Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Liam

A fter getting off the train with Jack, I strolled to a nearby coffee shop since I hadn’t had time to get my caffeine fix before we left this morning. The coffee shop was buzzing with people, but I was barely aware of it. I stared intently at my FantasyFans dashboard. Forty-seven subscribers. Forty-seven people willing to pay for… well, me. The number was tiny compared to the big creators I’d seen online, but it was growing. That little uptick gave me a rush. But no matter how much I zoomed in on that number, it still wouldn’t pay the rent or fix all my problems.

I leaned back, taking a slow sip of coffee, and let myself sit with it—the fact that I, Liam Murphy, had made five videos. Five videos of myself doing things I’d never in a million years thought I’d be showing strangers. Every time I posted, I felt that pit of nerves, like I was crossing some line that I couldn’t uncross. If my parents ever caught wind of this… yeah, I’d just drop dead. Instant, self-inflicted heart attack, courtesy of family shame.

Still, here I was. I couldn’t just sit back and wait for the numbers to magically climb. I was new to this whole adult-content business, and I knew it’d take more than a few “hello, world” posts to make a real go of it. So I opened up my contacts and scrolled down to Laura’s number. She’d been on my mind since I got started on this, a real pro with a following I could only dream about. If anyone could teach me the ropes, it was her. I tapped out a message.

Hey, got a sec?

Moments later, her response pinged back.

Hey Liam! How’s business?

I laughed under my breath. That was Laura—straight to the point. I typed back:

Growing, but not nearly fast enough. Can we meet up to chat?

She started typing right away, and a second later her reply flashed on the screen:

Sure! Free this afternoon?

I felt that pulse of relief. Just knowing I’d have someone to talk to who got this world—who didn’t see it as a joke or a shameful secret—made the whole thing feel easier. I typed out a quick reply.

Yes. Give me the time and place and I’ll be there.

The address Laura sent me had to be wrong. I stared up at the imposing brick building, its neat Gothic arches and painted sign reading Sisters of Charity Convent. This was definitely not what I expected when I asked her to help me with my FantasyFans business.

I stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, clutching my phone. Seriously, a convent? Reflexively, I crossed myself—a habit I hadn’t kicked, despite ditching the faith years ago. It didn’t make me feel better.

I rechecked our messages.

Meet me at 6301 Riverdale Ave. There’s a pub nearby and we can grab a beer and chat.

Yep. I was in the right place. And still absolutely baffled.

The heavy wooden door creaked open, and I froze, half-hoping I’d imagined it. But no, there she was: Laura, striding out with her usual confidence, a black garment bag slung over her shoulder. And beside her—because of course there was a twist—a nun.

I stared as the two of them made their way down the front steps. Laura spotted me first and waved, her grin a little too amused for my liking. The nun, on the other hand, was all calm and grace, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

When they reached me, Laura pulled me into a quick hug. “You made it! Liam, this is my sister, Sister Mary Grace.”

“Sister Mary Grace?” I repeated dumbly, turning to the nun.

She smiled and extended a hand, which I shook automatically. “Laura’s told me so much about you,” she said warmly.

I blinked, utterly lost. Her sister is a nun? That piece of information felt impossible to reconcile with the woman who dominated and humiliated men for a living.

“Uh, nice to meet you,” I managed, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

Sister Mary Grace chuckled, a sound that would probably lull babies to sleep. “I’m glad Laura has such good friends.” She turned back to Laura. “Anyway, I’ll see you at Mom and Dad’s next month. Don’t forget to bring that back by then.” She gestured to the garment bag.

Laura nodded, looking suspiciously innocent. “Of course. Thanks again, Mary.”

The nun gave me one last smile before heading back inside the penguin house.

I turned to Laura, who was already smirking. “What the hell just happened?” I hissed.

She shrugged, looping an arm through mine and steering me toward the corner. “Relax, it’s no big deal. She’s my sister. She knows what I do, and no, she doesn’t care.”

