Chiaroscuro and Catgirls

With endless thanks to the lovely and delectable Jackie.Hikaru for her tireless reviews and excellent suggestions. If you haven't favourited her yet - well, then I'm afraid that we can't be friends.

☙ ♀ ❧

I stared at the boarded-up windows of the building on the other side of the alley, and listened to the distant screeching of a passing Metropolitan Line train.

Night was falling over North London, and my small meal of cheap rice hadn't quite stilled my hunger.

Soon it would be time for me to prepare - time to try to eke another week of base and makeup out of my dwindling supply.

My tomato plant's pale single blossom mocked me from my tiny windowsill garden.

Tomatoes... I'd had some tomatoes last week, hadn't I? Out of a box, sure, but it counted... didn't it?

It would be month end soon, and my rent and bills would be due.

I was short. Not terminally short, I still had time. But short enough that I might have to look for "alternate revenue streams" even though I'd promised myself that I wouldn't ever...

I sighed.

I'd lost seventeen subscribers this month. I was running perilously close to dropping out of ranking on any of the remaining sites that I advertised myself on.

I stared at my short, neat nails and the cheap turquoise acrylic that coated them.

Cam-girl.

Such an abrupt, dismissive name for what so many of us were finding ourselves doing to pad the sides.

Some might do it for spending money, or likes, or the thrill - but not me. I wasn't talented or unique enough to exhibit, and I didn't have a qualification in design or anything that had yet granted me anything more than zero-hours office work.

So I'd resorted to the same thing that so many other women had over the centuries - my body.

I didn't perform sex acts. I was strictly soft-core only - so far at least. I'd managed to create a niche early on - painting and drawing while wearing little to nothing, showing mixed-media competence while (frequently) spilling paint on myself in ditsy and but strategically-chosen ways that were calculated to entice people to come back.

There seemed to be enough men who'd pay some small amount to watch me do it. Most were ephemeral, paying four pounds and some change to see my barely-covered boobs and bum as I mixed paints or sketched wide fantasy landscapes with charcoal or pen.

Some subscribed, and I depended on their regular weekly stipend far more than I liked to think.

A grey pigeon fluttered past my window; I came out of my reverie, and glanced down at the scratched screen of my last-legs phone.

Show time.

My stomach growled; I drank a glass of tap water to still it.

Then I opened my diminished tray of makeup, using long-honed skills to eke out lots from little.

Base and blush wouldn't change my face much; it never did. But I'd learned by trial and error what looked best on camera, and I stuck religiously to my routine, armouring myself against the next few hours of horny patrons that I'd do my (distant, limited) best to please enough that they'd come back tomorrow.

A touch of blush, a perilously-thin layer of lip gloss, and I'd have a thin veneer that completed me under the soft tones of the lighting.

My stage awaited - a battered desk, the cheapest glow ring light I'd been able to find on Amazon, a reliable if old Dell, and the Nikon camera my brother had handed down to me when he'd upgraded.

I guarded them more than anything else in my existence, because I was nothing without them.

I topped up my water jug, made sure my cables were all neatly bound together so that nothing could come undone.

I pulled my easel closer and pinned some fresh card to it, then made sure my cheap second camera - a shitty thrift-store-special webcam - was pointed directly at it. Low-fi for my work, HDMI for what passed for boobs. That's what brought the money in, after all - even the two excuses I was blessed with could at least do something for me...

I policed my backdrop, removing anything that clashed with my persona, and took a moment to centre myself.

Today would be charcoal. Charcoal was cheap, I had plenty of it, and I needed the acrylics to finish a work I was hoping I'd be able to sell at market over the weekend.

"Okay, Viv. Let's make bank tonight. You're still young. This is just for now. We'll get through it."

My mantra; my little false promise to myself, every single day...

I sighed out a breath and stretched my shoulders.

I moved my easel into place, tucked a stick of charcoal behind an ear for me to "forget" about, and donned my ear buds.

The green and purple sheen on my camera's lens taunted me like some weird, bestial eye. I stared balefully back at it, then adopted my persona's happy smile.

I logged into my account, queued up my software, started my video stream and turned on my light.

I stared into my camera's maw and smiled for my subscribers.

