Chapter Text
“Shit. Shit shit shit, oh god.”
Cosima’s feet gently paced around the room as she tried to get everything ready, leaving it all until the last minute like she always did. It was now less than fifteen minutes before she was supposed to go live and nothing was in place. One of her toys had been hastily plugged in to charge upon realising it was dead, she’d thrown her laptop open ready to load and log in, and she’d rummaged through her underwear drawer at the last minute to pick out something both appealing and clean (she’d totally do that pile laundry later).
Making the jump into this line of work had simultaneously been an easy and difficult decision for Cosima. Easy because she knew she couldn’t keep relying on her parents to help her fund college, but any regular job wouldn’t accommodate to the hours she needed to be in the lab. Plus, Cosima had never been very shy about sex. She’d always been more on the open end of the spectrum.
The thing that put her off was the clientele. Not even just the fact that they were all men, but she’d heard some horror stories from friends who had engaged with this type of work in the past. However, it only took her being $100 short on rent three days before it was due for her attitude to change. Either she’d learn how to handle herself and them pretty quickly or lose her place to live. Sink or swim. Seemed like an easy decision at the time when her only other option was homelessness.
Since then, she’d managed to build up a substantial little following and a few loyal regulars who often made appearances. They could be a little off-putting or cross some lines at times, but she would never call them out on that unless she had to. She’d learnt to keep them sweet, that way they’d keep coming back for more.
Grabbing the red and black silk robe hung up on the back of her door, she slid her arms in and tied it closed around her waist before sinking down onto the bed, kneeling before her laptop which had finally loaded up. She pulled up the web page and logged in, mindful of the fact she only had a couple of minutes until she was meant to be on.
“Oh, fuck.” She grumbled, grabbing the toy that had been charging along with a random assortment of other things from her beside table drawer, laying them on the bed out of frame.
She got herself set up and ready on her laptop, sharing the link to her Twitter where she had previously told her followers she’d be going live. She knelt back on the bed after a moment, seeing the viewer count begin to go up.
“Hey,” she hummed to the camera with that charming smile she always brought out while she was working, seeing a few messages begin to filter in through the website’s chatbox. “How’re you guys doing today?”
She didn’t care, of course, but she had to butter them up before they’d give her anything. They didn’t need to be in on the façade. In fact, they probably had too many other things on their mind to think about whether she actually cared or not.
“I’m doing good,” she replied after a couple of people had asked how she was in the chatbox. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you guys.” If nothing else were to come out of this experience, Cosima could say it made her into a damn good liar.
She made idle but flirty small talk as people continued to filter into her show and a few small tips began to come in. She continued the conversation for a few more minutes, trying to ignore the overly gross and blunt messages that made themselves apparent in the chatbox. That was always the worst part, the fact she couldn’t retaliate. If she did, she’d lose business.
About ten minutes passed before people began encouraging her to begin, causing her to smirk when she saw people eager. She knew how to work an audience, she just needed to get them hooked first.
“Well, maybe when we get a couple more people in and a few more tips we can get started.” She hummed while tugging at the fabric covering her body, revealing her shoulder and part of the bra she had picked out for tonight’s show.
The mostly one-way conversation continued as a little more money began to come forward. Nothing crazy, mostly $1 tips and a couple of $5’s, but the good money usually came later. Usually.
A bell rang. The bell that usually signalled a big tip, something she hadn't been expecting yet. Glancing over to the other side of the screen, her eyes caught on an extra $200 from an anonymous sender.
It shocked her, but she couldn’t show it. You’d be surprised how many people thought they could buy her affections and submission on this site. She couldn’t afford to give them that leverage.
“Oh wow,” she murmured, her tone slightly nonchalant but not so much that she seemed ungrateful. After all, that would pay for her groceries for a month. “Someone’s eager. Thank you, sweetheart.” She told the camera, attempting to hide her cringe at the pet name.
“Well,” Cosima huffed while leaning back away from the laptop and untying her robe. She slipped it off in one movement and tossed it aside out of view. “Shall we get started?”
***
Just shy of two hours later, she was done.
Now dressed in only the robe she had disposed of earlier, she closed her laptop and placed it aside until next time.
She’d had a good night. She made what she needed, and then some, and the viewers kept to their boundaries, which she wasn’t always fortunate enough to get.
She enjoyed her job. She really did and she knew there weren’t many situations where she’d be fortunate enough to truthfully say that, but she couldn’t deny that the people were a little exhausting to deal with sometimes. Not to mention the stigma around her line of work.
Cosima laid back against the headrest, eyeing up the toys at the end of her bed. She shrugged it off, she’d clean them later.
She grabbed her phone from the bedside table, answering a couple of texts that she’d missed before opening twitter and beginning to casually scroll through in an attempt to unwind.
After a few moments, she noticed a couple of messages in her inbox. She brushed it off, they weren’t normally anything other than people trying to hit on her or get something for free.
Tapping the icon, she glanced over the words and found the usual bullshit, but one managed to catch her attention.
The picture, the name or username didn't really give away much away about the profile. The message didn’t reveal much more about the person behind the screen either, but it wasn’t one she was upset to see.
Do you take bookings for private shows? D x