Amy´s Paradise

Everything was ready for that night: first, I prepared a costume that I had worn before, it felt perfect with a soft fabric and small wings in the right places; second, I planned to fulfill the latest requests from my viewers, chat with them a bit more and finally, bid farewell and say goodbye to the room forever.

Last month had been terrible: few paid requests and my regulars in private shows disappearing. So, finally, that day I had gathered the courage knowing that with the little money I had left for my expenses and rent, I could survive a couple of weeks while I sorted out my schedule at my old job. Part of my situation was due to the apartment I had rented, it had much more privacy than expected after living with roommates for so long but with a higher rent. Therefore, taking my previous job at the bar with its fixed income was a good option; I did not have much love for it, but at least it would pay the bills.

Being in a foreign city where you have no family or close friends makes things more difficult. “He” still visits for his relatives live, but over time I grew attached to this city—partly because I know there are places I can work, partly because I have acquaintances who can help when I need it. Someone helped me not long after I broke up with him—came to my apartment when I missed my bar shift to check if I was okay. I do not know how bad I looked at that moment; maybe they feared the worst as they came to my apartment that night to ask how I was. Luckily, I’d finally fallen asleep after crying myself out. My chest still hurt with every breath. Each one burned. My eyes were nearly swollen shut from tears. I started camming not long after the breakup.

At first camming felt like just a distraction from my own thoughts—but soon it became a second job with odd-perks, like venting at a whim or having strange hours. But this was going to come to an end tonight.

I had finished preparing for my last stream: my makeup was ready; I had brushed my hair as I always did, being cautious in not pulling my hair, and had my outfit on, which seemed a little too tight in the chest, but since I was not going to be online long, it was a worthy trade-off.

I gave myself a last look in the camera, said "Here we go!" two-octaves higher. Amy was always chipper, sometimes more than I could stand, but the room loved it, even if I had dragged myself of bed thirty minutes before. So, taking a deep breath, I turned on the camera, connected to the site, and started the broadcast.

-How are you guys?

Immediately, they responded, some with just a word, others sharing their day and others taking the opportunity to send insinuations. Amy, my other name and version, greeted every lurid comment with a laugh, every badly typed sob story with a joke.

-“Fresh gossip tonight, huh? Let’s dig deep—then we’ll get to the fun.”

Some familiar faces had connected and chatted normally; new people introduced themselves and, as always, some with a “red” nickname were there. They were the big spenders but in my room, they only stayed for a while and left or occasionally made some donations and requests; I noticed more “gray” users than usual (indicating no tokens bought), who usually chatted and some were unbearable at times. My perspective was that everyone had the same opportunity if they maintained respect and greeted me. In every room grays were the majority and I had gotten used to them, considering some of them who were always there as acquaintances who made my live streams a bit more bearable.

After talking to hot10z, who was there from the beginning, we reminisced about when I first connected using my cellphone. This was out of pure curiosity and after completing the required paperwork. I was working at the bar at that time, so the idea of a little extra money each month and not being alone with my thoughts after work made it even more appealing, mostly because I had definitively ended things with “him” and I did not want to give any attention to my break up.

The first broadcast, when I wore a long dress claiming it was my grandmother’s, was a success. Many people connected and donations began to come in gradually, even though I was very nervous and having the attention of so many people at the same time scared me. After the broadcast, I was trembling, which was made worse by the cold in my room due to its high walls. I was in a house that I rented with some roommates, that provided the necessary privacy for a few hours of streaming. The house was old and it made the rent much cheaper but not more comfortable to live and the only good thing was the privacy of my room.

There were several requests in my “farewell” stream and everything was going normally. Some people had paid for small things like a greeting or a private message but nothing unusual. So, I continued to show off my outfit and chat with users as I had done before. Each time I got a tip, I would grimace a little bit and smile. Amy loved her tips but always discomforted me if I was wearing a toy, so the pained smile was a friendly compromise.

