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I'm Seen, Therefore I Am by Vanessa Grigoriadis -- page 3
"But we got four million unique hits to the site in two hours," says Hammil. "And that's just the beginning. Something really big is going to happen to us soon." The girls nod.
"I want to be a famous actress," says Alex.
"Me too," says Amber. "But I also want to lead a deep, exciting life. I want to change the world."
"We are changing the world, right now," insists Alex. "We believe that our society is repressed, and of course — just look at who founded us, Pilgrims and Puritans, buttoned up to their necks."
"We believe that our society confuses sex and nudity," says Amber.
"See, these two get it," says Hammil, beaming at them. "There's this nude club called Mons Venus here, where guys get jacked off at tables. That's okay with the city of Tampa, but we're not."
The waiter, who's given the table remarkably attentive service, starts clearing it off, using a crumber to sweep the mess off the tablecloth. "Hammil, you know that Robyn was out all day yesterday, and then she asked me to switch chat with her cause she wanted to get her hair cut, and then she didn't come home on time," complains Alex. "That's fucked up. If she hadn't come back, I couldn't have gone out to dinner."
Hammil nods.
"And you know that Seth called again to complain about the girls opening that medicine cabinet door in the front bathroom," says Alex. "See, if they open it the whole way, it blocks the cam from catching them on the toilet. You know who does it," she says meanly. "It's Milla." Everyone except Alex hates using the toilet on camera: in addition to relying on the old medicine cabinet door trick, the girls string towels strategically across their bathrooms to obscure the toilet.
The waiter hands Hammil the check, and he sets down his credit card with a flourish.
Can we also have five slices of cheesecake, two salmon entrees, and the grilled swordfish?" he asks. "To go?"
Joeblow: Thank fucking god the hot girls are back all the other girls in this house are fat pigs that need to shove a broken beer bottle up their asses so we can get off
Hurrah: Did I miss the reporter girl eating Alex's wet pussy
Tree: Where did you go, sweet beautiful Amber? I missed you
When we come back from dinner, Amber gets online to let the guys know where we've been. "They always want to know
everything," she says to me. "What did we have as an appetizer again?"
Alex stalks into the living room, where Robyn is putting on her makeup. "Are you going out tonight?" she asks. Robyn nods as she applies her lipliner.
"That's what you think," says Alex angrily. "Everyone! Meeting!"
With all the girls gathered in a circle, Alex runs through Robyn's offenses one more time. "And I know that other people feel this way too," she says. Everyone hangs their heads, picking at the cheesecake. "Thanks, guys, now I look like the asshole again," huffs Alex, stomping out of the room.
"You can go out, Robyn," says J.J., putting a hand on her shoulder. "I don't care."
"Whatever! I don't even want to anymore," says Robyn, stomping out as well.
"No one ever listens to J.J.," says J.J. mournfully.
Everyone starts getting ready for the evening activity. "Not like I really feel like doing this anymore," says Amber, putting on a bowler hat and knee-high men's socks. Hammil tapes her as she makes a little intro for the site: "Since all y'all are always treating us like dogs, we're going to be the men tonight. Watch us play poker, drink martinis," she takes off her top, slowly,
and her nipples become erect, "smoke cigars, bitch about ho's not being in the kitchen, making our, um, pies." Hammil turns off the cam and all the girls burst into laughter. "Pies?" The tension of the earlier emergency huddle has been forgotten.
The girls, giggling and in various states of undress, move the black formica table to one side of the dining room and set up two cams "on stage." Alex and the wayward Robyn reappear.
"Did you get me a tie?" asks J.J., pouring some Gallo into McDonald's mugs.
"No," says Amber. "'Cause they only had clip-ons, and we're not going to have our shirts closed."
"Hey, look, I'm the best hung white girl I know," says Tamra, showing us her profusely stuffed tighty whiteys.
"I want a shit stain for the back of my underwear," says Nikki. "Let's make some beans."
At moments like this it seems possible that the site is free of sound not so much to protect the girls' privacy but to protect the site's appeal.
Shit stains, it's universally agreed, would be way too much trouble, so they simply light cigars, slip an appropriate single into the CD player — TLC's "I Don't Want No Scrub" — and start to strip.
"Ooh, my tampon's falling out," says Milla as she pulls down her panties.
In an attempt to stay out of the way, I sit in the chat room. The guys are excited about the show, but I'm the only one they can talk to while my girlfriends are performing.
George: Talk to us, reporter girl. We won't bite.....HARD..
snapper182: If that dark haired fox is the reporter, ask her if she ever made so many cocks hard at once
Herbert: Reporter girl, are you a pervert?
George: Talk to us. We won't bite....HARD..
harddick: tell reporter girl i want to eat her pussy all night
Herbert: I know that william safire always takes his top off
hurrah: the reporter girl is nippy and wet
snapper182: If that dark haired fox is the reporter, ask her if she ever made so many guys cum at once
harddick: hey rept girl your tits could use a good fondling
Herbert: Are you really doing a story on this? That is so lame.
rexx: do you think the reporter wants to write a story on the color of her nipples?
Jesus. Why am I taking this shit? I'm not getting paid to sit in this chair. I go hide in Hammil's bedroom, the only room off camera. It's not like I haven't heard this crap, or some version of it before. Every day of my life in New York City, anywhere between one and ten men say something unsolicited to me about
what I look like. Usually they like my breasts, my smile or my eyes. They ask for my phone number or if I'll come to a party in Queens. When I was 16, a man approached me as I made a call in a phone booth on the Upper West Side and offered me a wad of twenties to blow him. I walked down a street in SoHo last week eating a popsicle and some guy yelled out of a convertible: "I know a couple other holes I'd like to put that in!"
I think about what Tamra said when I asked her about street harassment. "It used to really piss me off. You're just walking in a store, in your car, wherever, and all kinds of guys are saying shit to you. It's like, 'How can you say something so gross to someone you've never even met?' It blows my mind that they can be so crude. You know, 'What would your mom say?'" I point out that she's chosen a job that requires her to hear guys tell her the same kinds of thing online.
"But my quote of the day is if you can't beat 'em, join 'em," she says. "I used to get so pissed off at my boyfriend for having porn mags or talking about other chicks in front of me. Now working here kinda gives me a chance to say, If the guys are out there, why not? 'Cause this is what they want. 'Cause I'm going to be fighting a losing battle, you know? 'Cause there's no way to make them act different."
hurrah: I guess I wasn't breast fed because I am starved for the reporter girl's titties
kellog: nice tits im guessing 36C
fatbastard: i like the reporter girl's and tamra's tits equally well
Once I've composed myself, I join Tamra in her bedroom. I'll be sleeping in her bed tonight since she's taking a "stay out" night with her boyfriend. Right now she's changing her sheets for me — "It's no problem, really," she insists. Along with Nikki, I keep Tamra company as she searches for a clean set of sheets.
Above us, there's a green sign that says ABSOLUTELY NO FEEDING OF THE ANIMALS and a poster of Dali's melting clocks. There's also a cam directly above me, which I realize has a nice view of my cleavage. I move.
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