Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Nixie
“Coach said I would CRUSH it at the exhibition. Mom, didn’t you hear him say it?” Asher gushes, his eyes alight with excitement.
He’s the bright spot in our dim apartment. The small, cramped living space contains a couch, an oversized chair, and this tiny table tucked away in the corner, with three mismatched chairs placed haphazardly around it. It’s comfortable, just not the most aesthetically pleasing.
But what the small apartment lacks in size, it makes up for in safety and bedrooms. The area is top tier, and there are three bedrooms, which allows Asher to have his very own space while we share the rent with my best friend, Cassia—a law student by day, an exotic dancer by night, and my own personal superhero.
“I did!” After placing his dinner on the table, I rack my brain for a safer topic, knowing the inevitable question coming next. “Have you finished all your homework?”
“Moooooom, forget about that boring stuff. Did you hear what I’m saying? He thinks I could be the best!”
Asher’s red hair sticks up at all angles, a direct result of getting sweaty at hockey practice. As I walk around the table, I smooth it down lovingly. Even damp, it’s still soft, and I can’t stifle my laugh as it pops right back into place.
“Ash, your academic studies are more important than sports, even if it doesn’t feel that way.” I slip into my seat across from him, sitting gingerly to keep the broken chair leg from buckling.
He grunts, shoveling food into his mouth at lightning speed, pausing only to grab a gulp or two of water.
“Whoa, Ash, starving much?” Cassia emerges from her bedroom, her long blonde hair shining as she twists it into the topknot she prefers for dancing.
“Yeah, Auntie C, practice was tough today. And Mom’s cooking is so good,” he mumbles around a mouthful of spaghetti. Cassia props her hip on the counter, smiling softly at his enthusiasm.
“Your mom makes a mean spaghetti and meatballs.” She grabs a fork and twists it into the pot to grab a bite. Moaning as she chomps down on it, red sauce dribbles down her chin.
“Make a plate and come eat with us! There’s plenty to share,” I tell her, passing over a napkin, which she gratefully accepts.
There’s nothing better than the nights we all get to have a meal together—our own little found family.
Cassia’s more than just my best friend. She’s like my big sister.
One who saved my life when I found myself pregnant and homeless at eighteen—and has been saving me ever since.
“Can’t, my loves. I’m off to work in five. If I’m late again, I’m pretty sure the boss’s head will explode.” She gobbles down another forkful, then kisses Asher on the head. “Be good for your mom, Ashie-poo. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Yuckkkkk.” He laughs, dodging her. “Have fun cleaning up after stinky people.”
We both thought it would be best to hide her job from little ears, so my son thinks his Auntie C is cleaning her way through school.
But let’s be honest, cleaning just doesn’t pay the bills.
Between my waitressing job and Cassia’s stripping, just paying our monthly bills is a stretch. Cue my secret new night job.
Now I just need to get Asher to bed.
With two quickly blown kisses, Cass makes her way to the door and out into the night.
The second the door clicks shut, silence descends on the room.
Waiting quietly, Asher sizes me up before pouncing.
“So about that exhibition… Is there any chance I could sign up for it?” Asher bites his lip, then shifts in his seat.
Even though I try to keep the specifics of our financial situation from him, he knows money is tight.
We aren’t like most of the families at his school or on the hockey team.
They are all packs with multiple income streams, or high-level beta executives, but I’m just a solo omega, trying to make the best of the hand I’ve been dealt. On my own two feet.
No bloody Alpha-holes in sight.
“I’m going to try my best, Ash. Promise.” It’s all I can give him at the moment, but it’s enough. A giant grin stretches from cheek to cheek, and his green eyes sparkle.
“Wooohoooo! Thanks, Mom!” He jumps up from his seat and rushes around the table to envelop me in a big hug that makes my determination grow. “And if I can’t, I will understand.”
His whispered words mean everything to me. A sign that I’m raising a good kid.
“Thank you, lovebug.” I sigh, squeezing him tightly against me. “Now let’s finish dinner, then homework, and get some good rest.”
With one last squeeze, he does just that.
The hush of my apartment cocoons me as I dress, ready to put on my finest show yet.