I couldn’t decide if I was more scandalized or impressed. “Wait. She knows?”

Laura grinned wickedly. “Obviously, she doesn’t want details. Mary just knows I’m resourceful.” She patted the garment bag for emphasis. “Speaking of which, this is going to kill in my next shoot.”

My brain screeched to a halt as the implication hit me. “That’s a nun’s habit, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice a strangled whisper.

“Technically, her habit,” Laura confirmed, utterly unbothered.

My face burned. I couldn’t even process what that meant. Before I could embarrass myself further, she yanked me into an Irish pub a few doors down. The familiar scent of beer, wood polish, and fried food hit me like a warm blanket, and I exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.

“This is better,” I muttered, sliding onto a barstool. The place looked almost identical to my parent’s pub in Boston.

Laura laughed, flagging down the bartender. “You’re such a boy scout. Two IPAs, please.”

I gave her a sidelong glance as she plopped the garment bag onto the stool beside her. She caught my look and raised an eyebrow.

“What? You said you wanted advice, didn’t you?”

I sighed, shaking my head. “I’m questioning my life choices.”

“Good. That means you’re on the right track.” She winked as the bartender set down our beers. Laura took a sip of hers and set the glass down, her sharp eyes fixed on me. “So, business. How’s it going?”

I sighed, pulled out my phone, and opened the FantasyFans dashboard. Turning the screen toward her, I muttered, “This is where I’m at.”

She leaned in, her lips twitching into a grin. “Well, well. That’s exactly where I was when I first started.” She sat back and folded her arms, clearly impressed. “You’ve got what it takes, Liam, but if you want this to grow, you need to broaden your appeal.”

I groaned, scrubbing a hand down my face. “What else do I have to do? I’m posting consistently, and I’m trying to… you know, be creative.”

Laura plucked the phone right out of my hand. “Let’s take a look.”

My stomach flipped. “Wait—”

Too late. She was scrolling through my content, her thumb moving at an infuriatingly slow pace. My face turned beet red as I realized what she was seeing: picture after picture of me in various states of undress, plus the videos that left very little to the imagination.

“You’ve got to get used to the fact that people see you naked,” Laura mumbled, not even glancing up.

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died in my throat when she tapped on a video. Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of my voice groaning filled the air.

“Oops! Let me turn that down,” Laura said with a smirk, lowering the volume but continuing to watch the clip.

I grabbed my pint and gulped down half of it in one go. The beer landed in my gut like a lead balloon, but at least it gave me something to do other than die of embarrassment.

Laura said nothing as she scrolled through my work, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched so long that I started to sweat. Finally, she handed the phone back to me and leaned against the bar, sipping her drink like we’d just been discussing the weather.

“So,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “What do I have to do to take this to the next level?”

Laura tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied me. “You’re very easy on the eyes, Liam, I’ll give you that. But your content?” She waggled her hand in the universal meh gesture. “Boring.”

I frowned, feeling a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “Boring? How?”

“It’s vanilla,” she said bluntly. “And vanilla will only get you so far. If you really want to make the big bucks, you need to broaden your horizons.” She leaned in like she was sharing a trade secret. “You need someone to make videos with.”

I recoiled, nearly knocking over my pint. “You mean… have sex with someone? On camera?”

Laura shrugged, utterly unfazed. “Yes. There’s only so many times people will watch you, alone, doing your thing. They want something new, something different. Bring in another guy, let your subscribers see you in action, and I guarantee your business will take off.”

I shook my head, my face burning. “You don’t have sex with anyone in your videos.”

“That’s because I don’t need to,” she shot back, lifting her glass for a triumphant sip. “Plus, I always have someone to punish or humiliate. You? You’ve positioned yourself as the naked toy boy. If you didn’t want to get naked with someone else, you should’ve branded yourself as a Dom. But you didn’t.”

I dropped my face into my hands and groaned. “How am I supposed to find a guy to make videos with? It’s not like I can put up a help-wanted ad in the Times.”