-Bear with me, I’m a bit overwhelmed! - I had missed a request and I had lost track of the conversation. My back began to ache since the mat was thin but I mustered a smile and continued the broadcast. The costume was divine with their matching undies but was a pain in the ass to wear.

I saw that it was 11:00 pm and we were approaching the halfway point of the broadcast when I would announce that I was leaving the room. At that moment, a person with a red nickname donated to me to send him a message. I saw that it was for a private show and at that moment I was not able to do it. So, I wrote to him asking to try again later knowing that I would not connect again. Several of the red nicknames come for the number of followers one has, as having more attracts more people. However, that does not guarantee that people who spends tokens will come.

For a moment, I thought I was making a wrong decision because I already had about 13,000 followers but that was not enough to cover the bills. Besides I felt like I was running out of ideas and to top it off the mat where I slept and used for live streams gave me back pain because it was very thin being the cheapest option I could afford at the time.

At least in my first broadcasts I had a bed and I think that helped because a couple of weeks after, I had nearly 1200 followers. Several of them reconnected and some requested private shows (which are charged per minute) helping me earn more than what I made at my day job when payday arrived. The downside was that it did not last long but it was enough to save up to move to a larger apartment with roommates from work where I had a green room where I could continue with my broadcasts. It helped a lot that my roommates spent most of their time smoking and drinking. I never understood how they managed it because they earned about the same as I did.

Those broadcasts started at 3-4 am as it was after I finished my bartending job at 2 am, plus the time it took me to get ready. During that time I “talked” through the chat with people in the room, which told me all kinds of things, made all kinds of requests and some paid for theirs while a few decided to have private time with me.

At that time, I already had a laptop which my father had sent along with a pink toy that I could use in the broadcasts and allowed me to increase my earnings quite a bit. During that time, I started to do my makeup as I liked, experimenting with all kinds of exotic makeups: lines on my face, patterns on my cheeks, dark colors, shadows, and eyeliners to soften my features. The room praised my makeup and those who got annoyed with my appearance, I silenced them immediately. “He” never liked my makeup; I cried after he told me: “You look like a clown,” when I tried a new look for one of our dates.

I still had time in my “farewell” and as always, the classic question came up:

-Where are you from?

-Narnia, Mexico, look for me in your wardrobe!

That reply always sorted out curious ones, letting me kept control of the room’s rhythm. But when someone slipped my real city into the chat, Amy’s smile dissapared. Suddenly, I was sweating and pacing the room—the girl behind Amy running the show for a minute, until I could force the mask back on. When I lived with my father I had been kidnapped. Being in an unknown place, at the mercy of people who see you as bounty and in danger of ending up dead, still gives makes me choke and sweat whenever I feel insecure. I cried during that broadcast and closed it shortly afterward. That and many past problems had led me to the decision I would announce today.

The red username, Warlord, asked if there was still time in the broadcast, to which I responded “yes, we still had some time”. What happened next, I am still processing it. I saw my face on the laptop when I received his first donation; it was a significant contribution, more than what I had made the previous week. My hands were trembling and sweaty. I do not know if that emboldened him because he immediately doubled it in another single donation. For a moment, I was speechless and dumbfounded and the only thing that came to mind was:

-Wait, calm down! - alarmed.

This ended up making him repeat the same amount he had given me at once. At that moment, I had lost control of the broadcast.

-Private message, Warlord - if you want, let’s go private to calm you down.

I ended up alone with him in my chat room, while the other people in the room were left wondering what would happen next. Warlord did not ask for more than other people but the fact that I was so nervous seemed to please him quite a bit. We were alone for about half an hour. When we came back, I was sweating and dizzy with even more doubts than before. He seemed very happy—he repeated the same donations he had given at the start.

-Stop, please!

I never thought I would say this to a donation, but my tone must have encouraged another. Each alert pushed the idea of closing the room further away. “Amy’s paradise” had bought itself a little more time. Behind the ring light, I blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry. I sat very still in the silent light. Amy always made everything look like play, even when it felt like work.