3. Mia
Chapter three
Mia
M ia's green eyes flicked to the screen, as a new private chat request popped up. The username read "Fred" – another alias, no doubt. She got plenty of Freds, Jacks, and Johns; it seemed guys loved hiding behind those names.
Mia clicked accept.
“Hello,” typed Fred.
"Hi there," Mia typed back, bracing herself for yet another dirty request. What would it be this time? To remove her bra? Her panties? To provocatively suck her fingers for him? Eugh. "I'm Mia,” she wrote. “What can I do for you tonight?"
“I’m just hoping for a chat,” said Fred.
Mia raised an eyebrow, not used to this kind of approach. Still, she kept her guard up, fingers poised over the keyboard. "Okay. What do you want to talk about?" she typed back, her words sharp and straight to the point. She couldn't afford to let her defenses down with these clients.
"Nothing specific," Fred replied, his tone maintaining its respectful demeanor. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."
Mia blinked in surprise, her fingers hovering over the keys. This was different, unexpected. Her intrigue grew as she considered the sincerity of his words. Could he really just want to talk?
"Really?" she typed, her wariness seeping through. "No special requests?"
"Chatting can be special," Fred assured her. It took her aback. "I was just hoping to get to know you better. You seem like an interesting person."
Mia's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of anxiety and anticipation fluttering within her. She'd never had a client act like this before. It was . . . unnerving. Mia had been through a lot in her short life, and she had learned to trust no one. Especially guys who tried to act nice to her. Like the one who had bought her that perfume.
"All right," she typed cautiously, her pulse quickening. "Well, in answer to your question, I’m doing okay thanks."
“Glad to hear it,” replied Fred. There was a pause after that. Fred didn’t seem to be typing anything new. He was probably some newbie trying to pluck up the courage to ask her to masturbate for him or whatever gross thing he had come here for.
Mia took the opportunity to check for other messages. There was one from Slimeball68. Actually, his online name was SlimJim68, but Slimeball68 seemed a lot more fitting. He was always asking her to do things that were not allowed in her webcam work. Like bringing another woman—or man—in and getting it on for the camera. One time, he even asked her to bring a dog in though she had no clue what he wanted her to do with it. She shuddered at the memory.
Still no message from Fred.
She sat cross-legged on her bed, looking into her camera lens. Not for the first time, she began to wonder about all the different pairs of eyes on her right now. She could see from the statistics on her screen that there were 168 people in the chatroom right now. Who were they all? Were they people who visited the club? How many were regulars? Why had they chosen to watch her in particular?
Mia yawned. She was so tired. She was always so tired. It had gotten so bad that Chad had started giving her vitamin tablets morning and night. Without them, she felt even worse. Trouble was, she almost always forgot to take them. Life was exhausting. She worked long, long hours, just sitting or standing around in her underwear. It was simultaneously very draining and very, very boring.
She glanced around her small room. The walls were a sickly shade of pink, a color she would never have chosen herself. On the floor was a stained, thin, rug, the only thing soft in her entire room. It was basically a prison cell.
Just then, another message from Fred popped up. "Is that a copy of The Jungle Book on your nightstand?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah," she typed back, glancing over at the worn book. She didn't think anyone would actually notice it, let alone ask about it.
"Which story is your favorite?" Fred inquired, his genuine curiosity evident.
Okay. Well, that was interesting. Nobody around here had an interest in literature, but on the rare occasion she’d spoken to someone about her favorite book, they had no idea it was a collection of short stories. Most people thought it was an exact retelling of the Disney movie.
Mia hesitated, her guard still up. But something about this conversation made her feel a spark of excitement deep inside, a sense of connection she hadn't experienced in ages. She cautiously replied.
"Probably the first story," she admitted, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "Mowgli’s brothers. I like the idea of being raised by wolves.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” replied Mia sincerely. “Being taught the rules of the jungle by a kind of family.”
Fred paused again. “Family is important.”
She blinked at his message. Who was this guy? Telling her that family was important? Why wasn’t he asking her to get naked yet? Come to think of it, why wasn’t he paying her anything?
“Anyway,” she wrote, “even though The Jungle Book is my favorite book, I think my favorite story of all is in The Second Jungle Book .”
“Oh yeah?” replied Fred. “Which one? Wait. Let me guess.”
Mia frowned. Who the hell would know about the stories in that old book? Was this guy looking all this up on the internet while they were chatting?
“I think your favorite story is ‘How Fear Came,’” he wrote.
Her eyes widened. “Why?” she typed back.
“Your tiger tattoo.”
She swallowed. “My tiger tattoo?”
She braced herself for the punchline. Bet you’re a tiger between the sheets. Easy, tiger. Miaow. Look at those claws. But the punchline didn’t come. Fred didn’t say a single one of the things the guys at the club always said to her. Instead, he typed: “You have a tattoo of Shere Khan on the back of your neck. ‘How Fear Came’ tells the story of how tigers are sometimes justified in killing humans for sport—but only if the humans break the Law of the Jungle first.”
“Shit,” typed Mia. “Are you a walking encyclopedia or something?”
“Ha,” replied Fred. “Far from it. But I do like books.”
Mia smiled. She couldn’t help herself. “Me too.”
