Preston
Okay, so maybe I'm not quite as ready to do this as I hoped I'd be.
It's been three days since I texted Andre and asked for his help to set up a Cammy profile, and it's go time.
I've been allocated my first slot. Newbies get given the shitty times, Andre explained, which is why I got ten a.m. The best times are in the evenings, with Friday and Saturday nights being peak.
To be honest, I prefer the day. My nighttime vision is really bad, so this time slot works better for me.
What isn't working for me, and what's sending nerves crawling under my skin, is the reality of what I'm about to do. In less than ten minutes, I'm going to be naked, on camera, in front of a roomful of strangers.
A virtual room, but that doesn't make it any less scary.
I'm having doubts, worried that maybe I'm not making the right choice. Vadim's reaction wasn't exactly positive, and even though he says he's supporting me, it's likely only because I'm holding him hostage to it.
As promised, I told him I'm doing this during our nightly call yesterday since he's back in Reno. He said all the right things, but his blurry-around-the-edges face told a different story. He's not happy about me doing this at all.
Ellie's reaction was equally concerning.
He eventually got behind it, but it wasn't the usual unwavering, unconditional support he normally gives.
In his opinion, undertaking something like this while my dad is dying in a hospice isn't the best idea.
He thinks I'm too emotionally heightened and not in the right frame of mind to be making any big, potentially life-altering decisions.
Maybe he's right? I don't know.
What I am very conscious of is that I made a promise to my father to look after Mom, and I intend on doing everything I can—while I still can—to stay true to my word.
Andre: You're on in 5, man. Good luck. I'll be running the back-end for you, so all you need to do is perform.
Me: THANK YOU. I wouldn't be able to do this without you.
Andre: What are friends for? Now get yourself ready and kill it, boy!
I've showered, shaved, and even snuck in a haircut on the way home from the hospice last night. It's not the best haircut I've ever had, but it's a better look than tying my hair back into a rubberband ponytail.
I think I look okay. Now, I just hope that random guys on the internet think the same and are willing to pay me money for it.
Ten o'clock strikes, and I click the giant start button on my laptop screen to officially kick off my very first cam session.
Andre explained the way it works is that prior to my hour starting, my profile is shown to all potential visitors who are in a virtual waiting room.
That way, when my allotted time begins, I'll either have an audience already waiting for me, or, if someone makes a request, I'll be able to choose to either accept or deny it.
If I accept it, I go into a private room just with them. If I reject it, I proceed to my public room.
There's a notification informing me of a request.
I text Andre.
Me: Hey. I have a pending request. What do I do?
Andre: That's awesome. Clients love fresh meat. Open it, and it will tell you how much they're offering for a private session with you and for how long. They can choose either 15 minutes, 30 minutes, or the full hour.
Andre: You can also click on their profile to get some info about them before you make your mind up.
Me: OK. I'll do that. Hang on.
With my screen enlarged as big as it can get while remaining usable, I click on the request. I shake my head in disbelief at the figure I'm met with.
Me: This guy must have made a mistake when he typed in his offer.
Andre: How much is it?
I count the zeros, tapping them out on the screen with my fingertip as I go. One, two, three, four, five. Decimal point. Six, seven.
I do it again to make sure I'm right.
This is absolutely crazy.
Me: $100,000
Andre: Fucking hell. Are you serious?!?!
Me: Yep.
Andre: Who is he? Click on his profile.
Andre: I'm going to have a look as well, if that's okay?
Me: By all means. This can't be real. It has to be a mistake. I need your help.
I click into the profile, and it's blank. An egg for an avatar. No info in the bio. None of the interests sections filled out. The only piece of identifiable information is his username, which is compulsory.
Mr. VIP
Me: Have you logged in yet?
Andre: I have. He seems to be a new user. His profile was created less than an hour ago.
Me: I knew it. Newbie mistake. No way he meant to type in that much money.
Andre: I wouldn't be so sure. Every amount over 10K gets manually vetted and requires a 50% deposit before being approved. Even if this guy flakes on the rest, he's already put up 50K.
I'm gobsmacked.
Whatever the final amount is, whether it's fifty K or a hundred thousand, it's more than what I was hoping to earn in a year, not in an hour.
Me: What do I do?
Andre: You hit accept, dummy!
Andre: But remember, YOU'RE in control. Even though he's paid a large amount of money (the most I've ever seen on here, btw), you technically only owe him a strip show and at most, a handjob. And if he gets freaky or weird, you're 1000% within your rights to call it off.
Me: OK. Thanks! I'll accept it now.
Andre: Atta boy. You owe me a fancy lunch when you get back to Reno.
Me: Deal!
I drop the phone onto my bed, and with trembling fingers, accept the offer.
Once I do, a timer counting down from thirty fills the screen. I jump onto the bed and lie down, leaning against the headboard in what I hope is a pose worthy of a hundred thousand dollars.
21
20
19
"Come on, come on…"
I go to check my reflection in the small square in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen, but it's way too small for me to make out any details.
13
12
11
"Ten seconds, come on, come on…"
I remind myself to breathe as the last few seconds tick by. I also throw in a quick one to the big guy upstairs, praying I'm not about to be paired up with some toothless psycho.
4
3
2
1
The screen fades to black for an instant before filling with the face of Mr. VIP.
He's not toothless.
Although he may be a psycho. Jury's still out on that one.
It's…
It's…
It's Vadim.