4. Blue
BLUE
“So this is where the magic happens.” Sapphire does a slow spin around my room, taking it all in. Taking her sweet time. Giving me a smug little smile.
“So I’m told.” Half the girls that come in here say the exact same thing. But sure, she can think she’s clever. Whatever puts her at ease.
Sapphire’s pretty. The right kind of pretty, too: full lips, thick hair, tits that look just soft enough to be natural spilling out of her little crop top.
We’ve never worked together before, but I can tell she’ll more than do.
I wake up the machines, flick on the lighting rigs, lift the login key from around my neck and stab it in the port.
Sapphire just looks around, at the gray walls and the long, plush, black velvet sofa.
“Sleek,” she says, running her finger across the top of my dresser.
“I like it.” I tilt back the monitor to hook up the camera. Call me paranoid, but I detach that shit after every stream. No free samples. I flick open the browser, navigate to the panel, fire up the test stream. Green lights: all systems go.
“We’re not going to keep your, ah, roommates up?” she asks lightly.
“They’re not my roommates.” What are we, fourteen?
Sapphire laughs softly—a real laugh, not a giggle. To her credit. “Your…biker gang. Whatever it is you do.”
Whatever it is we do. Run a business, technically. Stab jewelry into people’s bodies, if you’re me. Draw tattoos, if you’re Kit. All legal.
Less legal are the other hustles. The books Pan runs. The boosted bikes Fox hacks to pieces. Our little delivery boy act for the Albanians.
Feels like there’s another word for doing anything a paying customer asks for.
I glance back at Sapphire.
She doesn’t look like a narc, though.
Not the way she’s staring me down.
“You know, I just realized,” she says, tipping her head. “Sapphire? Blue? It’s like we have the same name. Isn’t that funny?”
Betting she realized that a while ago. I look back at the monitor and grab my keyboard. “You have a handle on here? I can tag your account.”
“I…” She trails off. “No,” she says at last, running her hand absently up a microphone stand, staring up at my TK mic model.
So no revenue split on the platform. Whatever; money’s barely the point. “I’ll cash out your half, then.” I click out of the interface to find Sapphire still staring at the mic rig.
“You…” She notices me looking and blushes. “Sorry, this is going to sound stupid as hell. But these are all for your stream right? Nothing else?”
I frown. “Like what?”
“Like…you’re not bugged, I mean.”
I choke back a laugh. “Are you asking me if I’m a cop?”
Sapphire folds her arms under her tits. “I mean, fuck, Blue, I don’t know!
I usually just dance or work in person. I don’t know what any of this gear is for.
Some of the girls talking about there being Feds out there, wearing wires, trying to catch us in the act or something.
” She inhales. “Good-looking ones, too, I mean. Undercover.”
She’s cute when she’s flustered. I straighten up and close the distance between us.
“Sapphire.” I take her chin, firm, in my hand, and tilt her face to mine. “Would a cop do this?”
I kiss her, hard, possessive, forceful, suck her lower lip between my teeth, and bite. Gentle, not enough to draw blood.
But just barely.
“N…no,” she stammers as I let her go. She blinks, rubbing a fingertip across her now-swollen mouth, then smiles. Eyes hooded, voice smoky once again. “Hey, I had to ask.”
From stunned senseless to flirty in a split second. A true pro.
Yeah, she’ll do nicely.
“Glad we got that settled.” I nod and reach around her, to the top drawer of the dresser. “These ones okay?”
I bring the package toward the light so she can read it—brand, ingredients, whatever. One girl shrieking my cooch is on fire! and practically kneeing me in the balls to get away and I’ve learned to ask proactively about allergies and shit.
Sapphire glances down, then back up at me, right through her lashes. “I’m clean.”
“Good for you.” I offer it again. “There’s non-latex too, if you want.”
She frowns. “Are you…not?”
Instead of answering, I flick open my phone. Page to the clinic app. Hold it for her to read. As she does, I slip the condom in my back pocket for easy access.