"Hi, it's Ellie, and tonight we're doing charcoal!"

mbak318> Hi Ellie!

SolarBadger> evening Ellie!

Moxie> morning Ellie! XD show us your bum! XD

And the demands of my fans began. Seventy one online, and others trickling in. Could be much better, could still be much worse. At least I recognised my regulars - a core of maybe ten who'd stuck by me over the year or so I'd been doing this so far.

I knew most of their preferences. I knew the sort of innuendo they'd drop, if I gave them the slightest excuse. And I knew they'd come back - if I gave them a reason to.

So I began my performance, and the evening slipped by.

A mountainscape slowly formed under my fingers, dappled by the expressive shadows from tall clouds marching over the foreground meadows as a distant stream took shape and then meandered closer.

I already had a streak of charcoal dust on my cheek, and another smudge on the visible bits of my left breast.

I might not be good at anything else but I was damn good at landscapes.

It was a pity that my subscribers wanted nude cat-girls tonsil-deep in one another...

I sniggered.

"Sorry," I answered a question, remembering to put the little bubble in my voice. "I just thought of something silly. So... who else has questions so far? Are we all having fun?"

mbak318> Are there going to be any people Ellie?

"But you guys know I'm not good at people," I answered, tucking my fringe back and smiling coquettishly. "They always come out strange, with the wrong proportions."

It was the opening they wanted, and they leapt for it.

SolarBadger> What proportions Ellie? :pokerface:

"Their boobs are too big," I said, puffing out my own minimalist chest. "They look top-heavy. Anyway, you guys always ask the same question. And I always give the same answer."

"Ellie" smiled.

"But... I suppose... I could be convinced..."

A chime. And another, and another. People were spamming emoji bells and winged bills in chat. My "crew" and some other randos were flinging money in my pot - forty percent of whatever it was would go to my streaming platform, the rest could be mine...

I turned, stared at my screen, and did the maths...

Thirty pounds so far. Food for a week - and some new MAC base.

And then, shortly afterwards, another ten, and then ten after that. It was shaping up as a good night... so far. But experience had shown me that my crowd was fickle.

I touched my finger to my lips and fussed with my way-too-tight top so that it showed even more of what little of me there was. I reached up to adjust my hair (and pull my top up higher over my chest for a little bit of additional fan service)

"Oh my gosh, you guys are so generous tonight. Well... that's pretty convincing... so I guess I can do something nice for you. So you guys all want me to draw my silly, ridiculous, ill-proportioned women, do you?"

I hated Ellie sometimes. But she paid my bills.

A flurry of text comments in my stream. All affirmative, some crude, but those were sadly to be expected. Demands for fucking. Demands for lesbians, or for girls doing or being done by... other things.

I'd seen worse.

But Ellie was much more innocent than I was.

"Oh... I don't know if I could do any of those, and definitely not in this show, but maybe..."

I freed my landscape for later completion and picked up another sheet of card.

"How do we feel about... feet?" I said, as I began sketching out a female form.

Positively, was the consensus.

"And... breasts? Big or small or normal... oh... silly me, ha ha, big it is. So... we do this, and then we join these arcs like this to form the shape of her torso... and... notice how I'm using the shadows to give volume... oh, yes, very funny three-one-eight, yes, volume... ha ha..."

And the girl took form under my charcoal, a reclining nymph, nude, lying on one side, legs extending, toes pointing towards the viewer and the merest suggestion of her lips showing behind her thigh...

I filled her in, gave her a smile and a come-hither slant to her eyes, then leaned back with a groan.

"Well... that's just about it for this part of the evening... so... who has questions?"

I took a sip of water, bracing for the assault.

DreadPiratesRobPants> what colour panties are you wearing

"You know they're pink," I said, smiling innocently at the camera.

Ellie loved pink.

AccioCalamari> show us your boobs

DaveyBonesesCocker> does she ever bone anyone on this stream

DaveyBonesesCocker> does she ever bone anyone on this stream or play with herself on this stream

ElliotP> no she doesn't you dumb fuck

ElliotP> can't you read her bio up above?

"Boys, boys, be nice... no... to answer the question, DaveyBones... I don't do that, no... but I do like getting messy for you boys..."

