.
Then I clicked the button to turn my camera on.
His greeting was instantaneous. Jok_46897. Every week like clockwork for his private show.
I’d almost miss him when I left for law school. Maybe.
“Hey, handsome,” I cooed into the camera, flicking my hair over my shoulder. “What is it tonight?”
I knew what his answer would be. It was the same every time.
Jok_46897: I want you to touch yourself.
I cupped my breast with my hand and ran my finger across the cup. “Tell me how,” I said, looking into the camera.
Jok_46897: Take off your bra and touch your tits.
I reached between my breasts and undid the clasp. Then I slowly pulled the garment away from my upper body. “Like this?” I asked, grasping my breasts with my hands. Slowly, I toyed with my nipples with my thumbs.
Jok_46897: Yes.
Jok_46897: You’re making me so hard already.
I smiled and leaned toward the camera. Good—he should have been getting hard already.
“What else do you want me to do, baby?” My pussy ached as I continued to play with my nipples.
Jok_46897: Let me see your panties today.
I bit my lip and gave my nipples a gentle tug as I released them. Then I got onto my hands and knees. I maneuvered myself so my ass was facing toward the camera and opened my legs slightly. When I was sure he’d gotten a good look, I rolled over onto my knees and showed him the front. Sassily, I slipped my fingers beneath the waistband of them.
Jok_46897: Take them off. Let me see your pussy.
I climbed off my bed and, making sure I was still in full view of the webcam at the top of my laptop screen, turned my back to it. My thumbs hooked in both sides of my thong, and I slowly slid them over my ass. I bent forward as the material trailed down my thighs and dropped over my knees. I stepped out them, bending forward fully, aware of the fact that my pussy was fully exposed to the camera but not caring in the slightest.
I wish I could say I was ashamed of what I did. I wasn’t. I never would be. It was simply a means to an end.
I flicked the underwear to the side and got back on my bed. My hands slid up my stomach to my breasts once more as I asked, “What next?”
Jok_46897: Lie on your back and open your legs. I want to see you play with your clit.
“My pleasure,” I purred, knowing that it would be.
He got a thrill out of watching me make myself come. The one time I’d tried to fake it because I’d felt rude, he’d told me to lie back down and not get back up until I’d come.
I grabbed my pillows, put them behind me, and lay back. It was important he could see my face—it always was. I secretly thought they got as much pleasure out of my facial expressions as they did my actually playing with myself.
I trailed my hand down between my legs and rubbed two fingers across my pussy. I was already wet, so it took hardly any time for me to lubricate my clit. I circled the sensitive spot with expert ease, and the waves of pleasure started quickly. I usually slowed myself down, but I knew that this was what he wanted, even if it only took minutes. I barely paused as his newest message appeared on my screen.
Jok_46897: Fucking hell, I’m so hard.
Jok_46897: Get your vibrator.
That was a new one. That usually came after.
I leaned over and grabbed it from my bed. Preparation was the key to this, for sure.
“This one?” I asked coyly, biting my lip once again. I turned it on, and the gentle buzzing sound filled the air.
Jok_46897: Yes. Put it in your pussy. Right in.
It was so much hotter when they talked dirty. The best was that his was yet to come.
I sat up slightly and positioned the vibrator at my opening. Gently, I pushed it inside myself, and a tiny moan escaped me as the vibrations hit my sensitive flesh. As my muscles stretched to accommodate it, heat flushed over me.
Jok_46897: Farther.
Jok_46897: You’re making me so fucking hard.
I wanted to say something super hot back, but all I could do as I moved the vibrator inside myself was moan in response and buck my hips. Soon enough, my body was moving in time with my thrusts. My hips were grinding against the movements of the buzzing toy, and I was breathing heavily, but I made sure to keep my eyes on the camera.
Jok_46897: Fuck. Look at you. Fucking that vibrator like it’s my cock.
His words, although not said, only typed, heightened my pleasure.
“Mmm, you like this?” I asked. “Ohhh. You want me to imagine this is your cock, baby?”
Jok_46897: Yes.
Jok_46897: Fuck it like you’d fuck me.
With anyone else, it was tedious. But with him…it wasn’t. If it were possible to lust after someone I’d never met and never would meet, Jok_46897 would be that guy for me.
I did as he’d asked. I moved and pumped and ground until I felt my orgasm wash over me fiercely. It was a welcome reprieve from the faked ones I usually did.
Maybe that was why he was my favorite. He cared that I enjoyed what I was doing.
By the time I sat up, the vibrator resting on a towel, he was gone and the chat was dead.
Just like always.
“There’s an opening at the bar.”
I looked over at my dark-haired friend and shook my head. “Jake…”
He shrugged and tapped a finger against the side of his bottle of Coke. “I’m just sayin’, Darce. There are worse jobs.”
The pointed look he gave me with his midnight eyes raised my hackles.
I’d understood a long time ago that he would always have a problem with me doing what I do. It was part of the reason I’d turned him down—the other part was that Griffin’s death was still too raw. But, as Jake had accepted his place in the friend zone, he’d made his mission to get me out of performing and into what he deemed an acceptable job.
