I also did yoga, livepainting with my back to the webcam in only a thong. I hula-hooped in my underwear while listening to the Arctic Monkeys. In my group chat I wrote: “Sorry, cam froze.” And I logged off for the night.Įventually I got a bit more adventurous. I froze up in stage fright and closed the room. And so far all I’d done in a chat room was flash my boobs for an influx of tokens. The first time I went ‘private’ with a guy I freaked the fuck out. I knew the way to make real money was either by going ‘private’ (opening a private show chatroom that costs the user a certain amount per minute) or by spending many months on the site building up a following, just like any other chaser of internet work/fame! It wasn’t much, but it was more than I’d make scrolling through Tinder looking for someone I actually wanted to bone IRL. 20 bucks for six hours of sitting around in my underwear, netflirting with dudes. I made $20AUD in ‘tokens’ (how payments were recorded via the site) my first night. I only typed at first: At the time I lived in a sharehouse with only guys my age and really wasn’t interested in them finding out about my moonlit habits. My chat room began to fill up and I started talking to a few guys in the group chat. I sat on my bed, placed my webcam facing toward me and sat doodling in my sketchpad, waiting for patrons.Įventually they came.
It was the middle of summer and boiling hot even in just that.
I signed up, submitted my name, ID, bank details and some photos and within 24 hours I was approved as a bonafide Cam Girl with no bloody idea of what I was doing.įor my first show I applied some makeup, did my hair and put on a deep v-neck leotard. She had found, through a network of girls, a website that paid decent money for cam girling if you put the work in. It happened through a friend of a friend of mine. Header image from the documentary Cam Girlz.