Page 2 of White Noise

Yeah. That works.

I’m not going for sweet or approachable.

VioletHex does better when she looks like she might insult you for free and charge you to keep going.

My real name is Saga.

VioletHex is the one who pays the bills.

I came up with the username when I was twenty and apparently thought every online alias needed to sound like a goth girl hacked NASA. By the time I realized it was a little fucking embarrassing, too many people already knew it. The name was attached to subscribers, clips, regulars, and enough money that changing it would’ve been a dumb business move.

So VioletHex stayed.

And honestly, she fits me well enough.

She just has better lighting and fewer problems.

Saga is twenty-four, runs on energy drinks, forgets laundry in the dryer until she has to wash it again, and has absolutely eaten cereal out of a mixing bowl because every normal one was dirty and future me could deal with it.

VioletHex would never admit to any of that.

She’s always put together. She knows when to smile, when to act bored, when to make someone wait, and how to make a man feel special without actually giving him anything that matters.

That part matters to me.

I like knowing where the line is. I decide who gets access, how much they get, and when it ends. If somebody starts pushing too hard or acting like a payment means they own part of me, they’re gone.

Simple.

I started selling pictures after my mom died. I was twenty, halfway through a graphic design program I didn’t even like anymore, broke, exhausted, and spending more time in hospital waiting rooms than class.

So I dropped out.

After that, I waitressed for six months and hated almost every second of it.

The money sucked, the customers were worse, and one night some asshole grabbed my waist while his wife was in the bathroom and laughed when I told him to get his fucking hand off me.

I went home pissed, took a few pictures in my underwear, posted them online, and made more in an hour than I had during the whole shift.

That got my attention real fucking fast.

Pictures became customs. Customs became private calls. Private calls became streams.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped pretending it was temporary and admitted I was good at it.

I like being watched.

And I’m even better at reading the people doing it.

Men will tell you exactly what they want if you let them talk long enough. Some want praise. Some want humiliation. Some want to be ignored. Others want somebody else making decisions for them because apparently work already used up every functioning brain cell they had for the day. And some just want attention from a woman they’re convinced wouldn’t look at them twice in real life.

I can work with all of that.

What I don’t work with is entitlement.

The second somebody starts acting like a payment bought them more than what I agreed to give, they can fuck all the way off.

That’s one rule Saga and VioletHex agree on completely.