“I think Shere Khan is misunderstood,” typed Fred. “He had his reasons for hating mankind."
Mia nodded vigorously. “Totally. He was injured by humans, so he turned against them. That’s what I believe, anyway.” She bit her lip. “I love all the characters Kipling writes about though. They all have their own strengths, flaws, and motivations.”
“I agree,” wrote Fred. “And the way he describes the jungle, its creatures, and the complex ecosystem creates a living, breathing world. It feels real. You know?”
“Yeah,” she typed, her defenses slowly beginning to lower. "So, are you a fan too? Of Kipling? Or just an expert on all books?"
“Pretty much all books,” replied Fred. “But especially old ones. Ancient ones, in fact.”
“Which ones in particular?” asked Mia.
Fred named a few books she’d never heard of, but he explained each one so well it was like she was there.
As they continued to discuss literature, Mia couldn't help but feel a growing connection with Fred. It was as if he saw her as more than just a cam girl, as someone with intelligence and depth. It was a feeling she had long forgotten, and part of her yearned to hold onto it.
"Never thought I'd be having a conversation like this with a client," she typed, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration. "It's . . . kinda nice."
"It’s nice for me too," Fred agreed. "You're something special, Mia."
Mia's fingers hovered over the keys, her heart racing. No one had ever called her special before. Could Fred be different from the other clients? Or was this just another trick, a way to get under her skin?
"Thanks," she typed back, her wariness still present but slowly fading. "You're not so bad yourself, Fred."
There was a silence between them, but it was a pleasant one. Instead of waiting for a nasty comment to appear, Mia reveled in a feeling she hadn’t experienced for a long time. One of connection. Empathy. Hope.
She checked through her other private messages, noticing that someone wanted her to show her foot to the camera. She did so, and heard the electronic beep that told her he’d paid some money. She sent him a kiss emoji, inwardly shivering with disgust.
For some reason, she felt weird about the fact she was in her underwear around Fred. He’d come on here to talk to her about books, and here she was, half-undressed and wiggling her feet about for the camera.
Still, he had logged in to a webcam at Easy Gals. He had obviously come here for more than just books.
"Hey, are these chats monitored?" Fred asked suddenly, his question pulling her out of her reverie.
Mia's heart skipped a beat. Why would he ask that? Her wariness kicked into high gear as she hesitated before responding. "Yeah, they are," she admitted, her fingers trembling slightly over the keys.
"Good to know," Fred wrote, and Mia could almost hear the disappointment in his words. She bit her lip, torn between wanting to continue this unique connection with Fred and needing to protect herself from potential harm.
Just then, a beep sounded that told her that Fred had paid some money. A hundred dollars. Woah. Interesting. Nobody had ever paid her that much without asking her to take her clothes off first. It felt like a strange sort of compliment, but it also reminded her that this was a transactional relationship. Fred was here to pay her for her services. Nothing more. Nothing less.
And probably, the fact that he hadn’t asked her what he wanted from her yet meant that he was building up to asking something really creepy. Like, he was grooming her.
With a deep breath, Mia's fingers hovered over the keyboard. Her decision was made - she couldn't risk letting her guard down any further. "Gotta go. Bye," she typed firmly, her eyes narrowing as she clicked the 'End Chat' button.
The Private chat box went blank. She sighed heavily, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Why had she let herself get so caught up in conversation with Fred, a man she barely knew? She shook her head, berating herself for her momentary lapse in judgment.
"Stupid, stupid, Mia," she muttered under her breath, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Of course he wasn't different. All men were the same—only out for themselves. And no one proved that more than Chad, her so-called Daddy.
"Trust nobody but yourself," she whispered to her reflection on the computer screen, her green eyes fierce and determined. She'd learned that lesson the hard way, many times, but it seemed she still needed a reminder. As much as she wanted to believe in the possibility of genuine connection, the harsh reality of her life left no room for such fantasies.
Mia took a deep, steadying breath, willing herself to let go of the encounter with Fred. There was no point dwelling on what-ifs or might-have-beens—she had a job to do, and she couldn't afford to let her emotions distract her.
"Back to the grind," she muttered, forcing a smile onto her face as she returned to her computer and prepared herself for the next client’s request.
And as if by magic, a new private chat box popped up. This was a guy called John. Of course.
The words "Hey sexy, let me see what’s under your bra" blinked mockingly at her, and she sighed, checking the time on her computer.
"Alright, fine," she muttered under her breath, clicking the accept button on the chat request. She couldn't afford to be picky with clients, not when Chad was in control of her life.
"Sure thing, baby," she typed back, forcing a flirtatious smile onto her face as she reached behind her to unhook her bra. At least with requests like this, she knew exactly where she stood.
As Mia's fingers fumbled with the clasp, a sudden yawn escaped her lips, making her eyes water. Despite her best efforts, fatigue was creeping in, and her eyelids felt heavy as lead.
"Come on, Mia, just a while longer," she urged herself, struggling to keep her eyes open. But her body betrayed her, and before she knew it, her head lolled forward as sleep claimed her.
The client's frustrated messages went unnoticed on the screen, drowned out by the gentle sound of Mia's breathing as she finally succumbed to the exhaustion that had been dogging her for days. As she slept, she had dark dreams, as the grim web of deceit and danger surrounding her tightened its grip.