Bad fucking day not to wear that expandable bra, Randi thought to herself, snapping the straps of her cute, newly-puchased but obviously soon-to-be-obsolete 34FF back into place under her little black dress. The Bliss had come just a few minutes ago - a pretty good one, those two must have had some fun once we left them back there in her office - and everything seemed tight. But she couldn’t concern herself with her bra or shoes; there was suddenly more shit to do. Long ago self-diagnosed as a chronic underachiever (soccer player and student-government treasurer until, she fully admits, she discovered weed sophomore year), Randi Mongillo did not come to these new responsibilities naturally. But someone has to fucking do it, get on this CiCi thing before it explodes. She ran her tongue over her teeth, extended it out a good four inches in a stretch, and made her decision. I’ll text Amelia.
Good day to wear this new expandable bra, Amelia Eklund thought to herself, having just gotten back to “work” after the moments of Bliss. Patients had more-or-less been rescheduled for the day because of the photoshoot, and there wasn’t much to do. But yeah, she agreed with Randi - they had to tell Melissa about the video, what they’d seen that Cynthia (was that her name? did she still work here?) chick doing to his apartment. Melissa wouldn’t be happy, but whatever.
The sense of responsibility she felt these days was unusual for her, but felt somehow familiar. Like an old jacket she’d found in an attic, it fit but needed some air. Amelia had felt like an underachiever for years now, ever since she’d been forced to come home from the middle of her second year at UC Irvine’s Criminal Justice program when her parents had gotten sick and could no longer pay her bills. Money had disappeared into their medical care and when they finally both passed she’d found herself just another semi-educated Hooters waitress that used what little inheritance she had on implants. She’d given up, at some point, on school or any real semblance of a career. Even with this job she’d been making just enough to get by, pay for food, makeup, whatever. Maybe she’d started saving a little. Manicures had been getting expensive.
Bills, though, were no longer a problem with all the cam money she was making. She was now making tons of money. Returning to school someday - which she once considered impossible - seemed like a reasonable idea again, after this streaming thing played itself out. Yeah, there’d been a new sense of motivation inside Amelia for a couple months now, something in fact that went even beyond school and career.
As much as she’d be loathe to admit it, she felt it. She felt it herself and saw it inside all her friends here, a burgeoning purpose for something bigger than just personal growth (though there was a lot of that too haha). They were part of something, something becoming huge, something becoming powerful. Not just the Movement, either. Not just women taking over the fucking world (which, really, they’d already done). There was something here, in their group of girls, something centered around Melissa that was on the brink of becoming enormous. It was there, deep in her bones, and it felt good, even better than money.
But, anyway, a little raise couldn’t hurt either…
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