Chapter Seven

Kira’s reading glasses slid down her nose when she turned to check a message notification on her phone.

They were overly large, horn-rimmed frames which Gina jokingly called granny glasses, warning her never to wear them on stream unless she wanted to spark a new fetish in her already rabid fans.

The lenses reduced eye strain during prolonged screen time, and she was plugging away at her monthly budget spreadsheet.

Still, Kira could admit, they made her look quite owlish, like a particularly skanky librarian. But she was an independent businesswoman who managed her own finances since reputable accountants didn’t accept blowjobs as payment.

They weren’t tax-deductible.

Though if her earnings continued as they had that month, she could easily afford the services of a legitimate bean counter.

Which was why the ebony-skinned ex-stripper almost leapt out of her chair when she spotted the sender’s name.

MrGigaCock: Hey. Sorry 2 bug. Got a sec?

“OMG… Lance! It’s finally happening. This is not a drill!” Kira nearly launched the phone across the room in her excitement. “Crap, what am I wearing? How’s my hair?”

She rushed to the bathroom mirror, snatching up a brush before catching herself and rereading the text.

Her hunky repairman hadn’t followed with a request for nudes, pinged her for video-call sex, or even sent a cheeky dick pic.

How disappointing.

Sighing, Kira reminded herself that regular folks didn’t live the sex worker lifestyle twenty-four-seven, and her college-aged stallion was essentially a sweet summer child who’d barely popped his porn cherry.

Thumbs trembling, she sent back:

MsBubblez: Anything 4 da plumber who snaked my pipes so good.

Kira added a snake emoji, several splash emojis, and a line of peaches interspersed with eggplants. After a brief moment of hesitation, she also added an Italian plumber emoji before hitting send.

Then she waited.

And waited.

The message signalled read. Then… nothing.

Kira fidgeted nervously, worried she’d come across too strong. Rushing back to her computer, she opened Snype and called Gina.

The irrepressible redhead answered immediately.

She sprawled in her gaming chair, outrageous curves crammed into a too-small Asian schoolgirl uniform—plaid skirt hiked up, blouse unbuttoned to bare her big braless tits, and cat-ear headphones tilted on her head, with stockinged feet braced on the desk edge.

She clutched a massive black dildo, thrusting it in and out of her exposed pussy while staring cross-eyed at the camera, tongue lolling as drool dappled her chin.

Gina’s ahegao face was the stuff of internet legend.

“Caught you at a bad time?” Kira asked, thighs already clenching at the sight.

“Nah, girlfriend, we’re good.” Gina moaned in a high-pitched anime girl impression. “Private show. This John don’t speak English. We can chat so long as I squeal ani-san now and then.”

She drew the Japanese word out in an exaggerated, whorish gasp, twisting the toy deeper while batting innocent lashes at the camera.

Kira had to hand it to her—zero tells. If not for the conversation, no viewer would suspect their chat. Hell, she was already mesmerized, one hand slipping under her Lycra miniskirt.

“Ohhh, mm-hmm…” Gina writhed prettily. “So what’s up?”

The question snapped Kira out of her horny trance. Waving her phone, she pointed madly at the screen.

“He messaged me back! I think he wants to talk.”

“Babe, I’m doing the cross-eyed bit right now. Can’t read a damn thing.” Gina babbled through slack lips, sounding seconds from climax. “Ah—ani-san! Who wants to talk?”

“Lance!” Kira insisted, shaking the phone again as if it would help.

“Who?”

“The horse-cocked repair guy!”

Gina’s ditzy-slut persona instantly evaporated. Bolting upright, she rocketed forward to jab at her keyboard, wearing an alarmingly intense expression.

A few tense seconds passed before she relaxed, sitting back with a saccharine grin, wiping the spittle from her chin.

“There, he’s gone. Blamed my internet provider. Now, tell me everything.”

Kira noted her friend didn’t seem too bothered about the aborted stream. Nor did she cover her exposed tits.

The dildo hadn’t made a reappearance either.

Presumably, the plus-sized sex toy remained securely lodged where she’d last seen it.

Despairing at the shameless redhead’s antics, Kira was about to reply when her phone blinged again. She quickly read the message aloud.

MrGigaCock: Shits getting weird. Don’t know who 2 talk 2. U free?

Gina’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a cry for help, darlin’. You ready to ride into battle to rescue your big-dick beau?”

“It’s not like that,” Kira protested, pressing the phone to her bosom. “You haven’t met him. He’s… sweet. A perfect gentleman—”

“Till you bag him and tag him,” Gina drawled in full skeptical Southerner mode. “Then he transforms into a sexual superman, right? At least that’s your story.”

Kira shot her a glare.

Jealous much?

Gina caught the look and quickly backpedaled. “Hey, just pokin’, babe. No harm meant.” She appeared almost sheepish. “Tell you what—invite him over for a friendly chat. Zero expectations, no strings. Sounds like the boy needs a sympathetic ear, yeah?”

Kira hesitated. “Go on…”

“Then I’ll crash the powwow. Between us, we’ll sort whatever’s got Mr Hunky twisted up. Easy.” Gina’s grin turned sly. “Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

Her hands drifted below the desk as she spoke, grey-green eyes sparkling deviously. Kira had seen that look before. Her friend was plotting mischief.

She raised a warning finger. “Gina. I’ve got a good feeling about this one. I don’t need you scaring him off.”

“Me? Scary? Well, I never.”

The redhead’s pretended offense would’ve been more convincing if her hands were still out of view. Instead, her cheeks flushed as she wriggled excitedly on the screen.

“I mean it!” Kira reiterated. “No funny business.”

“Not a bit, darlin’. My word on it.” Gina’s tone was all sunshine, but the wet slorp-slorp sounds leaking through the Snype call told a different story. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, then added brightly, “Hmmm… well, don’t leave the poor boy hanging. Young men are such flighty creatures. Text him back already!”

Kira tried to ignore the symphony of lewd noises and half-swallowed whimpers coming from her laptop. She stared at her phone instead, thumbs hovering, suddenly paralyzed.

Sure, she knew exactly how to make a man’s knees buckle from thirty feet away.

Certainly, she possessed an encyclopedic knowledge of kinks—how to tease them out, how to weaponize them, how to leave someone shaking and begging with little more than a saucy innuendo.

Both her mind and body were finely tuned sexual instruments, honed over years of stripping and private shows until she could arouse a potential partner with a carefully calculated gesture or turn of phrase.

Heck, Kira could suck the chrome off a tow bar, then walk into Sunday mass in a demure sundress, looking so sinfully sexy that the most chastened priest would pop wood. Zero effort required.

But in that moment–despite a lifetime monopolized by sex, ardently devoted to carnal lust–her greatest shortcoming, her most shameful secret, was cruelly revealed.

Kira Bubblez was a novice in the realms of dating and romance.

She clung to her phone like a drowning woman to a flotation device, turning a pleading gaze back to her friend.

“What should I say?”

Gina’s reply came in a series of self-satisfied mewls interspersed with giddy giggles.

“No fear, g-girlfriend… ahhh! Just tell him this…”

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