Page 13 of Off Limits

“No, I don’t have Twitter,” I said, not bothering to call it by its new name because the entire app was a place I avoided like the plague. “I’m not on any social media. If you want updates for when I’m online, you can subscribe to my room and get anemail when I log on, or you can check out my monthly schedule in the photo gallery. Just click on the free photos option, and you’ll see it.” I paused as more chats scrolled by. Most were lewd comments, and a few were even lewder demands. It was time to log off.

“That’s all for me tonight.” I shot the camera another grin, making sure to keep my customer service face on. “Thanks for hanging out with me, and I’ll see you on Saturday at nine Eastern time.”

I waited a few seconds so my regulars could say goodbye in the chat, making sure to say goodbye to my big tippers, then logged out of my room and shut my laptop down with a weary sigh.

Tonight had been a good night for tips, and I’d made way more than my last show, but after almost forty minutes of edging myself to max out the tips, I was exhausted, and my dick wasn’t very happy with me.

Plucking my backward ball cap off, I tossed it on my desk and stood so I could take a shower and wash off not only the remnants of my show but also my day.

Not bothering with clothes, I made the quick trek to the bathroom naked. I’d spent the past eight years living with other people, and I loved the freedom of being able to walk around my apartment in the nude without having to worry about who might see me.

This was the first time since I was fifteen that I had my own space, and I’d rather eat glass than give it up and go back to living with a roommate.

Going from being an only child until I was fifteen to gaining a stepsibling and five half siblings in the span of six years hadn’t been an easy adjustment, and I’d craved my independence—and my space—ever since.

I finally had both, but I still held the irrational fear that they’d somehow be taken away from me and I’d end up right back where I was at eighteen when I left for college with nothing more than a dream and a scholarship.

Shaking my head, I stuck my hand under the spray to test the water.

I always got a little melancholy and introspective after a show. I had no clue why, but like the bone-deep cold thing, it wasn’t a big deal. Probably just another part of the adrenaline crash or whatever. It usually passed as soon as I got into a shower and had a chance to warm up and relax.

The water wasn’t quite at the right temperature yet, but I just cranked it a bit hotter and stepped into the tub, letting the water wash over me.

My apartment had a really nice bathroom, which was one of the main reasons I wanted to rent it. It had a huge soaker tub that could comfortably fit my six-foot frame and a fancy double shower head that was perfect for washing off a day at the gym. The fixtures were probably cheap but looked luxurious, and the focal point of the room was the sink. It was basically a slightly angled piece of stone that drained the water without anything spilling over, even though it seemed flat at first glance.

The rest of the apartment was pretty basic, but the building was in a good area, it was close to work, and it had all my utilities, a parking space, and a big storage locker included in my rent.

Since the building only had one- and two-bedroom apartments, most of the people who lived here were either young professionals or older people who kept to themselves, so it was quiet, which was a welcome change after so many years of living with other students.

The bedroom was a decent size with a big closet, and the den, which I was planning on using as my office when school started,had a big east-facing window that let in a ton of natural light. The kitchen was mid, but the appliances were only a few years old, and it had in-suite laundry, which was a rare find at this price point.

The other thing I loved about my apartment was the eclectic fireplace in the living room.

It was exactly the type of apartment I’d wanted when I decided to move home and continue my education at Rutherford instead of staying in the Midwest. Competition for places like this was high, but I’d lucked out and got accepted after my first application.

Tipping my head back, I closed my eyes and let the water soak into my hair. The one complaint I had about the building was that hot water didn’t last long, and I didn’t want to risk it running out before I had a chance to scrub myself clean.

When I was done, I shut off the water and grabbed a towel off the rack to dry off.

Since I hadn’t brought any clothes in with me, I wrapped the towel around my waist and hurried back into my room, the chilly air raising goosebumps on my skin as my mind spun with all the things I had to do in the next few days. Distracted, I pulled on a pair of sweats, some fuzzy socks, a tee, and an old hoodie.

Thursdays were my busiest day at work, and I still had a bunch of stuff I needed to do to prep for it. My first client came in at eight in the morning, and my last one was booked for seven at night. I also had to teach two group classes, fit in at least one workout on the floor, and spend a few hours behind the desk trying to convince people to sign up for personal training on top of the hours I had to spend with my clients.

Camming the night before wasn’t ideal, but Wednesdays were one of the best nights for tips after Saturday, at least for male cammers. Female cammers and couples did better onFridays and Mondays, and they could usually find a decent audience during the week no matter what day it was.

That was the only downside to camming for me. Being male meant my audience was limited to women and queer men. Most people who used cam sites were straight men. Women tended to tip more, but there were far fewer of them, and they usually stuck to the same rooms, unlike men, who seemed to prefer room hopping.

One thing I’d learned over the past few months was that people liked consistency, and being online regularly helped boost your room in the algorithm, which helped with visibility. I’d seen a huge improvement in my numbers since I’d implemented my schedule, and I did my best to stick to it so I wouldn’t lose my momentum.

When I was dressed, I scooped my phone off my desk and took it off do not disturb. A few notifications came in, but only one of them caught my attention.

Asa had texted me twenty minutes ago.

What the hell?

I couldn’t remember the last time he’d texted me.

Before I could stop myself, I opened the thread.

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