Laura giggled, the sound bright and irritatingly smug. “Have you read the personals in the Times? Plenty of freaks out there, Liam. Pay them enough, and they’ll do whatever you want.”

I peeked at her through my fingers, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow me.

Before I could say anything, she snatched my phone out of my hands again. “Hey!”

“Shh.” She waved me off, her fingers flying over the screen.

I watched her warily as she opened X (Twitter) and started scrolling, her brow furrowed in concentration. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for solutions.”

Her focus was unnerving. I gulped the rest of my pint, trying to ignore the tight knot forming in my stomach. Finally, she smirked and turned the screen toward me.

The profile she’d pulled up featured a grinning, shirtless guy flexing in front of a mirror. His username read BIGSTEVEXXX, and his bio was even worse: Hungry, submissive otter, professional slut. Looking for men to make videos with. DM me.

I stared at the screen, horrified. “Laura, are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” She grinned and tapped the screen. “See? He’s local, and there are plenty of others like him around here. Just scroll through X, or check out the FantasyFans subreddit on Reddit. That’s where I find most of my co-stars.”

I slumped in my seat, my pint glass dangling from limp fingers. Laura might have been amused, but I felt like I’d wandered into an alternate dimension.

Laura scrolled some more, her fingers gliding over the screen. She paused, her face lighting up. “You live on Long Island, right?”

I nodded cautiously. “Yeah, why?”

“Look at this.” She shoved the phone toward me, her grin widening. “Here’s a cute guy named @Monster69. He’s got that whole innocent vibe going on, like you, and he says he lives on Long Island too. Hit him up, and I bet that’ll solve your problem.”

I hesitated, but took the phone. The profile she’d pulled up showed a guy with a preppy look: clean-cut, muscular, and wearing a fitted polo shirt that hinted at a gym routine I could only dream of keeping up with. He had dark blonde hair, perfectly styled, and sea-green eyes that practically glowed through the screen. His bio read: Looking for someone nearby to make content with. Let’s collaborate.

I stared at his picture longer than I probably should have, trying to imagine what it would even be like to message someone like him, let alone… work with him.

“See?” Laura nudged me with her elbow, pulling me out of my thoughts. “He’s hot, and he’s local. What more could you ask for?”

I was about to argue when Laura’s eyes suddenly widened, and her grin turned mischievous. “You know…” She leaned in, her voice dropping like she was about to reveal a juicy secret. “He kind of looks like Jack.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

She ignored my protest; her smile turning devilish. “Hey! Why don’t you just make videos with Jack?”

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the subway platform as I leaned against a pillar, staring at my phone. Manhattan buzzed with its usual energy above me, but down here, it felt like time slowed, every minute dragging as I waited for Jack. I yanked off the tie I’d put on this morning and stuffed it in my jacket pocket. Jesus, I was so sick of dressing up every day for my imaginary job.

I flicked my thumb across the screen and opened my bank app, dreading what I’d see. The numbers stared back at me, stark and unchanging. I groaned, shoving my free hand through my hair. It didn’t matter how much I crunched the math—my severance and unemployment wouldn’t stretch far enough. Rent was coming up fast, and I didn’t even want to think about the electric bill.

Laura’s words played on a loop in my head. “Find someone to make videos with.”

I shook my head and tapped over to X, bringing up the profile she’d shown me earlier: @Monster69. His sea-green eyes stared back at me from his profile picture, confident and inviting, and I wondered what it would be like to work with someone like him. Preppy. Polished. Professional. The complete opposite of the mess I felt like inside.

The platform filled up as the next train approached, the screech of metal wheels echoing through the tunnel. I stared at his bio again: Looking for someone nearby to make content with. Let’s collaborate.

My chest felt tight as I thumbed over to the message button. Could I really do this? Was this who I was now? I took a deep breath, my fingers shaking slightly as I typed out the message.

I live on Long Island and am interested in making content with you for my FantasyFans. Interested?