Steven Allan Porter

Diary Entry of a Webcam Girl

Panties draped over my lamp, my bed and laptop.
My clients favor my red corset.
If you have a valid credit card, you can see me in ways
only the bathroom mirror does early in the morning.
They like it when I keep my window open, so many
of them have voyeuristic fantasies.
Sometimes, my neighbors pass by while I work, but
they haven’t even taken a peek.
(At least I hope they haven’t)
I have one neighbor though, who smiles at me when
I leave my apartment. He sweeps his porch even if
it’s clean. I wonder if he’s seen my show?
I know other college girls who work at strip clubs and
must face their client’s erections and hear their cat calls.
I read on a screen what they’re afraid to say to
women in person. They ask me to choke myself,
stick a cellphone into my vagina and tell me
I remind them of their daughter.

 

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