Page 3 of Chasing My Bliss (Behind The Lens #6)

Felicity

O kay, it’s just me, an empty room with clean sheets, my laptop and whoever decides to watch me.

Am I seriously about to do this?

I was confident I could pull this off after getting the tour from Lorna.

She gave me a pep talk and some pointers that could get me a lot of subscribers and increase what I make.

I’ve practiced a few times, just recording myself as I pretend to put on a show, so that I could watch myself.

Learn from my mistakes and make corrections.

But tonight, it’s the real deal and I’m having second thoughts.

If only I could tape and edit it, maybe then I wouldn’t be so nervous.

But I guess that defeats the point—interacting with my viewers is how to get subscribers and bring the money in.

I’m about to put myself out there for God knows how many people to watch. I’m going to be naked. Not completely at first. But I’ve done enough research to know that being naked and engaging in something sexual is what’s going to make me money.

I take a deep breath, needing to calm my nerves.

A sharp knock on the door causes me to startle, nearly tripping as I make my way to the door.

I thought that since I reserved the room, I wouldn’t be interrupted.

Not for the next four hours, anyway. The knock sounds again and I open it just slightly. The person on the other side shocks me.

“Lorna.”

“Hey, Felicity. I just stopped by to wish you luck and remind you that you have it. Just take a breath before you go live and have fun. You can fill the time by chatting with your viewers and asking them what they want to see. It takes out some of the guesswork for you.”

“I just hope I don’t make a total fool of myself.” Passing out while I’m live and having people watch as I drool would do just that.

“Even if you do, you’re wearing a mask, so you have nothing to worry about.

” She pauses for a moment before opening her mouth.

“It’s going to be fine. If you decide this isn’t what you want to do, you can always quit.

No harm, no foul.” Lorna crosses her arms over her chest as she leans against the doorjamb.

“You still have your job at the diner in case you change your mind. Remember, that’s why you decided not to quit right away. ”

I don’t know what to say. She’s right. When I talked to her earlier, I made it clear that I wanted to work around my shifts at the diner for the time being.

It is a safety net for me, especially since I’m not sure this is something I can do, much less long-term for the next two years until I graduate.

“You got this. Have some fun,” she sing-songs to me before turning and heading off down the hallway.

I got this. Yep. God, I hope I do, because right now I don’t feel like it.

My eyes scan the room again, running down each of the items like it’s on a checklist.

Bed, check. Laptop, check. Lighting, check.

Books, check. Suckers, check. My eyes drift down to what I’m wearing.

Christ, I look like I should be in that Britney Spears music video, but check.

Mask, check. Picking up my emerald green and black Mardi Gras mask, I put it on, tying the ribbon behind my head.

“Felicity, you can do this. You’re going to become Bliss and entertain like no one has ever done before,” I mumble to myself. At least, I hope I do. Shit, what if my mask falls off while I’m knocked out and someone I know is watching and they recognize me?

Fuck, this is moving more in the no way you can fucking do it category with each passing minute.

My fingers hover over the keyboard, cold and trembling.

The laptop sits on the desk like a lead weight, giving the perfect view of the bed and my pending show, which hopefully isn’t an epic fail.

Or do I want it to be? If it is,then I’ll never have to do this again, considering the money I could make from it.

I stare at the little button in the corner— Go Live —like it might bite me.

My heart’s already racing and I haven't even done anything yet. The little pointer hovering over the ‘Go Live’ button like a beacon to a ship in foggy weather at sea.

I take a deep breath; the only way to get over the nerves of this is to just do it. With my mind made up, I click the button.

The screen blinks, a little swirl showing it’s loading, and then suddenly I’m on. Streaming. Live . The tiny green dot lights up next to it, a signal that there is no turning back.

Holy fucking shit! My heart races and I remember to smile. It’s awkward, forced, but I do it.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, nervously smoothing the very short skirt I’m wearing, an unfamiliar image of my reflection on the screen. I’m waiting patiently for people to be alerted to me being online, or choosing to click on my site over the others at Behind the Lens.

I run my hand along the navy blue comforter, seeking some type of calming support from it.

The softness of it quiets my mind, ridding it of my anxiousness.

My bookbag is right beside me, half-zipped, the corner of my Literature book peeking out like it wants to bail from this room as badly as I do.

My hands are sweaty and I rub them on my thighs before reaching out and grabbing the candy sucker from the side pocket of my bag.

The plan was to use it as a nervous crutch—a prop for when the viewers were watching, but I need it now.

Something sweet and harmless to hold on to while I figure out how to keep myself from totally panicking.

Which I am beginning to fail at preventing from happening.

There is no one watching. The view count sits at zero.

Good. Not good. I don’t know. All I feel like now is a failure, even though I was scared as shit to do this.

No one watching means no money. I could turn it off and leave right now, just chalk this up to a life experience.

Or do I stay and hope like hell someone stumbles across me?

If nothing else, at least I have a quiet place to study.

I glance at myself in the window. My hair looks okay.

My lips appear a little dry, so I lick them, then pop the sucker into my mouth.

Cherry. My favorite. I lean over, opening my bookbag more so that I can pull out my book.

The sound of the zipper’s movement is louder than it should be in the quietness of the room.

“Okay,” I mumble to no one, my voice low and weirdly shaky. “Let’s do some multitasking.”