We had different ideas. His job was just a little extra dollar for him. After all, he had parents who could carry, and had carried, him through college. I had parents who looked after my seven-year-old, adopted twin brothers and couldn’t do that for me. I had dreams, and I was going to reach them, even if it meant doing what I did.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” I dipped a fry into some ketchup then bit one half of it off. “Thank you for thinking of me, but no, thank you,” I said to him as politely as I could. Which actually came out as snarky as opposed to genuine.
He dropped his gaze with a tiny frown and shook his head. I knew that look. It meant I should be ready for another one of his questioning sessions.
I was right.
“I still don’t get why you do it,” he said in a low voice. “You know the risks if anyone recognizes you.”
“I know,” I said back, equally as quietly but slightly more harshly. “I’ve done this for two years, Jake. I know more than you do, funnily enough.”
Guilt flickered across his face as he lifted his eyes to mine. I felt guilty too. I shouldn’t have snapped. He was one of my best friends, after all.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, running my hand through my hair. “I just know, yeah? I live in fear of this every day, but I can’t stop. I need the money I get from this. Last night? Five hundred bucks. Standing behind a bar and being leered at by old men won’t pay me that.”
“Old men probably leer at you anyway,” he pointed out.
“True. But I don’t know for sure. I can imagine they’re all like…Liam Hemsworth or something.”
“I don’t think Liam Hemsworth needs to log into Dalton Cam Girls.”
“How do you know? You have an account.”
Jake’s cheeks flushed the tiniest amount, and he pinned me with his steely gaze. “I have it to check
up on you.”
“You log in and watch me play with my vibrators? Nice.”
“Actually, I try not to watch. Last time I did that, you were in an uncomfortable position and being fucked the hell out of.”
I raised another fry also covered in ketchup and pointed it toward him. “That’s my job.”
“If you were anyone else, I’d call you a cheap whore.”
“That and you have a crush on Bella.”
“I don’t have a crush on Bella. I’d actually crush her if we ever went that far.”
“So you like Jenna.” I paused when he didn’t respond. “Oh my God. You do.”
He still didn’t respond, so I kicked him under the table. Hard.
“Bitch,” he hissed, reaching down and rubbing his shin.
I grinned, giving absolutely no fucks at all.
“She’s hot, yeah? You’re all hot.”
My lips twisted into a side smile. “You’ve watched her show, haven’t you? Jake Haas, tell me the truth right now!”
“Once.” He smacked my foot with his. “Swear to God, Darce. Shut the fuck up, yeah?”
“I wanna know everything!”
“We have to get to class.” He gathered my tray up, even going as far to steal the fry right out of my hand. “Let’s go.”
“So tell me on the way,” I pushed him.
He had another think coming if he thought I was letting this fucker go. Not a damn chance. I waited until he’d discarded of the leftovers of our lunch and grabbed his arm. I looped my arm through his and leaned into him.
“Come on, Jakey. You can tell me.”
“Jakey?” He glanced down with one eyebrow raised. “Seriously, Darce. You’re seriously fucked in the head.”
I released him then punched him. “Tell me, asshole, or I’m gonna tell her you videoed her and jerk off in the—”
He clapped his hand over my mouth, his other cupping the back of my neck. I shrieked into his palm then promptly stuck my tongue out to lick it. It had the desired effect, because his muscular, six-foot-three frame jerked away from me as if I’d just given him rabies or something.
“All right,” he muttered. He reached down and grabbed my hand.
I giggled as he dragged me through the building and into the next, directing me to our classroom. Jake literally hauled me through the open door and up the steps to where we always sit for history.
“Sheesh, Fred Flintstone. You can stop manhandling me now.” I shook him off me and dumped my purse on the desk.
“What’s up, Haas? She still won’t go out with you?” Louis Peters asked from the doorway.
Jake started forward, but my arm shot out to stop him.
“What’s up, Peters?” I asked, tilting my head to the side and pouting. “Still being a dick to make up for the one you don’t have?”
Louis’s steps faltered as he walked across the room, and the sound of several barks of laughter and snorts rang out from our classmates already in the room. Louis—smartly—declined not to respond to me, instead settling for a look that could kill.
Jake dropped into his seat and glanced at me. “One of these days, you’re gonna let me punch that guy.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t the time or the place. You’ll get your chance, my friend.” I patted his thigh as I took my seat. “Now, tell me about Jenna.”
He snapped his head up, resignation slowly creeping on his face. I guessed he’d finally figured out that I wasn’t gonna give up on this.
He rubbed his hand across his mouth and looked at me. “I clicked on her once, yeah? I was checking in to make sure yours didn’t have any assholes, and I saw that she was on. I was…interested.”
“I bet you were.”
“Darce.”
“Jake.”
“Leave it now, yeah?”
I pursed my lips, but at that exact moment, Professor Keaton walked into the room, his laptop and books tucked under his arm. Jake was lucky. When Keaton walked in, silence reigned whether it was the start of the class or not.