JoBounce> are you single

A dangerous question, I ignored it

CrystalMaze> show us your boobs Ellie!

I sighed internally but smiled for them, and pulled my shirt slowly off of myself. The charcoal pencil fell from behind my ear; I caught it reflexively.

"Oh! So that's where I put that! Silly me. So... how do you guys like my new bra?"

(It was an old one I hadn't worn for a while.)

I preened a bit, pushed up my excuses for breasts to pretend a little cleavage, smiled for the camera.

mbak318> take it off Ellie

DaveyBonesesCocker> show us your tits

hardman7> I want to lick your nipples

"Oh my... you guys are so thirsty tonight, " I said, playing it up, but part of me still enjoying the attention, even if it was from men. God knows I got little enough from women these days.

Godiva82> Is this what you want to do with your life, Ellie?

The words stood out, completely different to the crass scrawling of the others from their searing, accusatory unfairness

ElliotP> what

DreadPiratesRobPants> holy shit brb dialling 911 to report a murder XD.

"Is this... what I want to do..."

I took a shaky breath, and stared around myself at my tiny, dingy, shitty little flat... then back at my wan, stunned, hurt expression.

"Honestly... no... but this is all I have to work with..."

And as the pain bloomed under my ribs I felt myself sob, once, despite all my layers of armour and fiercely-imposed control.

Wild fury seized me; I yanked out the cable from my camera, and my video feed went black. I fumbled for mute, muted my helpless choking sobs, and fought for far, far longer than I should have for some measure of calm.

And then I realised what I'd done.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

I'd just lost my pot for going dark. The stream ran on strict rules, no cutting early, no muting...

"Oh for Christ's sake," I whispered into my hands. Two hours and I had nothing to show for it. And I'd probably get a snotty email from some electronic admin witch - "Dear Ellie, we would like to remind you of the terms and conditions..."

My client jingled - a different sound to the normal one, one I didn't recognise.

I wiped my eyes again and glared at the hated thing... then paused. Someone had just paid twenty pounds for five minutes of "private time with Ellie". I'd set that up when I first signed up, but forgotten about it amongst the humdrum of normal channel interaction...

Then I realised that it was Godiva82, the one who'd asked that horrid question.

"Bastard. You complete bastard," I whispered. Probably wanted to gloat a bit. Well, fuck him, I was stronger than him. I fought down the despair and got control of myself. I wiped my nose and dropped the tissues on the floor so they'd be out of sight.

I had to do this to salvage something. I had no choice. Money was money, wherever it came from.

I reconnected my camera, un-muted myself, and accepted the private stream request.

"Hey it's... it's Ellie," I managed, voice all ragged despite my best efforts.

Godiva82> Oh, Ellie - I'm so sorry for upsetting you, I didn't mean to. It was a stupid question, I don't know what I was thinking.

I stared at the words.

"Too... late to worry about it now," I managed, hoarsely. "I'm sure I'll get flamed to a crisp for it later. But - just so you know for next time - I only get paid if I stay on stream until it's done. So... thanks. I probably won't be able to afford food this month because of... that."

Godiva82> How much was in your stream's pot

"It doesn't matter. Ask me something else."

Godiva82> Please, Ellie. Tell me

I stared at the words.

"Seventy-two pounds," I managed, after a while. "Yeah, I'm really pulling in it, look at Miss Moneybags over here..."

My client chimed, I jerked, then stared in disbelief.

Two hundred pounds had appeared. Private streams were different, I got more of a share. Three quarters of that would be mine if I earned it...

"What the fuck..." I breathed.

Godiva82> Call it... an attempt at an apology

"Why... why would you do this?"

Godiva82> Because I was a monumental idiot, and I was rude, and because I can at least do something to make amends for both of those failings.

Godiva82> Listen, we don't have much time. Tell me about your paintings. Do you do commissions?

"Um... I haven't... nobody's ever wanted..."

Godiva82> I would love for you to paint a landscape for me - preferably acrylic but I'd also be delighted with one in charcoal. Do you have somewhere I can contact you - by email, I mean?

"Um... I... you can mail me, I guess... through the system? Um... or... or you can drop me an email at my address. It's "ellie paints herself" - all one word - at freemail dot org..."

