Cammers With Benefits

Part I

In Bed At Last

Chapter 1

The knock at the door jerks me back into reality.

Brice.

I pull my gaze away from the computer monitor and its half dozen chat windows and constant binging sounds, each signaling a new (but small) donation from a viewer. It’s nearly nine. That’s when we said we would meet for our weekly movie session. But the time slipped away.

After typing out a quick apology to my viewers, I toss on clothes and yell through the front door.

“Wait, just a minute!”

This only encourages Brice to knock with more and more fervor. I’m still adjusting my sleeping shorts, far too aware that I didn’t have time to throw on a bra under my hoodie, when I finally pull the door open. Brice’s smile is all teeth.

“Catch you at a bad time?” He says as he walks right past me. We’ve always been like this. Ever since we were in elementary school and hanging out at each other’s houses every day after classes. What’s mine is his and vice versa. He pokes his head in the fridge. “Did you seriously drink all the beer I brought last week? That was a 24-pack!”

Shit. I forgot to refill the fridge. He knows I’m not the sort of girl to drink more than a bottle a night, but what he doesn’t know is that this week has nearly broken me. I’ve been hiding all my worries each time we chat on the phone.

“I can pop out and grab some more,” I offer, hoping to any deities that may be listening that he doesn’t take me up on my offer. I have less than five dollars in my account, and that’s going to have to last until the end of the week when the camming site transfers my earnings for the month into my account.

“Nah,” he says and plops down on the sofa. “Could probably use a break from booze anyway. It’s good to clear the system every now and then, you know? Make sure you’re not getting too reliant on the stuff. So,” he says and flips through a three-month-old fashion magazine that was splayed open on the arm of the couch, “what were you doing when I interrupted? There’s not a naked guy in the closet is there?”

I turn away from him for just two seconds. Just long enough to pull the half-eaten box of Cheez-its out of the cupboard. Just long enough time to close my eyes, collect whatever little energy I have left after that cam session, and slip on my happy-go-lucky mask. I then sit on the other side of the sofa, throwing my legs over his lap and holding out the box of snacks. “Two actually,” I joke back. “They’ll have to make do with each other for now.”

Brice nods sagely. “So I did interrupt something nasty. That would explain the missing beer too.”

He’s hinting, letting me know that he suspects something. But whether he’s on the trail of the actual truth is impossible to confirm without fessing up. I’m not about to go down that route. Instead, I change the topic entirely. “How’s the part-time gig at the hospital going?”

“Fantastic,” he says in that singsong voice he does when he’s really exaggerating something. “There’s no better way to spend the day than by cleaning the trash of people you wish you could be. I probably picked up a thousand cigarette butts today. I’ll tell you, doctors smoke a lot more than I expected. I mean, an inordinate amount. You would think they of all people would know to stay away from those cancer sticks.”

The lightness his humor brings to my apartment dissipates quickly, leaving behind a silence filled only by my refrigerator’s buzzing. “So, what are we watching tonight?”

Brice flicks on the TV. Flips through a few channels lazily. “I was thinking an oldie but a goodie. Monty Python?”

“We watched all their movies two months ago,” I complain, but it’s more out of habit than anything else. We always go through this routine. We have an established movie night, but we’re never ready with an actual movie to watch. Not that it matters tonight. No matter what he chooses, my mind isn’t going to be on the TV. I’m too focused on how I’m going to make rent this month, not to mention buy groceries and keep the Internet up. That last one’s more important than running water at this point.

All too aware of the lacy lingerie I’m wearing under my sweatpants, I casually say, “Just pick whatever you want. I need to take a piss.”

In the bathroom, I immediately pull off the thong that has been burrowing into my ass. There was no way I was going to be suffering with that all through a movie. I open the laundry hamper I keep in the bathroom only to remember that for once I was actually responsible last night. All of my clothes are in the dryer, which means no old panties to pull on. I figure it doesn’t matter and simply pull my shorts back on.

The moment I walk out the door, I know something is off. Brice isn’t lounging on the sofa, nor is he scrounging around inside my fridge, searching for anything edible. He can’t be in the bathroom I’ve just come out of either, which leaves only one place: my bedroom. But he never goes in there, because there’s nothing of interest. Nothing but a handful of books and my laptop.

My laptop.

I walk in long strides, desperately trying to recall if I closed the browser when Brice showed up at my door. He would only be looking at what movies I had on my hard drive, but if I didn’t close the chat window, he would definitely stumble on the one part of my life I’ve kept secret. The one thing I don’t want him to know about me.

When I get through the doorway, he’s sitting on the edge of my bed, my laptop propped on his lap. He doesn’t have to say anything; his eyes are all the confirmation I need.

“I can explain.”

Brice doesn’t respond. He just keeps looking from me to the video stills populating my computer screen, each showing me in a different erotic pose. Thankfully most have me wearing at least panties. I sit down beside him and try to pull the laptop away, but he won’t budge.

“If you needed money, I could have helped,” he says.

The worst part is that I know Brice. Better than anyone. He’s not like this now because he’s ashamed of me. We’ve been best friends since second grade. Just as I know all of his secrets, Brice knows all of mine. How old I was when I stopped wetting the bed. My first crushes. When I first discovered masturbation. When I lost my virginity. He knows everything except this one thing. And now that he’s uncovered my last hidden secret, he’s not ashamed. No, he’s taking pity on me, which may be worse.