7. Sebastian
Chapter 7
Sebastian
M y eyes were still burning when Georgia rushed out of my apartment, the whole place still reeking of expired pepper spray and my floors slick with milk. Organic milk, I might add. I pried open the painted-over window frame to let the cold night air in because nothing was better than the smell that had affixed itself to my once-spotless apartment.
It was then that I realized I was still holding a blanket over my bottom half, too scared to touch anything below my belly button with my hands until I had scrubbed them at least three more times. Who needed those extra layers of skin anyway?
Once I was absolutely sure no pepper spray residue remained on my hands, I pulled on a pair of boxers and grabbed the mop from the closet. While mopping, I found the discarded hot pink object and, using a pair of tongs, gently placed it into the trash receptacle, along with said tongs. I wasn't taking any chances. My stomach still pitched as the sting of pepper that had permeated my nostrils while I resisted the urge to rub my eyes again.
Walking into my bedroom was a nightmare. The red mood lights were still on, casting an eerie glow on the bedroom, which, when filming, looked mysterious and sexy but now just looked like a horror movie gone wrong. My camera was lying discarded on the floor, red light still beeping as it recorded the carpet, so thankfully, it wasn't broken in all the hysterics.
The spray seemed localized to the hallway, but the room still reeked, and being on the first floor of this apartment complex, I made the decision just to open the other window, too. At this point, the murderers could just have me. What a fucking nightmare this was. Thankfully I always had a backup in case of an emergency where I couldn't film or push out content in a timely manner, but only having two in the vault meant I needed to get my shit together. During the colder months, my subscribers seemed to increase and I chalked it up to being indoors more as the cold came in. But to be honest, I couldn’t get hard right now if I tried.
I was already stressed as it was; Natalie, my closest friend and only collaborator, was moving to Europe with her long-time girlfriend turned fiancé. I was happy for her, ecstatic even—she had been working her ass off for years for her doctorate, and she was going to help a lot of people. But we had a great partnership with no strings attached and made each other a shit ton of money.
My family weren’t exactly nobodies, and finding someone with the level of discretion I needed was nearly impossible in this very digital age. I loved the work and the online communities that it fostered, but I wasn't someone who wanted my face revealed or wanted to use a platform like social media. The thought of my grandfather Charles finding out still gave me nightmares.
So here I was, working solo like I had at the beginning. And it's not like it wasn't good content, which I could also use for thirst traps on video platforms with links to my live streams and more—ahem—adult content, but the DMs I had been getting were steadily asking for more collabs. Some asked for specific people, which I automatically turned down. Others were easier; some people just had ideas or certain things they wanted to happen, and they would pay handsomely to see them.
Most were women; the mask fantasy that had broken over the internet had really changed the game for me. I had used a mask for a while, but now, it was a full-on kink that had women creaming their panties at the first glimpse of my ski-masked face and shirtless montages, the latest smut metal crooning along with my very deliberate movements. But some loved the collaboration with Natalie, who was also in a mask; it was easier that way to imagine themselves in the positions of me (or the idea of faceless me) doing things to their body.
Maybe it was time to start closing up shop? I had amassed a small fortune that I currently split between high-yield savings accounts and with my wealth manager, who helped me invest in the right stocks. With a bachelor's in business and accounting, I knew exactly how to play the game. Not just as a sex worker but as a businessman. As much as my grandfather held my future in the palm of his hand, this was one way I could do things my way. To help my sister without him holding it over their heads.
And they had no idea. Hopefully, they never would.