I stared into the unblinking eye of my camera, then jerked as my phone bleeped at me.

Godiva82> I sent you something; a photograph of a landscape that I love. Look at it, then if you accept, reply and let me know your timelines and how much you would want for the work, and how large a deposit you would need

I felt like the world was spinning out of my control.

"A deposit? What?"

Godiva82> Art supplies are not cheap, and it seems unfair to expect you to pay for it out of pocket, especially given my earlier behaviour

The timer in the top right hand corner flashed into its final minute.

Godiva82> did you get my mail? It would be from platinumblonde@occlude.me

"Yes... I see it..."

Godiva82> good. I hope I'll hear back from you. Good night, Ellie. Sorry for spoiling your stream; I hope this makes up for it in some way. If it's any consolation, lots of people have joined your channel - I guess news of the drama went out. If you play you cards right you might come out very much on top...

"Oh fuck me..."

Godiva82> Language, language... goodnight, Ellie, and sorry again for being such an idiot.

The stream flicked to black, and a few moments later my phone vibrated as it merrily informed me that I was £150 richer.

I slumped back into my chair.

"Oh my God," I breathed, nauseous and shaking from shock, still not quite believing what had just happened to me.

I got to my feet, found my worn but still-warm jumper and pulled it on. My cramped single-glazed flat was chilly and growing chillier.

I permitted myself a slice of honey-and-margarine bread now that I knew I'd be able to replenish both, and then, after a brief internal battle, turned on the heating to just break the cold a bit.

Only then, finally, did I open the email and stare at the grainy photo of a stark landscape backed by distant, snow-capped mountains.

I sniffed once more. I clicked on the "reply to" button.

And then I thought for a moment.

Hi Godiva82

I can do it. But I have some questions. What dimensions do you want it in? Do you want card or stretched canvas? Canvas is better but it's much more expensive. Charcoal will work but Acrylic will look better, or even watercolours but that's not my speciality so given the choice I'd opt for acrylic on canvas. It's a beautiful photo, by the way. Where is it?

Ellie

I stood. I walked, pacing the narrow gap between my door and my window, thinking hard.

I could probably squeeze a one and a half by one meter canvas into my work area. A cheap one would be maybe forty pounds. But a proper linen blank would be double or triple that. Plus I'd want to prime it again; I'd had too many bad experiences to trust factory coatings. Paints for a piece that big... brushes, mine were worn...

It was a lot of money; there was no way they'd pay it.

I sighed as the momentary spark of excitement winked out. For a moment I'd let myself hope...

Oh well.

I slumped into my chair and stared at my bony fingers. And I sniffed again.

My phone pinged. I shook my head abruptly to rid myself of the pointless self-pity and picked it up. Godiva82 had replied.

Hi "Ellie".

It's the Atacama desert in Chile. I was there last year in between assignments and fell in love with it.

I want it as big as possible, at least a metre across if not more. Cost is not an issue for me; I love your style and you're the first person I've encountered who I think could render it the way I would want it.

Let me know your bank details by whatever means is best for you, and let me know how much deposit you need. Again - I repeat, cost is not an issue; I want something that resonates with me. Something I can keep for years with no worry it will fade.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Kirsty.

Kirsty...

Suddenly everything got weird. A woman. A woman had been on my stream, and had... stalked me down and... and commissioned me...

A woman!

I stared at the email, wondering about this strange, awkward benefactress and what her motivations could possibly be.

Who the hell was she... and why she was wasting her time on me?

Hi Kirsty.

High quality canvas is about £70 a square metre, but I can get it for cheaper if I scrounge. Primer is cheap, I have a selection of paints but I'll need to buy more to cover and fill in properly - so that's likely another £40. £20 for sundries. Call it £130 as a deposit and that should cover it. Is that okay? It would probably take me a couple of weeks to finish.

As regards the scene - do you want it reproduced exactly, or do you want an interpretation of it?

And I stood, and made myself a mug of sweet tea, hopeful now that she'd respond quickly so that the butterflies would leave me alone for just a little bit...

And she did.

"Ellie" -

Let me have your bank details or a way to get the funds to you. As to the scene - I have only one rule. I want the mountains in the distance exactly as they are, but everything else is yours to do with as you like; I know you will create something beautiful.