Tethered (2 page)

“Do you do private shows?”
a guy who I had never seen before asked.

I had never done a private show before, mostly
because no guy had been willing to spend that many coins on me before. The site charged a minimum of two hundred tokens for a private show, and most of the guys that watched me likely lived rent-free in their mothers’ basements, as they were “in between jobs.”

“Yeah,” I said nervously as my voice was transmitted through the room.

Butterflies filled my stomach as I waited for his response, if he even still wanted me in a private room. I wasn’t sure what went on during a private show, but I knew that I was up to the challenge. It would probably be the same things that I always had to do, but this guy likely just wanted me to himself. Guys seem to like having a girl to themselves. It seemed like some big caveman thing that they get off on.

A pop
-up came on my screen that read,
“User ‘lightsxcameraxactionx’ was requesting a private show with a tip of one thousand coins.”

“Holy shit,” I said softly as my heart began to beat like
a drum in a marching band.

That
was a hundred dollars, and I usually had to wait a few days to make anything like that. If this was what happened with private shows, then let every guy on this site know I was open twenty-four seven for private shows!

I clicked accept and I was hit with a loading bar as the site prepared the private room for the two of us
. I wasn’t sure what would happen to my other room with all of my loving and loyal fans, but they would have to wait and be put on hold for this kind of money.

The room loaded and it was just him and
me. I sat there, my cam on, and waited for any kind of instruction on what to do. A few seconds went by, and I was nervous that I was supposed to be doing something and that he’d get mad and leave, never to bring himself, and his money, back again.

“Do you have any toys?”
He messaged me.

“No, I don’t,” I replied.

“What about something like a hairbrush?”
he asked.

“Uhh ya, I have a
couple brushes,” I said hesitantly.

“Great. I want you to go get them and slowly insert one in your tight pink slit while the other goes very slowly up your little asshole,”
he said vulgarly.

I was floored
. Is
this
what happened in private shows? I was so used to just getting naked and dancing around that I forgot that everybody else on this site actually did things to themselves that was a little bit more than getting naked.

“I don’t think I want to put anything up my butt,” I said
, then laughed as I tried to diffuse the situation without making him mad.

“Then you need to put something bigger than a hairbrush handle up there,”
he said, almost telling me I had only two choices and that was it.

I thought about it for a second and realized that this
wasn’t what I wanted to do—at least not for him. I was willing to do a lot of things, but this wasn’t it. Maybe it was nerves, or maybe I just wasn’t ready, but stuffing some horse dick up my holes wasn’t exactly what my body wanted or needed.

“I’m not willing to do that—sorry.”

“You said you did private shows.”
The man typed.

“Yeah, but I’m not willing to do weird stuff for guys I don’t even know.”

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind someday. I’ll get myself off to you one day, you sexy little thing,”
he said before he disconnected and I was left staring at myself on the screen.

I clicked out of the private room and was taken back to my normal room, where the guest count
read zero. None of the regulars were in, and while I was able to keep the tip from the private room, I might’ve hurt myself in the long run and aggravated the guys that normally gave me my coins and kept me eating and living in this apartment. I didn’t think that hundred dollars was worth potentially losing everything.

I exited out of the chat and closed my laptop as I heard a few guys yelling at each other outside
. They didn’t sound angry, but rather happy and saying how good of friends they were and how they were coming up with ideas on how to make the perfect waffle. I guess this was college, and the copious amounts of alcohol were plentiful and available to anybody who had two legs and could walk to a party.

I unlocked and left my room, my nipples still poking through my tank top as Morgan had left the air on from this afternoon, and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed
. I splashed some water on my face and began to wash my face as I saw my hairbrush sitting on the counter. The pink handle almost taunted me, as all I had to do was pick it up earlier and take it with me to gain possibly even more money and tips.

I patted my face with a fresh towel and hung it up before running my fingers over the handle
. I looked around the empty room, the door closed, just to make sure nobody was around and watching. Maybe I could try it by myself, and if I liked it, incorporate it into my routine. I didn’t see it as pleasuring myself, but rather market research. Something like this could improve my audience ratings and maybe even bring in more tips.

I picked up the brush, hid it close to my side in case Morgan came out of her room, and slyly walked out of the bathroom and scurried back to my bedroom, where I promptly locked the door
, turned off the lights, and jumped into bed. I heard more guys yelling at each other as the light from the streetlamps pierced through the one broken blind I had, as I slid my shorts down from underneath the covers.

Well, lightsxcameraxactionx, I guess this one is dedicated to you.

Chapter Two

“I did it!” Morgan screamed as I walked through the door after a very hard and unforgiving biology midterm.

“What?” I asked in sheer confusion.

“The contest! I got through and Chad Winters said I won the tickets!”

“Oh shut up,” I said, brushing her off.

“No, it’s true! They said a limo would come and pick us up tomorrow at four, so make sure you have a cute dress
. Maybe that one you bought for your cousin’s wedding,” Morgan said with a tone of excitement in her voice.

