Up at 5am today. Sunday. Watching a woman on a live cam. She says it’s her first time doing this. That could be, but most of these camgirls know what they are doing.
In a simpler time one might actually make lasting friends with someone like this. Today it’s all about tokens. Tips. Tips for tata. Live camgirls of modern times are virtually all professionals, or at least trying to be.
She has beautifully painted white fingernails, sweet feet, addictive legs, luscious hair… Not so beautiful a face, by my reckoning, but a smile once in a while would go a long way toward changing my mind about that. She has a kind of perma-frown.
Now she is fiddling with a gold-colored chain, slightly smiling once in a while but mostly maintaining her natural frown. The chitter-chatter sounds of her fingers now rain across the sound of the music playing. She is typing messages to who I do not know.
Now she is pecking her fingers at the screen of her phone. The music sounds like lounge stuff. At present it is what sounds like a recent cover of “I Love You Baby.”
She sits in a yellow chair, an Ikea table to her left. There is a furniture term for this kind of chair but I can’t think of it. It is an Archie Bunker chair.
I cannot watch much longer. I want to broadcast myself, but not the way she’s doing it. Not today. She will likely perform a slo-mo strip show, unpeeling those short shorts and tank-top shirt, but only after tips and tokens pour forth in sufficient quantity. Then again she says this is her first time. What does she think is going to happen here?
If only she would smile.
