#of!reader

It’s the only secret you’ve ever had in your life and it’s a big one. You don’t think anyone would believe it. Not you. Not the librarian’s assistant on part-time salary in her corduroys and stuffy oversized cardigans.

It wasn't exactly an opportunity you were fond of, more of a last resort. You don’t fantasize about the men on the other side of the screen, as flattering as they can be. They have a similar sort of desperation, but the crux of it is somewhat more pitiful.

It’s the private message waiting for you that surprises you. That alone is behind a paywall, a feature many users forego when they’re only there for the quick wank. You shudder at the thought, often avoiding that reality of your side hustle.

You’re nervous to check but alone in the stacks, with not much else to do, your curiosity gets the best of you. You tap the icon and bring up the chat from BB. No profile pic, no info, just a message.

‘Are you interested in a private arrangement? 5k/week guaranteed.’

Great, a scam. You roll your eyes and close the app. Stupid. But why would someone pay for content just to try to con you. It’s a pretty big gamble.

You tuck away your phone and sigh, pacing up and down the aisle. The soft flutter of pages and stagnant silence. It’s so dull, you’d rather deal with anything else for the minimum wage and uncertain hours. Still, the freedom lets you tend to your other business.

A few minutes later, out of habit, you bring out your phone again. You linger in the blindspot of the cameras and unlock it. The app pops up as you left it. Another message.

‘Don’t leave me on read.’

The demand startles you. You should just block but you know that it’s money in your pocket. You’re not gullible, more greedy.

‘5k? Okay, sure.’

You press send and hide your phone behind your back and wander on. Your insides squirm. You’re not stupid enough to believe it. You look again at the end of the next shelf.

‘If you want more, we can negotiate. We’d have to meet to do that.’

You scoff aloud and quickly look around. There’s no one there to be disturbed. You evasively sit at one of the desk and hide behind the wooden cubicle that encloses it.

‘I’m not stupid’, you reply.

‘No, but you’re gorgeous. Pick the place. Let’s talk.’

‘Good luck finding whatever you’re looking for but it’s not with me,’ you type, skin razed and speckly.

‘I mean it.’

‘You’re not real. Your 5k is less real. Save your money and stop messaging.’

You wait, watching the screen. Your ears prick as you listen to the lull of the forgotten library. You can hear a cart rolling a few aisles back. You can’t get caught on your phone again.

A new notification blips up in the app before you can black the screen. ‘BB sent a tip’. You click it without thinking and bring up the tip; $1,000. A thousand? A message pops down and you quickly flick the chat back over the screen.

‘Believe me now?’ He challenges.

You take a breath and lock your phone, tucking it up your sleeve as you stand and turn down an aisle, passing the approaching cart as you refuse to look at the employee behind it. You go to the catalogue computer and pretend to tidy the little paper slips and pencils. You wait until the wheels squeak onward.

You slide your phone out and press your fingertip against the censor. The screen opens and the next message taunts you.

‘Give me a place and time’.

You hesitate and peek around, paranoid that others could read your mind just by looking at you.

‘Send a pic. Then I’ll meet,’ you counter.

‘You first, doll. Face for a face.’

You don’t like this and yet, you’re messaging.

‘After you,’ you insist.

No answer. You shake your head and put your phone back under your cuff. You carry on and head up the stairs to the next level. When you look at your phone again, there’s a response waiting for you.

A man with bright blue eyes and a sculpted jawline. Handsome, almost breathtakingly so. Your surprise is undergirded by your insecurity. Well, might as well send your own and let him change his mind. You scroll through your miniscule collection of selfies that don’t make you cringe and send one off.

You can’t look away as you wait. You know what’s coming. Rejection. Finally…

‘Place, time. Make sure to buy yourself something nice.”