Challenge 02 - Heather and Monica

'Shake that ass, little bitch, prove you a ho'.

Monica knew the music was about thirty seconds from its end. She placed her hands back on her knees and began to push her tiring muscles into one last intensive round of twerking. She suddenly thought that if she moved her right hand marginally she could touch the bottom of her dress and break its contact with her thigh. The result would be inevitable. In this posture her dress would immediately ride up her body, expose her butt and pussy to he world. It all happened in a fraction of a second. Her hand did not move but the thought had taken her concentration and caused her to shift her right foot a fraction of an inch further out than it had been before. In that same instant she felt the material of her dress shift, the coolness of the air strike her newly-exposed skin. She felt the dress bunch around her hips before she could have reacted. Even if she had been so inclined to react. Hadn't she taken her bounty? Wasn't she required to complete her task?

So she did. She kept up her twerk with her now bare butt and pussy pointed right into the camera. She ignored her now half-naked condition and danced as if nothing had happened. Her members had earned their reward. Her subscribers had got what they had paid for. She didn't know how she would feel in the morning but just now she felt just great! When the music ended she gave two or three last deep twerks and then finally straightened up and turned back to her screen.

The numbers in the bottom corner of her screen told her that 44 members and 250 subs had watched her little show. She thought to herself that maybe she should have advertised. As the flurry of comments finally slowed she saw Harley post along similar lines.

'H - Remember, this fine piece of ass is back on Thursday and she'll be doing a repeat twerk. Spread the word cos you know how good this is.'

'She gonna be in the same dress?'

Monica had just about got her breath back after her exertions. She finally eased her dress back down over her hips and thighs before taking her seat and leaning into her mic.

"The same dress and the same music. I really loved that. Thank you so much 'HardBBC11forMonica.' Its great to have such talented and appreciative members. I really loved your lyrics - does anyone else know any similar songs. Lyrically I mean - those words sort of hit the spot." She giggled for them. "Make sure they are 'urban' - I'm developing a taste for all things 'urban' and please make sure they are all by Black artists. I can't be wasting my time on white boys."

Her members liked that too but a strange thing happened. After a few posts 'MonicaLover9' just typed.

'Challenge! Challenge! Challenge!"

Quickly the screen filled up with the same three words - each set accompanied by a different member name.

'H - I'm hearing you but remember this one is pretty much a newbie.'

'Yeah Harley but you never found a finer bitch than this one.'

'See her eyes through her mask when she finished dancing. She up for this.'

'Yeah she a natural. Get with the program Harley.'

'I been counting Harley - she got 42 requests for the challenge. Only ones not in is you and 'FlyGuy69'.

'What the fuck FlyGuy?'

FlyGuy69 responded. 'Fuck bro I was taking a dump. What happened?'

'Monica been flashing that booty and that sweet, sweet, pussy. She challenge material?'

'FFS. You frontin me? Get that chassy doin the challenge NOW.'

'How about it Harley - we up for this?'

'H - Enjoy the shows for the rest of the month. Then we'll see. Anyone want to nominate Monica then let me know - any subs feeling like being a sponsor for our girl here then do the same.'

It felt a little weird to sit there and just watch the words scroll up her screen - discussing her. Being the only child of the Cameron fortune meant that since she had become an adult she had never really been anything but totally in control of her lifestyle and choices. That would not really change now. She could turn her cam off right now and never return to it. She could refuse to follow her members' suggestions at any time. Most of them thought that she was a penniless student but nothing could have been further from the truth. At the end of the day she was never going to be forced to do anything that she wasn't ready to do.

She knew that. She knew that but...

It was exciting watching the men talk about her. It was intoxicating - that was the word she had to keep coming back to. She had drunk alcohol and had once smoked from a joint, though otherwise drugs had never been of interest to her. Those were supposed to be intoxicants but they had nothing on this. Was it weak of her? The fact that these men's attention and approval gave her such pleasure. The fact that she derived such satisfaction from bringing them pleasure. It was really a very new experience for her. Her experience with her past boyfriends had certainly not prepared her for it.

