“What do you mean, you’re nervous? Did you check the feedback? Girl, you did great.”
My best friend’s voice goes pitched on the other side of the line, forcing me to lean the phone away as she speaks. Alone in the apartment I mindlessly stroll around doing most chores as fast as I can.
“I did, but still Layla. It’s A, freaking A. The guy is the number one.”
“And you will be as well if you keep doing the shit you just did today.”
Her breathing seems to start to pace, and a thought comes to my mind. It wouldn’t be the first time she would pull this shit on me.
"Layla, are you calling me during sex again?”
“No, Sherlock, I’m not. I was jogging to your house and seems I’m out of shape,” she whines. “Just open the damn door.”
She finishes the call, and I run towards the front door before the girl has time to knock. Her patience is thin, so there’s no need of keeping her waiting. Bad mood Layla is something I don’t enjoy seeing often.
Or at all.
“I am so going to slap that pretty ass of yours,” she says soon as I shut the door behind us.
My brow raises as I watch her, ambling over to my kitchen. Layla opens the fridge and takes two bottles of water from the inside, one for her the other for me. This girl feels too at ease at my place.
“Because you doubt yourself, and you shouldn’t,” she takes a few sips from the water before throwing a kiss at me. “You are talented. I’ve told you this more than enough. People like to watch you talk. Now imagine how much they would like if you did other stuff.”
Layla wiggles her eyebrows and laughs at me, her eyes disappear behind laughter when I snort in reply to her comment. Layla has been with me since college, we had the same boring classes, graduated with good grades, and yet both of us got unemployed fast. Guess a degree in psychology isn’t as good as we thought it would be. However, it sure helps me to interact with people.
My best friend decided to ditch her degree altogether once she started her channel; she tried to work in our field but realized it was not for her. Layla doesn’t have what it takes to give someone bad news, to see someone cry and not comforting the person. To deal with other problems when her life is a mess in the first place.
Me? I may go back to try to find something in that area, but being competitive as it is I very much doubt it.
“Okay, even if they like it, what good will come from A watching my channel?”
Layla saunters in my direction. I see her snickering while her eyes lock on mine before she answers.
“You could be the number one camgirl.”
For some reason I let Layla take me shopping. She mentions I need new clothes to be in front of the camera, and since I have yet to receive my first paycheck, she is buying. No, I am not enjoying it as you would expect. Being a proud ass bitch, Layla’s words, not mine.
“You know everything you buy me I will either pay you back or buy a huge present once I have enough money, right?”
Layla giggles at me but her attention is still on the shirts she is going through. She pulls out a couple of ones, plus a pair of skinny jeans before throwing them to where I stand.
“I think these are good, let’s search for shorts or skirts. You shoot on your bed, so guys imaginations go wild with that.”
I take one of the shirts to see it’s a little see-through, Layla being Layla chose this. Sex sells as she says. They are also off the shoulder, and I recall reading somewhere men usually like a little skin, even if it’s not boob related, while talking to women.
Everything she picks has a purpose, a meaning. To sensualize or to make either sure who is watching gets what he or she came for.
“Now, being serious and all, you have nothing to worry about Nicole,” she says, dropping the clothes on the counter. “I’m sure he isn’t going to check the tags, and even if he does, why would it be a bad thing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Listen, when you started broadcasting, it was all about the money. But by what you told me lately you do enjoy talking with the people right?”
I nod at her, watching as the girl from the register passes the clothes. As they beep against the scanner, I ask myself, why am I so unsure about this? I chose to be a camgirl; I decided to do this. Never once I got nervous with a guy, why am I starting to grow unsure of myself now?
His views and rank shouldn’t count.
Being in charge is excellent, I enjoy it the most. And I was always a tease anyway, so the fact I can get a reaction from people just by using my words is something I relish about very much.
“Fine,” I tell her once we start to walk outside of the shop. “What should I do next? I mean broadcasting wise?”
Layla’s face lights up, a mischievous smile crosses her lips before I see her eyes flickering with anticipation.
“Everything you want, babe. Accept your kinky side. You are a perv, after all, embrace it.”