It had better be anyway, because if I don’t up my game, there won’t be enough subscribers or tips to pay for Asher’s exhibition before the signup deadline.
Four days to earn at least three hundred dollars.
I know there are people on NightNudes who make a great deal more than that in a single evening.
Then again, they tend to do more than some yoga in a see-through bra and thong.
Fuck. I need to up my game. But how far am I willing to go?
Standing in front of my mirror, I double-check the skimpy bra-and-panty set I have on to make sure it’s sexy without really showing much of anything.
My long red hair is tucked under the black wig, and I give it a yank.
The bobby pins hold, and the ebony bob doesn’t move an inch.
With finality, I reach for the deep red, orange, and gold mask.
A perfect reminder of what I am, who I am.
Phoenix, rising from the ashes of my life and spreading my wings.
I may go by Nixie now, but inside, my name is my truth.
Once the mask sits securely on my face, I take a few deep breaths, then log onto the website, nerves fluttering in my belly. It pops up quickly. Steeling myself, I think back on my high school theater classes.
All the world’s a stage, and this is just an act.
I maneuver the camera to only show what I want it to, then pull down the tip menu and add a few items I’ve been avoiding. With shaking hands, I type it in:
Bra removed - $50
Touch myself - $100
Show slick digits - $50 if combined with the above
My hand hovers over the private room option; it seems too personal, too intense. But adding it could make me enough money to pay for the exhibition in only one night. I chew on my thumbnail, debating, but my time is ticking down. Indecision wars with indigestion.
“Nope. Can’t do it.” Fully chickening out, I hit the ‘available’ button.
There’s always the option of adding more tomorrow if tonight doesn’t work out.
After rolling my shoulders, I walk over to my yoga mat and start my nightly practice.
When I told Cassia about this money-making adventure, her advice was to do something involving movement I enjoy to pass the time.
That way, if no one comes in or tips, I haven’t lost anything.
It can take time to build a fan base, but my new nickname, ScorchedOmega, is bringing in way more viewers than YogaTease did.
Everyone wants to gawk at an omega.
I’m barely through my first flow when the soft chimes indicate viewers.
Doing my best to add a bit of depth and a soft accent to my voice, I greet them.
“Hey y’all, thanks for joining me this evening.
I’m just enjoying a bit of stretching and strengthening.
If you wanna take a look, there are some new options on my tip list.” With a flirty eye flutter, I give in to my role as temptress.
My arms stretch high as I move into my warrior sequence, trying to peek surreptitiously at the usernames on the screen.
Seven people so far, some names I’ve seen before.
I try to hide a grin when I notice PuckNut88 enter the chat.
We haven’t interacted much, but his name alone is enough to spur me on. 88—the reason I’m doing this.
Cha-Ching. The cash sound alerts me to an incoming tip.
HardAlphaBro9: Lets see dat a$$ -tip $10.
Though his words make bile race up my throat, I nibble my lip suggestively and reply, “Thank you for the tip, HardAlphaBro9.” My voice is breathy, and I wiggle my hips before turning my rear toward the camera, melting smoothly into a downward dog.
My thong reveals my ass cheeks but covers my pussy, and the view is exactly what they were asking for.
A few more entry chimes ring out, and the sound of another tip rolls in, but I hold the pose for the full thirty seconds, making sure they get what they paid for. Once the time is up, I slowly break, flowing into humble warrior pose before sliding my hands sensually over my body as I stand fully.
My skin is warm to the touch. Whether from the gentle exercise or the excitement of being watched, I’m not sure, but becoming ScorchedOmega is growing easier each time. Maybe even fun.
“Welcome, new members,” I rasp, checking the chat to see what they’re saying. Most are just comments appreciating my ass, wishing they could see more. But it’s the tip from another regular visitor that catches my eye.
KnottingU: Finally put a price on titty time! Show me the $- tip $50.
Instantly, my mouth goes dry. I’ve never done this before. Nerves and excitement flutter in my belly.
You’re not Nixie; no one knows what you really look like.
The internal reminder helps me get back into character. Breathing in deeply, I let determination beat back my anxiety and raise my hand to my bra strap.
It’s showtime.