Tonight's time was up. After closing her show she usually waited to see if Harley would post her some 'notes' or a comment. Tonight, however, she had something to ask.

"Harley - when are you planning on telling me about this Challenge?"

'Not sure I was - but tonight I saw something in that performance there. A performer has either got it or she hasn't. You have surely got it. You know they got a Discord?'

That made sense.

'Well a certain hot little piece has been getting a lot of attention over there. After tonight she'll be getting a whole lot more. You'll see what I mean. But don't let them rush you. This is like a fisherman with his line in the water. You got to play the lure a little to make sure of the catch. Like a fine meal prepared by a five-star chef. You want to savour every moment, every texture, every flavour and then you want to come back for more.'

Which was all very well but was she supposed to be the fisherman, the lure or the catch?

A new message appeared. 'I been hanging fire. Generally you would accept the Challenge and then I'd wait to get 50 sponsors to cover expenses. Just that with you I know I'd get them quick as snapping my fingers. Things are good - why rush? That's my thinking. But maybe others ain't so patient.'

'"So when are you going to tell me?" She repeated with a smile.

'Let me think on it'

***

'I was particularly impressed by your section on the various festivals and their impact on inter-ethnic commerce. The potential benefits and tensions were sensitively and intelligently explored. Aside from the minor corrections that I outlined earlier then I am happy to proceed on this basis." Professor Solon inevitably paused to push his spectacles back up his long beak of a nose. Yet again Heather wondered why he didn't get a pair that fitted properly.

"Have you made any progress in establishing sources for the main thrust of your researches?" A pair of bushy grey eyebrows shot up as the Professor scrutinised her across the video-link. "Also, are you happy to retain the original timetable because I am happy to transfer your research programme to my institution now if that would be convenient."

Heather felt a thrill of pride. Praise from Professor Solon was something to be cherished. The confirmation that she would be accepted as an external scholar of his prestigious Oxford institute was not a surprise but was still very exciting. Very necessary too - her new studies would certainly not be approved of by her current all-female base. Her cam activities would impress them even less if they ever suspected them. It was just as well that she had lived a little off campus since graduating.

"I feel that I have established a good working rapport with my source H. He is already giving me an invaluable insight into his world. I am still working on establishing my credentials with regards to other performers in this particular area of business."

"Tell me Miss Cameron, would you regard them as your sources of information or would you regard them as 'fellow performers?'" The Professor had picked up on her wording.

"I... I, I'm not sure. I started doing this as a means to an end but I... I'm not sure how to say it." She had never met Professor Solon in person, only over these video links. She didn't know how to express how she felt. Could she tell him about Monica, about the persona that she adopted, no - that she became, when she was performing?

"What you thought was a necessary evil has perhaps turned out to be less than a chore." The Professor's eyebrows shot up again. "I think that is indeed fortunate. I suspect that workers in this field have a finely-tuned, how do you Americans put it, 'nose for bullshit.'" Solon chuckled and his glasses slid down his own nose yet again. "The more authentic you are the more successful I suspect that you will be. The more able to represent a generally unrepresented and ignored community. You are doing splendid work Miss Cameron. Keep it up and we will talk again."

***

She had practised a little between her performances. The dress was not entirely reliable but by show-time she was reasonably confident in her ability to control it. Just the right flex of her back and twitch of her buttock could send the dress sliding slowly up her body in a very pleasing reveal. From the first time that she had managed it she had just known how her audience would love it. With practise she knew that the effect could be reproduced effectively at will.

Meanwhile she had another cause for relief that she no longer actually lived on the campus. Her audience had been sending her music tracks, via Harley. Certainly not the sort of music you necessarily wanted to share with a room-mate. The performers certainly were not shy about saying what they liked and what they wanted. A little like her members! She carefully selected two with an appropriate tempo and lyrics for her next performances.