It made perfect sense that she would win something like this
. Hollywood was something close in distance, but far away in my mind. That whole lifestyle just eluded me, and I couldn’t understand how anybody would want to experience any part of that. The only good thing that came from that industry was getting overpaid for barely any work. One good movie role could mean retirement for any normal person.

“I
…I don’t know Morgan,” I said hesitantly.

“No
, Chloe, you swore you’d go with me. You swore and you know it!” Morgan said with her hands on her hips.

I looked in the other direction and contemplated not going before realizing that I
had
to go. Morgan wasn’t the most popular girl, not that I was one to talk, and I was likely on this short notice, her only true choice. Besides, I told her I’d go with her, and I had to keep my promise. Maybe I could miraculously get a pounding headache during the first ten minutes of that after-party we had tickets to.

“Fine,” I said in an almost defeated voice.

“See, I knew you’d come through,” she said as she jumped and hugged me tightly.

“Yeah,” I replied as I rolled my eyes.

“I have to go figure out what to wear!” she said as the adrenaline rushed through her tiny veins.

Morgan ran to her room and I threw down my backpack, all of my books in tow, before sitting down on the strangely stained couch
. What did I just get myself into?

•••

The next day all Morgan would talk about was what we were going to experience tonight. What celebrities would be there, how the movie would be, and who we would mingle with, if anyone, at the after-party. I tried to tell her that she shouldn’t get her hopes up, and that we were going to be so low on the totem pole that nobody would care about us, but she didn’t believe me. She believed we would interact with Kurt Simmons, and I just rolled my eyes whenever she brought it up.

I
decided on the dress I wore at my cousin’s wedding, even though it wasn’t that classy or red carpet worthy. It was just a basic dress, white with some lace and a black bow around the waist, which I got on markdown at the last minute. I think it might’ve been a prom dress, and the store was just trying to off-load it to anybody who would buy it, and that sucker was me.

“Oh
God, it’s almost time,” Morgan said as she paced around the living room and patted her armpits with crisp white Kleenex.

“You’re overthinking this,” I said.

A knock came suddenly at the door as Morgan quickly turned her head and looked on like a scared meerkat. The time had come, and I was guessing the chauffeur for the limo was finally here. I was one step closer to being done with this entire encounter.

I walked over to the door, opened it, and saw a man in a suit and funny hat standing in front of me with a smile on his face
. He must’ve been in his mid-forties, with slightly graying hair and a freshly shaved face. His baggy eyes conveyed a clear sense of exhaustion, which must’ve been brought on by his job, as I imagined driving a bunch of rich people around town all day wasn’t something that was stressless.

“Good evening
. I’m here to take Ms. Carlson and guest to the
Seductive Intentions
premiere,” the chauffeur said as he glanced down at a piece of paper.

“Okay, I think I have everything I need,” Morgan said nervously, her hands shaking, as she patted herself and checked her clutch purse.

“Morgan, you’re fine,” I said as I put my hand behind her, pushed her forward, and shook my head as we walked out the door.

•••

Los Angeles traffic was a bitch, especially during the premiere of one of the most anticipated movies of the year. After all, Kurt was just named the Sexiest Man Alive by
TrueU
magazine, and that title wasn’t just given out to anybody. I thought the entire title was a bit shallow, considering there were likely millions of men that were better looking than he was running about the country.

We sat in the car for almost an hour before arriving at the premiere
. Limos, town cars, and exotic cars lined the curb as each celebrity inside waited to walk the red carpet and get their picture taken, which would then end up on all of the gossip shows and magazines. I was dreading having to walk this thing in my knockoff prom dress, but my nerves were soon extinguished as the chauffeur dropped us off at the guest and VIP entrance, which was down the sidewalk about twenty feet from the red carpet.

“We are here
. Please check in with the desk there and they will give you your passes. Have a good time, and I shall pick you up after the party. If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to call,” he said before giving Morgan a piece of paper with his direct number on it.

“Thank you,” I said courteously as Morgan flung open the door in excitement and pure giddiness.

We got out, I closed the door, and we walked up and got in line behind a few other waiting guests as they checked in at this little security hut that guarded the special entrance. I didn’t recognize anybody else in line, meaning they weren’t famous, but rather either won some contest like Morgan or was the friend of a cousin who knew this guy that did landscaping for one of the celebrities walking the red carpet.

As we got up to the hut a few minutes later, the guard, a very large and very heavy man was sitting on a black bar stool with an unamused stare.

“Names?” he asked with an exasperated tone.

“Morgan Carlson,” she said quickly and nervously, as if the
president were asking her a direct question.

The man sifted through his clipboard papers and ran his finger down the line before stopping at a name, likely Morgan’s name, and crossed it off with a highlighter
. He picked up two lanyard badges, which were laminated and colorful, and handed them to us both before another guard opened a velvet rope entrance for us to pass through, as if we were bestowed this giant honor. There was nothing left to do or say, and we didn’t even need to give identification. I was guessing we were supposed to, but this guy really didn’t look like he gave a shit—that and his girth alone was enough to deter anybody from questioning his authority.

