Read WEBCAM for Free Online Page B

the voyeurs who watched her, it was smart business sense to play nice.
    Kendal logged in as SHY1 and began to parse through the questions.
    BOFFA DEEZ: Shy, you ok?
    Watchdawg: wassup with the cancer, girl?
    Prsnal: Need Update!
    Unique NY: shy1 what was that call about? u say breast cancer?
    ALLEC2: r u scared?
    Free-mustache-rides: please tell us what is going on.
    Tuscon4evah: this sounds serious shy girl.
    Boffa deez: deets, plz!
    1rover1: you gonna get you titties squeezed?
    Allec2: what meds were you on?
    Kendal typed,
thx for caring, guys! I m sorta freaked out right now. I guess I’m gonna see the doc tomorrow.
    She watched as an outpouring of fake sympathy filled her screen. Or maybe it was real sympathy. Kendal had a hard time picturing actual people behind these screen names. They didn’t know who she was, or where she lived. She’d never meet any of them in person. For some weird, lonely, voyeuristic reason, they liked watching college girls. It wasn’t necessarily prurient. They watched the sisters surfing TV channels, and sleeping, and putting on make-up, and eating. Mundane, everyday, non-sexual stuff. Hildy, who let the subscribers watch her shower, mentioned that some users purposely logged off once she dropped her towel. They told her they were valuing her privacy, even though they stared at her while she clipped her toenails.
    Kendal didn’t get it. She understood porn. Horny guy sees sexual images and relieves himself. But what benefit was there watching a group of sorority girls do their homework? Where was the entertainment value in that?
    For some reason the thought of nameless, faceless dudes watching Kendal read a magazine was even creepier than nameless, faceless dudes whacking off while she exercised. These guys were paying to watch someone else’s life. Someone they’d never meet. It was bizarre.
    So Kendal dealt with it by not thinking of the subscribers as people. They were more like Tamagotchi to her. She had one of those virtual reality pets when she was a kid. It was a keychain with a digital dog on the screen, and she had to feed and play with it every few hours or it would die. Kendal never warmed up to the pretend animal—it died after a few days. She never warmed up to her subscribers, either. But imagining that they weren’t real made them easier to deal with. And the more she interacted, the more money she made.
    Her IM screen popped up. Instant messages could be read by her, but not by anyone else in the chat room. This one was from Allec2, a user she didn’t recognize.
    Allec2: would you do a private chat?
    Kendal answered that she didn’t do any sex stuff. He replied that he just had some specific, private questions. Since Kendal currently had eight paying clients in her room, she declined, saying she was too busy right now.
    After twenty or so minutes of broad chitchat about her health and well-being, faux sympathy, and bon mots about how much they cared, Kendal had gotten forty bucks in tips and was down to three subscribers still chatting. Allec2 was one of them, and he tipped her ten dollars, her computer making a cha-ching! sound.
    Allec2: how about now? Chat?
    Private chats paid ten times as much as regular chats. Kendal actually preferred them, as it was hard to keep up several conversations at once. She typed,
ok, as long as you don’t get perverted.
    She said goodbye to her other two clients, and went into a private chat room with Allec2.
    Shy1: so you finally got me all alone.
    Allec2: finally. How are you feeling?
    Shy1: still scared.
    Allec2: U R really young to need a mammogram.
    Shy1: they said I’m at a higher risk.
    Allec2: it runs in the family?
    Kendal didn’t know. It could have. Mom had left when she was young.
    Shy1: I was on meds.
    Allec2: anti psychotics?
    Shy1: yeah. I had some problems when I was younger.
    Allec2: sexual abuse?
    Kendal shivered. She pulled a blanket around her shoulders and slunk down in her desk chair.
    Shy1: I don’t want to