How I became a Milf Cam Girl
“I don’t know how they do it, honestly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Keep up the secrecy. These women are nothing but strippers and prostitutes, selling themselves for money. What I’m saying is, I really don’t know how they can keep it a secret.”
“You think people in their life don’t know?”
“I don’t know how they could, who would be associated with someone like that? It’s just.. I don’t know Mary, I can’t even believe we’re talking about this right now.”
My closest friend was sitting across from me at my kitchen table, sipping her tea and endlessly talking about a topic she wasn't really familiar with. The truth is, I didn't know much about it either until a few months ago. This is probably where I should begin the story, but there was something about this conversation that reminded me of my own past feelings on the matter. Plus, she was the one who suggested I look online for some additional work.
It seems like ages ago that I came across the ad while searching for jobs online. Paul, my husband of nearly 20 years, passed away suddenly from a heart attack the summer before last, and I fell behind on all the bills while grieving him. No one blamed me, and I received a lot of support from friends and family, from both my side and Paul's. In hindsight, I suppose I could have accepted the help, or even asked for it now. But that wasn't my style. I've always been an independent person, and I was confident I could manage on my own. A year later, I was finally beginning to emerge from the fog of losing the love of my life.
I’d returned to my job as the science teacher at the local high school, but it was becoming clear that one income wasn’t going to be enough to support not only myself, but my 18 year old son Peter as well. He had his sights set on going to college next fall and I really didn’t’ want to have to tell him he’d have to wait until I had enough money saved up. Luckily Paul and I had started a fund for it a couple years back, but it was still a far cry from tuition.
So anyways here I was, a 41 year old widow surfing the internet job postings on the PC in my husband’s old office, hoping to find a way to send my kid to college. Having practically walked into my teaching job out of college I’d never had to go on a job search before and didn’t really know where to start. My best friend, Joyce, told me to try some of the local job posting sites first and also gave me a list of some other ones to check out. I pecked away at the keys, yawning, rubbing my eyes and tightening up my robe, scrolling down a list of relevant jobs. There were a few for substitutes, some home schooling gigs, tutor work, and even some foreign jobs teaching english. Unfortunately, I realized I was a bit under prepared when I saw they all asked for a cover letter, resume and references.
I sipped my coffee and sat back, looking around the room. I’d cleaned out most of Paul’s stuff, leaving only the books and office supplies. Figuring I might as well make use of the day, I pulled out some paper, put it in the printer beside me and tried to come up with a good resume. By the time I finished my cup of coffee, I’d gotten basically nowhere. All I had down was my name, address, phone number and email address. I sighed out loud and got up, my robe swaying a bit letting some cool air rush over my warm body underneath. I bit my lip and confessed to myself that I really just wanted to crawl back into bed. Walking down the hall and back to the kitchen I passed by my son’s room, seeing it was pretty messy as usual and eerily vacant.
It wasn’t that it was unusual that he was gone, it was Saturday and he probably slept over at one of his friends last night. Peter was a bit of a geek, which might sound harsh coming from his own mother, but it was a good thing. I didn’t like worrying about him and knew that I didn’t have to. He was smart. He liked books and computers and only had a few good close friends. He seemed happy, and I was happy for him. It was really rough on him losing his father, but they were different and really only shared the biological bond. Paul was a very out going, strong, confident man.. Which was pretty much the opposite of Peter.
I shut his door and went to pour myself some more coffee, eating a muffin to hopefully get my mind working a little sharper. Getting back to the computer, I had a new sense of optimism and decided to explore some other options outside of teaching, thinking that maybe a change would be good for me. I’d become quite bored with my current routine of going to school every day during the week, marking papers and sleeping all weekend. Clicking through some of the other sites that Joyce had given me, I found the “gigs” section. These jobs weren’t part-time or full-time, they were just temporary or contract type positions. It definitely peaked my interest to have some freelance type of work that wouldn’t have to interfere with teaching.
Immediately I was drawn to the ads that said “WORK FROM HOME!”.. I’d heard about jobs like this before but thought they must be some sort of scam or something. Right now though, I really didn’t have anything to lose and working from home would be the perfect solution. A few of them seemed to be alright, typing, data entry type of stuff which I was sure I could do. I emailed them each a nice little message about how I thought I could do the job fairly easily and felt really good about myself. I kept looking through the rest, and then there it was…
“Have you ever been called a MILF? We’re looking for mature, sexy, confident women to join a new up and coming web cam model site! Work from home, all you need is a web cam and a talent for turning guys on! Earn real cash! Get paid monthly! Start today!!!!!!”
The words pierced through my mind as I read them once, twice, and then a third time… “MILF” .. “mature”.. “sexy”… It almost sounded too good to be true. Wait.. what was I thinking? I couldn’t do that.. I’m not sexy and obviously not confident.. A MILF? I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before. A shiver went over my body and I suddenly felt extremely naked.. I guess technically I was partially naked, wearing only my underwear and a thin tank top beneath my robe. My mind couldn’t sit still, and I felt myself literally sitting on the edge of my chair, my hand moving the mouse over the link provided below the ad and clicking absent-mindedly. Before I could catch my breath, my eyes were met with a screen full of scantily clad women around my age. All sitting inside their little squares, in various states of undress, putting on a show for… 240 people?!?!