“Oh.” She pulls a quick, tiny sad face. “So why can’t we…”
The look on my face shuts her up. Nice try. She could play me timestamped videos of her taking the pill every day for the last ten years and I’d still wrap my shit. Between this and piercing clients, I don’t fuck around about anything bloodborne or sexually transmitted, and that includes kids.
I fucking hate kids.
“Sapphire’s not my real name, you know.”
“I know.” Blue’s not mine either. “Hard lines?”
Sapphire thinks. “No…non-sexual bodily fluids.”
I smirk. That’s almost funny. “Okay. What else?”
“Nothing.”
Bullshit. “What else?” I repeat. “Safe word?”
“Stop.”
Very original. “Okay. What else?”
Sapphire sighs. “Jesus, Blue.” She eases her way toward me, leaning over so that her plumped-up rack is fully on display. “I’m not a virgin.” She’s at my chest now, staring up at me, whispering. “I won’t break.”
My dick stiffens.
“You promise you’re not wearing a wire?” she murmurs. “Then take off your shirt and prove it.”
“Wait.” I yank my shirt hem out of her hands, rip it over my head, and lean back to click the START button.
YOU ARE NOW LIVE.
Perfect.
“Go.”
Except I don’t let her go. I grab her by the neck and pull her the rest of the way to me. She moans, a perfect, hot little porny moan, and I grip her jaw harder.
“You want a good time, babygirl?”
She barely manages an uh-huh before I rake my mouth over hers, her lips all soft, sweet, warm.
I jerk back and spin her.
Too bad I’m none of those things.
“You think you can stay quiet with me?” I rumble, palming her tits with one hand while my other strokes its way under her panties. “Huh? ‘Cause I’m gonna fuck you ’til you scream.”
Sapphire’s eyes flutter shut.
In the corner, the screen flashes and pings as the first gifts start to hit. Gold coins, red roses, purple eggplants, ticking up the chat log that scrolls by.
Not that I’m in it for the money.
I drag a finger down her jawline, to her neck.
“You like that?”
“Uh-huh.” She nods, throat rippling against my grip as she swallows. My pants are gone, here and in the monitor, I can just make out the flash in her eyes. Excitement. Arousal. A little bit of fear.
“Then get on that couch.”
I don’t wait for her to obey. Half a second later and I’ve got her pushed knee-deep in the cushion, bent over the velvet armrest.
Waiting for me.
Fuck.
I know I could make more money solo.
I plant a knee on either side of Sapphire’s legs.
Or doing gay shit.
Pin her hips to mine.
“Unh.”
But I don’t want to.
I fist up a handful of curls and pull.
She’s a good moaner, I’ll give her that. I close my eyes and savor the sound, let the blood surge down me.
Because it’s not about the money.
Her hair in my hand, my cock thick and throbbing—
I let out a tight groan of my own.
Almost a growl.
No. I just love my fucking job.
I thrust into her, no more warning. Sapphire gasps, the kind of gasp that’s too raw to be rehearsed.
That just gets me harder.
I fuck her, shallow and fast at first and then slow, circling, deeper, angling her so the light hits my chest, my arms, the tight fit of her pussy stretching to take me.
As I do, the chimes and pings of the stream go nonstop, cascading with sweatdrop and pouring-tears emotes as viewers, fans, my adoring public, whoever the fuck is getting off to my stream.
To me.
But I can’t let that get in my head.
I close my eyes.
“You like that?” I growl at her. Sapphire. Bouncing hard against the base of my cock so slick it’s gleaming in the lights. “That the best you’ve ever been fucked.”
“It is,” she cries. Almost sobs. “Y-you are.”
“Goddamn right,” I spit at her.
I reach around her hip and feel her shudder. Grip me tighter.
Perfect.
What can I say? Michelangelo paints ceilings. Michael Phelps swims laps. I fuck on camera.
“Scream,” I order, raking strokes against her clit. “Scream for me. Scream when you come, babyg—”
Zap.
Click.
The lights go out. All of them.