“This is so exciting,” Morgan exclaimed as she grabbed my arm and dr
agged me down the slightly red carpet, which appeared as though it had been used a number of times. We walked up a set of stairs, obscured by a bush, before emerging onto the craziness and torture that was the
real
red carpet.

Sounds of yelling paparazzi were clearly heard as
the names of famous stars were yelled out.

Natasha Youngren

Trent Killings

Bradley Turman

All of the names of the most famous stars in the world, some of which had starred in my favorite movies, were called out. And swarms of people, both media and event staff, made locust swarms seem like child’s play. I hadn’t seen anything like this before, and I wasn’t too sure I wanted to see it ever again.

“There!” Morgan said
, as she pointed.

She was pointing to a section with a sign that said it was reserved for VIP guests
. I guess since we were technically VIP guests, we were supposed to, if we wanted to, go up to that small space on the edge of the red carpet and interact with any celebrities that would give us peasants the time of day. Morgan, of course, grabbed my hand with a death grip and pulled me into the section, where a couple other VIPs were hanging out and yelling the names of the various celebrities in hopes of being noticed.

Morgan swooned as they all passed by, with none of them even giving her any attention
. I didn’t blame them, though, for their “people” were pulling them in every which direction to talk to the largest of the television networks and magazines. I thought a movie premiere was supposed to be fun, but I guess it really was just one giant press conference.

•••

With only twenty minutes until the movie was set to premiere, the big star of the movie arrived: Kurt Simmons. Yes, Kurt Simmons, the Sexiest Man Alive, was on the red carpet and fielding pictures and talking with every media outlet that he could possibly handle. He looked smug, arrogant, and slightly neurotic—and I didn’t even want to look at him any longer.

“Isn’t he so fucking sexy?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah,” I said sarcastically as I rolled my eyes.

Kurt, if that
was even his real name, just wasn’t my type. Besides the fact that he was some big Hollywood guy and I wasn’t really into that, he just seemed like such an ass. His confidence was more cockiness, his tan was too golden to be real, and all of the media reports I had read about him made him seem like some womanizing playboy. Saying he wasn’t my type was truly an understatement.

As he got closer to us, which was near the door to the venue, the screams of all the girls, Morgan included, grew louder
. They were foaming at the mouth like rabid dogs, and I just wanted to put them all down.

As bored as I was, I
continued to watch—as he got closer—before I saw his gaze locked on me. I glanced around, scoping out all the girls around me, as I tried to figure out if it was one of those awkward situations where the person really wasn’t looking at you, no matter how much you thought they were. I was nothing special, and this dress wasn’t exactly a Swarovski crystal-laced one that would draw the attention of
any
guy.

Kurt quickly ended his interview, lightly pushing away the microphone and started to make his way toward me
. His vision was locked onto me, and as he got closer, I felt my stomach dropping onto the floor. What was happening, and how was I going to get out of it?

“Hello
, my dear,” he said as he took in every square inch of my face—staring closely, as if he were examining me.

I felt Morgan clutch my side tightly as excitement must’ve been rushing through her—the adrenaline making her
breathe heavier and faster. Nothing like this had ever happened to us, and now one of the biggest stars in the world had noticed us—not that I wanted him to.

“Nice to see you again,” he said with a smile before one of his people carted him away.

He looked back at me one last time before turning around and walking inside the venue. He must’ve had the wrong person. I’ve never, and I would definitely remember if I had, seen or met him before. Did I just look like somebody he knew? It was possible, considering he had likely met thousands upon thousands of people during his career. They say everybody has a doppelganger out there, so it made sense that I just looked like some other girl out there that he’d met.

“What the hell
, Chloe! You never told me you met Kurt before!” Morgan exclaimed as she tossed her arms up in the air.

“I haven’t, I swear! I don’t know what he’s talking about,” I explained with a clear voice.

“Well, you’re lucky anyway. The Sexiest Man Alive just gave you some attention, and I am
definitely
telling everybody I know,” Morgan said with a smile.

Before I could reply, a woman’s voice came over some speakers, telling everybody that the premiere was close to starting and if you ha
d a pass to please precede inside to be seated. The herd of people, which included VIPs and random media members trotted inside with small steps as the venue lobby was completely overrun with bodies.

After fifteen minutes
, we were finally seated far on the upper level, the nosebleed section, for the movie that was on a very large screen below. Even with its immense size, I knew we weren’t really going to be watching a movie. There was no way we would be able to make out what was happening, and I was a little pissed that I now had to sit through a two-hour movie from this height.

•••

“Well, wasn’t that fun,” I said as the movie had ended and I stood up to stretch.

“Oh hush, it wasn’t
that
bad,” Morgan said, trying to rationalize our seats.

Ushers on either side of the aisles corralled us all out
, as I looked down below and tried to make out the sexy and mysterious celebrities. I saw them all, just barely, but my attention was soon taken by Kurt, who I saw in the front row mingling with some of the costars in his new movie. He didn’t see me, obviously at my ridiculous height above, but I saw him, and I wondered what it all meant. It had to just be a mistake, and I knew letting it all go and moving on with my life was the best thing to do. Who knew, maybe it would make a good story one day.