He was the hardest professor I’d ever known. You only ever spoke if you were spoken to. His grading process was brutal. His tests almost impossible. I somehow wondered how I was still maintaining the GPA I needed for law school, but that paled in comparison to the fight I knew I’d have to get my letter of recommendation from him.
It was exactly why I’d left him until last.
It didn’t help that Jenna and Bella were totally right with their crush. The man was fucking gorgeous. I sometimes wondered, in the middle of class, when I was procrastinating on my work, if Zeus had shit him out and left him here.
He had the darkest hair that always shone when the light caught it. His shapely jaw was always lined with a thick coating of stubble that looked well-trimmed, and the lips that were almost always turned down in a look of helpless disdain at his students’ incompetence were plump and pink. Perfect kissing lips, really.
It was his eyes though. They were the most electrifying blue. They were so bright that it sometimes felt as though when he looked at you, he was simply tearing through you with his gaze. He could put such terrifying power behind them that even the most fleeting of glances were intimidating.
He scared the shit out of me, but I couldn’t deny how goddamn handsome he was. No matter how much I wanted to. He was by far my least favorite professor—and I think he knew it.
The last few students dragged themselves in through the door. Professor Keaton slammed the door shut after the final one entered, making her jump. His bright eyes scanned the room, and maybe I was imagining it, but I swore his gaze lingered on me for a second longer than it should have.
Maybe he knew what I was going to ask him after class. Maybe he was thinking of all the ways he could just say no.
I bet he’d fucking love that, the bastard.
God. I kind of really hated him.
“Good afternoon,” he said sharply. The deep tone of his voice rumbled through the room. “Are you all prepared for today’s test?”
The low murmur of affirmation echoed.
“Good. You know the rules. I trust I don’t have to tell you that at this point.” He grabbed a stack of sheets off his desk and walked toward the front row. “Take one at the end and pass the rest along. Your test is a mini essay. One thousand words minimum. Wi-Fi has been disabled until the final five minutes of the class, so Google is definitely not your friend today.”
That was that as he counted the sheets with the question on them and handed them out. I kept my head down as he handed them to the girl sitting next to Jake. I had to nail this test. I knew exactly what he’d say: I and the other handful of law undergrads in the room would have to pass with flying colors before he’d so much as consider giving us our letters.
Fuck. This had just gotten a shit-ton harder.
I was still gonna try though. I didn’t have much choice left. I was rapidly running out of time, and I was determined to eek the letter out of this coldhearted bastard if it was the last thing I did.
I would literally die trying.
I hadn’t worked this hard and made myself into a webcam slut for him to say no.
“Time starts…now. You have ninety minutes.” Professor Keaton took his seat and opened his laptop with those words.
Fuck.
I rubbed at my forehead and started my laptop. I grabbed the sheet and read the question over. I could do this. No problem. I’d been reading up on it just two days ago. It was fresh enough in my mind that I’d be able to get the one thousand words in no problem.
Luckily for me, I could type as fast as the Road Runner runs. It was like my fingers were on crack when I got going.
I started the second my Office app opened. I had no time for screwing around. Not in class, so I typed furiously. The minutes wore on as I focused on the screen in front of me, on answering the question. I was determined to nail this essay. I had no other choice.
I wrote until my wrists seized up from the strain of my quic
k typing. Then, after a quick massage, I wrote the final paragraph and hit save for the final time. I glanced up at the clock. I barely had time to send it to Keaton before the time ran out. It was no wonder, either. I’d written more than the designated word count—not that I was at all surprised.
Scholar by day, slut by night.
What could I say? I was an enigma.
“Did you do it?” Jake whispered, leaning over.
“Yes,” I hissed back as quietly as I could. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to read what I was writing.”
His groan was almost silent, but I knew that it had happened because I knew the look on his face. That dejected, hopeless fuck-it-all kind of look.
“I’m so failing,” he said. “The guy’s a fuckin’ shark.”
I shrugged a shoulder. Jake had a point—Keaton was the harshest grader I’d ever come across, but I’d never given him any reason to give me anything less than an A-minus, and I wasn’t about to, either.
Yeah. I had been handed a good bunch of determination the day I’d been born.
Professor Keaton’s voice rang out through the room. “Miss Hamilton and Mr. Haas, please see me before you leave.”
Jake groaned again.
“What was that, Mr. Haas? An agreement?”
“Yes, sir,” Jake replied through gritted teeth.
“Nice one, asshole,” I muttered, jerking my foot out and kicking him.
“Pleased try to refrain from bodily harm in my classroom, Miss Hamilton,” Professor Keaton barked. “I trust you both finished your essays?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied almost simultaneously with Jake.
God, there was no correlation between looks and manners with this man. He was full-steam-ahead asshole.
“And the rest of you?” he asked, looking around.
A chorus of yeses echoed through the room.
He nodded, resolute. “Make sure I have them within five minutes. As soon as I do, you’re welcome to leave.” His eyes traveled back to me and Jake and hovered on me. “Except the two of you.”