I place the literature book on my lap and flip it open, my fingers brushing the dog-eared page. I need to finish reading The Yellow Wallpaper before tomorrow’s class, anyway.

I take a quick glance at the laptop. Still zero.

Then—one. Shit, holy hell, someone is watching me.

I stare at the number as it ticks up. Two. Three. Seven. Names start to slide into the side chat box.

RavenSin has joined .

DreamWatcher99 has joined.

BigBill1984: Hey .

I swallow around the sucker. My hand trembles a little as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Hey, guys.” My voice comes out shaky and low. “Uh…just doing some reading tonight. Thought I’d stream while I did it.”

The names keep coming. Ten. Twelve. Seventeen.

The messages start flowing in faster.

BigBill1984: What r u reading?

AlphaHeat: What’s up with the mask?

AlphaHeat: Take off ur shirt

I pop the sucker out of my mouth. “I’m reading The Yellow Wallpaper, Billie. Have you read it before?” Engage the viewers, Lorna said. Make them feel special.

Okay, maybe reading my Literature assignment on a live cam site isn’t the smartest move, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. And it’s not like The Yellow Wallpaper is some rare college-only read. Right?

My shirt? Was I ready for that? Should I ask for something?

“My shirt, AlphaHeat? Have you been a good boy?” Did I just say that? “The mask is to keep my identity a secret. Just like a superhero.” I wink, then place the sucker back in my mouth, slowly turning it as I pop my chest out.

I don’t know where the confidence is coming from—maybe adrenaline, maybe survival instinct—but it pours out of me like I’ve done this a hundred times.

TemptingTroy: Ur cute lol. Take off the mask and let me see your face.

TemptingTroy has subscribed to your channel.

AlphaHeat has subscribed to your channel.

Fuck me! Two subscribers. That means money. Donations and subscribing are how you make it, and I’ve made some. I’m not a complete failure.

HotHands69 has joined.

BiteTheBoss: Say my name babe

LustMechanic: Show us that smile

I laugh softly, but it isn’t really funny. I know to get more subscribers and to make money, I need to remove some clothing.

“BiteTheBoss, how did you come up with that name? Are you a biter?” Then I smile widely, and toss a wink to LustMechanic as if he was sitting right in front of me.

BiteTheBoss: I can if you want me to. What’s your name?

“Bliss,” I tell him. Lorna had suggested using a name that wasn’t my real one.

BigBill1984: Why are you reading that book?

I pick up the book in my lap. “It’s for class,” I tell them, shifting it so the title is visible in the frame.

“The Yellow Wallpaper. It’s kinda creepy, but super interesting.

A woman’s descent into madness... wallpaper patterns and metaphors, that whole thing.

I’ll let you know how I like it when I finish. ”

The chat keeps buzzing. I see emojis, a string of fire symbols, hearts, and a few messages I ignore because they’re just downright disgusting. It’s hard to keep up with all of them as more people join the chat. But it’s time for more.

ChainReactionX: Stand up and give a turn.

ChainReactionX: Let us see everything

I lay the book down on the bed and stand up, cocking my hip out to the side before slowly turning around. I don’t know what comes over me, but when I have my back to them, I bend over, giving them a prime view of my ass and the cherry red thong I’m wearing.

Once I’ve given them enough time to look, I turn around and sit back down on the edge of the bed. I am a little bit more confident that I can do this than when I started.

RoughPlayRay: Damn baby, that ass. Can I get your number?

“Sorry I can’t do that.” I give him a pouty lip, playing up that I’m really sorry I can’t.

BadBoyBane: Read it in a sexy voice, lol.

Reading. Hey, that's not too bad. Sexy voice; now that’s tricky. I take a deep breath, trying not to let the heat in my face take over. I tilt the book up and begin reading.

I read the first line, every part about being ordinary hitting me in the chest. The words feel stiff in my mouth, but I keep going, the cherry sucker tucked in one cheek as I read. I try not to watch the viewer count climb. Twenty-five. Thirty. Forty-two. More comments. Some nice. Some not.

I keep reading. The story boring me into exhaustion so I can only imagine what it’s doing for them. Lowering the book, I lean forward, my arms resting on top of it, pressing my boobs together.

I take hold of the stick, giving the sucker a spin while I think of what to do next.

“So…,” I glance up, “who’s actually read this before?”

BadBoyBane: Never heard of it.

ChainReactionX: Not me, lol.

BigBill1984: I’d rather hear you talk.

DomModeOn: You should take off some clothes.

I smile a little, tightly. “It’s worth a read. It’s short. But powerful. Kinda... haunting, honestly.” I begin to unbutton my shirt, letting it slip off my arms, before I drop it to the floor, leaving me in my red lacy bra.

BadBoyBane: Nice tits, take off the bra.

RavinSin has subscribed to your channel.

BadBoyBane has subscribed to your channel.

ChainReactionX has subscribed to your channel.

HotHands69 has subscribed to your channel.

One after the other, people are subscribing to my channel and I have yet to be completely nude or do anything sexual. I know it won’t last, but I am getting people’s attention and that feels good. Empowering.

I told myself this was for the money, but deep down I think I just want to feel seen—on my terms.

My heart is still pounding, but I am in it now. Live. Visible. Juggling literature and attention.

Holding on to my sucker like it is my armor as I keep talking, finding out what my viewers want, teasing them with what I’m willing to give for now. Somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach, I know this is only the beginning.

Holy shit. I’m a freaking cam girl.