The Retirement Plan

Chapter 7

Miley teased a risen red nipple, bare breasts pointing toward the laptop camera. New messages flashed up on the sixteen-inch screen.

CaptainFit56: you look so fine today.

Sukmyballsgently: Hot.

Calvin69: hru.

Miley batted her eyelids, ultra-long fake lashes complemented by smoky mascara.

Hardboy24: You are so gorgeous. Christ, if she had a penny for every time someone had typed that one, she would have a damn sight more money in her account than she had. C'mon, somebody tip already.

Justin Timberlake was bringing sexy back, the volume on her CD-player up high. The user count read 343. The 11am slot, the cyber-sex equivalent of the graveyard-shift on the radio, only the most dedicated perverts tuning in at this hour. Randy retirees, the terminally unemployed, and horny teens pulling a sickie off school. And the occasional office-boy having fun on company time.

Miley remained composed, maintaining the alluring pout. "Hi guys," said in her sultriest tone.

Bing! JimmySexton69 tipped 100 tokens. Miley crawled to the keyboard, typed out, Thanks Jimmy. How r u, sexy?

JimmySexton69 was hard and horny. No surprise there. Miley gazed into the camera, glossy lips slightly parted. Squeezed her firm breasts. The tits that had set her back a small fortune, a loan she still owed on. She typed in; you have enough tokens to join me for a private chat?

JimmySexton69: Not right this minute. I have a lot of in-between time at work.

Lucky bastard, Miley thought. Not much chance of in-between time when you have 343 pairs of eyes peering into your bedroom/office.

Kingofhearts: I want to go down on you. Another classic. Originality in short supply in your typical virtual chatroom. The charmer followed up with, Take your panties off and spread your legs.

Miley's manicured nails clicked the keys: Open your wallet, hun. Drop me 900.

Kingofhearts I could maybe go 20.

Miley, or NaughtyMiley, as was her profile handle, replied: Ur so cheap. Her back, beginning to ache from assuming this cat-like pose. Fought the good fight to keep the boredom and pain out of her painted smile. Having one of those is it's all worth it moments when she heard that beautiful bing. Funguyperth tipped 200. That worked out at twenty US dollars. Around sixteen Euros, of which the house took ten. Miley typed back her gratitude.

She had earned fifty euros this morning. That went some way to making this month's loan repayment. With this in mind, she could smile when ScottyNola18 gave her precise instructions on where to stick the pink dildo. The seven inches long silicone baby lying atop her black satin pillow-case.

Like many of her fellow millennials, ScottyNola18 demanded instant gratification. A symptom of the internet age, where everything was but a click of a button away. They never could grasp the idea of a three-hour show, a slow-burning build-up to a satisfying climax. Others had it sussed, trawling the profiles, searching for the shows deep into the third hour, with guaranteed x-rated action. Made her wonder if her generation still appreciated foreplay, or was that a concept that had gone the way of courting had when the free love of the '60s kicked in.

She stroked her nips, ensuring they remained bullet-hard for her audience's pleasure. She had a hankering for a Donner kebab. Get one from the Turkish restaurant on the corner later. Were they still open? Yeah, they specialized in takeaways, so they had to be, right?

Yeehaw, the computer-generated voice on her screen, screamed. Miley's eyes went straight to the message board. Rockanddroll had just tipped 1000. Bless his over-excited heart. She slipped a hand between her gym-toned thighs, gave him a little treat for his generosity. Of course, the 342 anonymous viewers and the tightfisted message writers all got to enjoy the same thrill for free. Such is the way of the world.