The suggestion itself came from the chat.

Mickey had removed her bright turquoise shorts at that point and was wearing a pair of thin white panties that you might buy at Walmart or a tissue paper store. It made Eliza raise her eyebrows because she usually assumed camgirls wore lingerie or thongs or at least a little lace in their outfits.

It didn’t matter. Mickey was situated on the floor somewhere in her room with the camera angled upward to show most of her body. She kept giving heated looks to the screen, little challenges, and Eliza was barely remembering to breathe. The other girl slowly unzipped her sports jacket. She tugged it down to reveal the cusps of breasts and a long valley of skin-- seemingly endless and unblemished. Eliza bit her lip as she imagined drizzling small angry red marks into that exposed length of skin running from her collarbone to her belly button.

Mickey edged forward with a teasing amount of chest showing and her legs tucked underneath her. “So,” she hooded her eyes and seemed to be talking directly to each one of them personally, “let’s say we get started.”

Eliza swallowed thickly and her mouse hovered over the “x” in the corner of the screen. She could still look Mickey in the eye tomorrow if she didn’t watch her like this. She didn’t press out though.

Mickey’s eyebrows raised as she seemed to read something on the screen. “Oh is that what you want?” She rumbled from deep in her throat and Eliza’s eyes darted to the chat.

El2231: touch yourself until ur wet through your panties.

Eliza covered her face as if the words had been spoken out loud and slumped down in her chair. She peeked out through her fingers just in time to see Mickey’s reaction.

A coy smile spread wider across her face and she smacked her lips. “Sounds like a classic, El, alright,” she adjusted herself, “how about 200 tokens to give my panties a wet spot.”

Eliza squirmed in her chair and watched as people started to contribute tokens all at once. They accumulated fast enough with a few added “for my dirty girl” and “to make you scream” messages here and there.

Eliza watched with an electricity building beneath her skin-- a haze of bright energy that pulsed back and forth deep within her. She watched in a trance as Mickey adjusted herself on the floor and spread her pale thighs wide for the eye of the camera.

Her thighs were muscular and well-defined, which made sense since she went to the gym so often. She was also perfectly hairless around the strip of white underwear that was the only thing separating Eliza from her, from all of her. Eliza tipped forward. She imagined how it might smell. How it might taste. How it might feel-- velvet soft and pliant. Eliza lapped at the top of her mouth.

She had read that woman didn’t taste particularly good, but God, did she want to reach through the screen right then. God, did she want to baptize herself in something a little “not good.”

Mickey ran her hands down her thighs, lightly, with just the pads of her fingers. She tilted her head back and pinched the soft skin there. She spread her legs wider and reached up to grab the top of her panties. She pulled the fabric flush against her-- tight enough for her to rub against and give a breathy sigh at the friction. The lips of her sex were plump and puffy against the stretch.

Eliza could have cried out. She could have lost herself to the feeling of watching her roommate work herself up.

“You guys like that?” She rasped. “I know I do.” Mickey was slow. She was delicate with herself, and her words from last night echoed in Eliza’s head: it’s about the play.

Mickey was playing. She shallowly moved her hips back and forth against the fabric before her right hand drifted down, down, down. “Oh yeah,” Mickey whispered gutterly and pressed her finger over what must be her folds.

She worked herself up and down-- moving her long fingers methodically and deliberately over the area back and forth and in lazy circles. Eliza could almost make out the outline of her hole through the thin material and it made her twitch. It made something in her thrum with life in a way she didn’t want to name.

“Ah, ah,” Mickey exclaimed with graphic little cries. Her other hand pushed the jacket aside and revealed one of her pert nipples that stood hard and dark in the lights of the room. She tweaked it as if almost angry at the little nub.

She touched herself and twisted her nipple with an indulgent smile on her lips.

“Oh no.” Eliza gasped under her breath and ground herself down on the chair. She helplessly rubbed up against the seam in her jeans like her life depended on it. She put a hand over her mouth so that she wouldn’t whimper. So that she wouldn’t let out a single sound.

For a moment she pretended it was Mickey’s hand over her mouth. She imagined the other girl's fingers pressing between her lips and inserting deep into her mouth. She imagined Mickey biting the cusp of her ear and telling her in that same dark voice: “suck." Heat rolled through Eliza's entire body.

On screen one of Mickey’s fingers pushed that thin strip of underwear into herself. It disappeared up into the soft private place of her and came back with a spreading wetness. The material becoming damp and rumpled from Mickey’s slick.

“I’m so hot in here,” Mickey was muttering now. “Can you see?” She hissed and canted her hips forward to show the spreading damp spot. “I’m ready for you. Do you want me?” She practically growled, “I’m ready for you to make my little hole yours.”

Eliza shivered but she wasn’t sure what from. She wasn’t usually one for dirty talk, especially one obviously not aimed for her, but it was Mickey’s voice. It was Mickey’s coarse words and hard tone that ran over Eliza’s insides like river rapids. It threatened to make her come undone.

“It’s alright.” Mickey looked directly into the camera with her little smirk. “You like this? You like how dirty you’re making me? You want me.” She said almost like an understanding, like she forgave you, like she liked it. “And you can have me.”

A thrill went through Eliza’s spine like a lightning strike down the Eiffel tower.

She slammed the computer screen closed and took deep, panicked breaths like she’d just ran the mile in PE. “Oh God.” She buried her face in her hands and felt that same electricity blitzing through every nerve but in the worst of ways. “Oh my God.”

Eliza took deep gulping breaths until she no longer felt like crying. Who felt like crying after watching porn? She didn’t know. A dizzy grey storm threatened her thoughts with hard edges of shame and self-hatred.

She didn’t risk opening her computer again until almost a full thirty minutes had passed which she spent in a daze of her own dreary thoughts. She tried to close her eyes and center herself. But when she turned inwards Mickey was there. Mickey was gazing at her, Mickey was wet and spreading herself for her.

And in that shadowed secret place Mickey wanted her right back.

Eliza shook her head and the guilt almost crushed her from the inside out. It was hard to breath. It was hard to think. She tried to use her head: she was a modern woman. Eliza believed in logic and thorough thought and listening to people.

What made a naked woman so different? Why did it make her lose herself and try to hump the seam in her pants until she knew she was damp down there too? Why was it something people drew, painted, photographed, obsessed over? What was this?

She opened her laptop again, quickly clicked out of “starlightcams.com,” and went back to her blank document.

She sniffled slightly and wrote the title of her senior thesis: The Politics of the Female Nude