They went as well as she had hoped. Her new little trick secured a gloriously well-timed 'reveal' on the Thursday show. The next was a little less controlled since her dress scooted up to her hips during the first track. It hardly mattered. She danced on and her men loved it.

By the end of the third show the figures in the corner of her screen read 244/4572. That took a little getting used to! She had no idea that the network was so large. There were thousands paying money to be part of this? Paying just to see her and others like her. Paying in the knowledge that they could not interact? It was quite something. The other figure was lower but perhaps meant more. Harley had told her that the members were carefully screened and selected. There were never more than 300 American members. That 244 had chosen to watch her show was a real boost to her confidence. These men were true connoisseurs in their field.

Things calmed down a little over the next couple of weeks. She performed her three cam-shows every seven days and each week collected a parcel sent to the College porter's office. The first week featured a new work-out outfit. It didn't reveal anything but it certainly did not hide her curves. She felt sexy while able to suggest that her past more revealing performance had been an accident or a one-off. Something told her that her audience didn't believe that, she certainly saw enough comments to prove that they hoped that it was not true.

She tended to time her collection of her parcels for the early evening. It just seemed more appropriate that she collected them from George Fitch, the only African-American who she actually came into semi-regular contact with in real life. He, of course, had no idea what was contained in the parcels that he handed over every week.

"Not such a big parcel tonight Miss Cameron." Indeed it was quite small. She knew the gifts each week had been selected by her members and purchased by her subs. Of course the size of the parcel did not necessarily reveal its value - or its interest. Heather gave George a smile and a pleasant 'thank-you', she believed in being polite and knew that not all the student body followed suit, especially where George was concerned. So she was always careful to show the Night Porter the respect that every person deserved.

When she got back to her place she opened the package and saw its sole contents. A lace mask and a note.

'Up to you. H.'

She went to her mirror and put the mask on. It covered about an inch above and below her eyes, but being lace it did not cover even that area completely. Looking into her mirror she could clearly see that it was herself looking back. However, the lace did disguise her to some extent. Only someone who knew her well would be able to identify her. No-one who had seen her in this mask would then immediately identify her in the real world. It still just about protected her anonymity but did so in a far less obvious way. Just about. Wearing this mask increased the risk of being caught out - not by much but it undeniably did. Looking at her wearing it anyone would believe that if they looked in just the right way they would see her clearly. She felt a little thrill of excitement run through her.

***

She wore her new mask for her next show. It was actually much more convenient because it moulded to her face better and was held by light elastic loops on her ears rather than having straps tied around her head. It was also lighter and she liked the fact that the lace of the mask was black. It accentuated the contrast with her own skin-tone and blatantly emphasized how much of her face could be seen beneath it. The more she saw herself on screen in it the more she preferred her new mask.

She was not alone in that. Her members preferred it to - though she knew they wanted the mask gone altogether. Harley said most performers started with a mask but most dropped it after a while. After their bank accounts had padded so far they reasoned that they could afford any identification and resultant damage to career prospects.

Heather had been very practical. She had set up a separate bank account with a minimal deposit and had made sure her cam payments were forwarded there. She wasn't quite sure what she would do with it since money had never been an issue for her and was frankly never likely to be. However, it had surprised her quite how much money had come in. She had expected perhaps a few hundred dollars to accumulate but it had rapidly moved into the thousands. It seemed she was rather good at this - it was really quite flattering in a way. Perhaps that was why she had decided not to press Harley about the contacts she needed for her researches. Not just yet.

Instead after a couple of weeks in the new mask she decided to approach him on another issue.

"Harley - are you ever planning on letting me know about the Challenge?"

There was a pause on the other end of the phone-line and then he spoke. "I like to let the momentum build behind a performer before she goes there. We're getting close but I reckoned we could still make a little more before we stepped it up. After all, you ain't even done an unboxing on camera yet. Maybe we'll see how that goes."

