Chapter Text
Samira throws her bag down with a groan as she kicks off her shoes. She wants nothing more than to shower, but her stomach aches with how hungry she is. She takes out her claw clip and runs her hands through her hair, alleviating some of the tension from her scalp. She flicks on her kitchen light and rummages through her freezer for a frozen lasagna she bought earlier in the week. She finds what she's looking for hidden behind a bag of frozen french fries and she almost cries from how relieved she is. Samira knows she could have, and should have, eaten at the event she was working for but she was too busy doing her job to remember to. She places the single serving sized dish in the microwave and pushes the settings recommended on the box.
She loves being a photographer, but after days like today she wished she had a more predictable career. She spent the day shooting for a wedding and instead of leaving at ten like promised, she had to stay until midnight. She knew she could say no, but she wanted the extra money. It didn't help that weddings brought upon an unwelcome feeling of loneliness she'd rather not focus on. Samira wasn't sure where she stood on marriage, she honestly didn't care for it, but seeing weddings did make her wonder— maybe even hope. The beeping of the microwave pulls her out of her thoughts and she's thankful for the distraction.
The microwave beeps again as she grabs a plate from the cabinet. "Yeah, yeah, be quiet," she mutters as she opens the appliance and lets the steam pour out. She grabs a rag she had thrown on the counter that morning and places the plastic tray atop of the plate. The last thing she wants is to burn her hands over something so silly. Samira pours herself a glass of water and grabs her dinner before making her way into the living room.
As she walks into the room she sets her dishes down in favor of the remote. She takes a seat on her deep gray couch and relaxes into the cushions, letting go of some of the tension that formed from standing and walking all day. She pulls a knee up to her chest, grimacing at the uncomfortable feeling of her jeans, and opens Netflix. She doesn't care to actually browse, just puts on the first movie she finds, which just has to be some rom-com. She's never even really cared about romance, yet here the universe was throwing it all in her face.
The idea of a relationship is not something she wants and dating apps are a definite no go. Despite these thoughts, she still wants someone, some odd gray area situation. A person who could help take the edge off and keep her focus on something else. She lets out a soft laugh as she realizes she's basically hoping for a friends with benefits situation. She doesn't have many friends, much less friends she would want to have benefits with. Her friends were great, amazing really, but she never thought of them as more than that.
Samira shakes her head and leans over to grab her food. She takes the first bite of food into her mouth and winces as her taste buds immediately get burnt off. "What the fuck!" She yelps as she sets the tray back down and downs half of her water.
Samira takes a couple seconds, pushes past the pain, and eats her dinner in a record time of fifteen minutes. She hadn't eaten anything else that day besides a breakfast sandwich and satiating her need was much more important than taste buds that would grow back.
She shuts off her TV, not caring that the main characters had just shared their first kiss, and stalks off to her bathroom. She stares at herself in the mirror, sighing at her now smudged makeup and tired eyes. She shakes her head and closes her eyes, tightening her grip on the cool porcelain of the sink. "Everything is fine, everything is fine," she whispers as she takes steadying breaths, in for five seconds, hold for three seconds, out for five seconds. Once Samira gathers her bearings, she starts filling her bath with scalding water, deciding a bath would do her better than a shower. As the bath fills, she goes to her room to find some pajamas, deciding on a faded college shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
The steam that envelops her when she re-enters the bathroom is a welcome reprieve from the cold that's a product of her nerves. She doesn't understand why she's so nervous, there's truly nothing going on, but there's always this edge to her that she can't quite shake. She shakes her head, trying her best to clear it, and gets undressed. She pours some lavender Epsom salt into the bath and sinks into the humid water with a sigh, letting relaxation take over her.
Samira startles awake, now lukewarm water spilling outside the tub. She holds onto the porcelain as she gasps for air, feeling out of breath at the sudden awakening. She doesn't even remember falling asleep, she splashes water on her face as she calms her racing heart. Her skin is now wrinkled and the bath feels more uncomfortable than relaxing. She stands up with slightly shaky limbs and grabs her towel, making quick movements to dry herself off. She pulls on her pajamas and then brushes her teeth and washes her face. She had debated skipping her routine, but she knew she would regret it in the morning.
Her reflection this time is better, softer, a relaxed smile on her bare face. She runs her hands through her hair and walks over to her room. The space is dark, save for the lamp she had turned on earlier. She doesn't bother to turn it off as the dark terrifies her. She hates the patterns that form in the shadows, especially this late at night.
The floorboards creak as Samira makes her way to her nightstand to grab her phone. It was dead by the time she got home, and she had put it to charge before her bath. There are a few texts from Trinity and Victoria but she decides to leave them for the morning. It's almost two, way later than she thought and she can't be bothered to hold a conversation. She shuts off her phone and let's out a sigh as she gets under her covers.
Something hard presses into her arm and she smiles at the realization that it's her laptop. She pulls it out from under the mess of sheets and makes quick work of opening it. She isn't exactly sure what she's doing but then she remembers a conversation she overheard a few days ago. It was something about cam-sites and audios and things of that nature.
Samira had never really cared for that stuff. Sure, she had some of her own favorite audios but she rarely listened to them nowadays, too exhausted to focus on anything else whenever she got into bed. She's never been brave enough to look at cam-sites either, always worrying that ads for them were some scam or that her requests would be met with a laugh. It's not like she had any crazy requests that she would want to start off with, it was quite the opposite actually. She wanted to start off with something soft, some sort of low stakes fantasy. She laughs as she thinks about it now, resting her head in her hands as a feeling of embarrassment washes over her.
The cursor blinks in the search bar as she debates whether to type or to just shut the device and go to bed. Curiosity wins over exhaustion and before she knows it she's typing in a familiar site that specializes in sapphic content. She takes a deep breath as she clicks on the cam category, her face immediately flushing with heat at the sight of the various thumbnails. She doesn't want to do anything public, she knows there are some people who host private rooms and she's hoping to find someone who can provide that. She scrolls for a few minutes, trying to find someone who suits her needs and freezes when she sees her.
The woman is beautiful, sitting fully clothed in front of the camera smoking a cigarette, a flirtatious smile on her face. She has deep brown skin, arms littered in tattoos, and locs that sat atop her head in a bun. "Nico Gray, 32, switch." is all it says under the thumbnail, not as descriptive as some of the other people she has seen, but she likes that. She clicks on her username, "grayscalenico"—cool photography pun, Samira thinks to herself—and reads the payment information on her page.
She learns that a basic public stream is $10 to enter and other costs depends on the type of message and request. What piques her interest is the private meeting options. There are two options, one that is safe for work and just chatting, and the not safe for work option beside it. There's a fee to book a meet, and she already knows there's a rate per minute. She takes a deep breath and clicks on the safe for work option, selects to call next Friday, puts in her card information, and shuts the screen right after the $100 dollars goes through.
"What the fuck did I just do?" She groans, falling back into her pillows, her hands covering her flushed face as she thinks about what she'll be doing next week.