***

This box had been large and with a distinctive lion-head print on one side of it. It was clearly from a firm down in H-Town that Harley had reused. George had even offered to carry it for her but she had declined. She was, after all, about forty years younger than him and after all her training she might even be stronger.

She was a little annoyed with herself that she hadn't thought about unboxing on camera before. An issue with the shows was that you had to keep them fresh. Repeating a show across the week was OK but if you just kept doing the same thing then it only stood to reason that people would lose interest. In fact, she would lose interest. Doing her shows was exciting and invigorating, it scratched a performing itch that she had always had but seldom been able to satisfy. It also, though she knew it was shallow to admit it, really felt good. Knowing that her members enjoyed watching her - knowing that her members found her desirable, found her sexy. She didn't want that feeling to go away, she didn't want this to become routine or worse a chore. Changing outfits or routines helped a little but she was always looking for something fresh and unboxing was so obvious. How had she missed it!

It fitted into her show really well too. After a vigorous dance to 'Junk in the Trunk' and 'Whooty turned out' she was frankly happy to get a sit down and she placed the box on a table in front of the camera. Standing to its side and also on camera she unsealed the box and then lifted its lid. First out were some packing materials and then a package from a boutique Philadelphia chocolate store. She remembered mentioning them as a favorite. Underneath one box of bonbons was another of their delicious strawberry lemonade truffles. She blew the camera a kiss and thanked the anonymous donor.

Next up was an outfit. It seemed to be a nurse's outfit but she suspected that it wouldn't be acceptable uniform at any working hospital. A glance told her that this one would be showing enough leg and cleavage to make her a serious risk around any male patient with a weak heart. She would see how it looked on her and hopefully it would be good for a future show. Once again she smiled at the camera and thanked her donor.

Beneath it was a smaller package containing what could only be described as three postage-stamp sized pieces of material. She couldn't help laughing as she flourished them at the camera.

"Wow guys, I mean these are tiny. If I'm wearing these I might as well not be wearing anything." She paused and read their responses. Seemed they'd settle for the latter if she didn't like her new gift. She raised her eyebrows and gave a little shrug. "Well I've got to confess I've never really been one for bikinis let alone this kind of, er, micro. You guys wouldn't really want to see me in this would you?" That gave her a couple of minutes to read their comments and respond. That was fun - it always was. Her members were nothing if not direct in stating what they liked and what they wanted. At the moment that was apparently 'her' on both counts. It might be shallow of her but she didn't care. She really enjoyed that attention, that male attention. It made her feel good, it was exciting and affirming. It blew far into the past the feelings of insecurity instilled in her by her past romantic experiences. No matter how shallow it might seem she knew how much she needed that.

She gave a slightly exasperated laugh at the next item. A long box that was decorated with the face of an African-American man. The front of the package was clear so that she could see the contents. She pulled it out of the larger box and examined it for the cam's benefit. She wasn't quite sure what to say.

She finally settled for, "Wow, err... that is pretty big."

Maybe not an Oscar-worthy acceptance speech but there was no denying that it was indeed big. She undid the package and removed her gift. It had to be a foot-long, impressively thick and moulded very realistically. She weighed it in her hands and shook her head a little.

The package had proclaimed, 'Moulded from the Original' and 'Life-Size'. Apparently this was a sex-toy replica of the 'equipment' of a porn star named Julius Flint. She couldn't say that she had ever heard of him but if the representation was accurate then it seemed to her that he was probably in the right profession! She'd have said it was ridiculous judging from her old boyfriends. However, she remembered that back-room of a club in H-Town. She had seen Cassius across the room and she had sat right next to Harley. They might not have quite matched 'Julius' but they were near enough to prove that the replica could be far more realistic than she would ever have believed.

She held the toy up to the camera and couldn't help noticing that it was almost as thick as he fore-arm. "Thanks guys - but I might have to work up to this." No kidding!