Chapter 5

The next morning, Daria slipped into her school uniform and opened her drawer, searching for a clean pair of underwear. Her hand paused as she came across a thong. With a look of distaste, she picked it up, bringing it close for a quick sniff. The lingering scent repulsed her, as she imagined in wedged up the crack of Anya or Irina or both. Disgusted, she quickly pushed it aside. She opted instead for a sensible pair of white panties, pulling them on with a sense of relief. She then added white socks, followed by the familiar plaid skirt, and completed her outfit with a matching white bra, blouse, and cardigan. As she brushed her hair, her mind wandered back to the looming exam tomorrow.

As Daria entered the kitchen, she found her sister Anya lounging in just pajama shorts and a top. “Where’s Irina?” Daria asked, surprised that her sister’s girlfriend wasn’t around for once.

“She went out last night and stayed over at some DJ’s place. He’s cute, so I can’t blame her,” Anya replied, a bit too casually as she sipped her orange juice.

“Why don’t you come to school, Anya?” Daria asked, her voice carrying a note of concern. “It’s not too late—you still have two years left. It’s only been a few weeks since you dropped out.”

“I don’t know, school’s boring. I don’t learn anything there,” Anya said with a dismissive shrug.

“And what exactly are you learning by shaking your ass in front of a camera in your bedroom?” Daria snapped, frustration creeping into her tone. “In two years, you could be graduating like me!”

“I don’t have your brains, Daria. I have to use what I’ve got,” Anya said, slapping her buttocks with a laugh, as if it was all just a joke.

“And what are you planning to do all day today? Come on, get dressed and come to school with me,” Daria urged, trying to appeal to her sister’s sense of responsibility.

“The buttons on my school blouse are all ripped off—don’t ask how,” Anya giggled, “and I’ve cut the skirt so short they’d kick me out if I showed up in it.”

“So what are you going to do instead?” Daria asked, incredulous at how easily her sister dismissed school.

“I’ll go around town, maybe do some shopping,” Anya shrugged again. “I could buy you a watch or get Mummy a new dress for this guy she’s interested in.”

“We don’t need your money, Anya,” Daria snapped, grabbing her schoolbag and marching out the door.

Daria spent the day in class, half-listening to the teacher while anxiously worrying about the exam tomorrow. Her thoughts drifted to Irina, who had once been a bit of a troublemaker in class until she dropped out two years ago, much like Anya had now. Daria had always suspected that Irina harbored a crush on her. She recalled the notes Irina used to write and how her underwear would mysteriously go missing from sports practice after returning from a shower—an odd occurrence that had ceased once Irina stopped attending school.

Anya was bored. Camming without Irina felt empty, and the thrill of living in Chișinău had faded long ago. Despite the money, her life felt monotonous. Looking for a distraction, she decided to head out. She slipped into a pair of tiny denim shorts that clung to her hips, the frayed pockets poking out, and the gusset cut away, leaving only a thin strip of denim stitching. When she sat down, it almost exposed the black knickers she wore underneath.

She tied her shirt at the waist, revealing her taut stomach and belly button. The top buttons of her shirt were left undone, showing just a hint of cleavage. With her small breasts, she didn’t bother with a bra. She slipped on a pair of sandals and grabbed a small backpack, in case she decided to shop.

She basked in the attention as men leered at her, each glance boosting her confidence and adding an extra bounce to her step. When a builder cheekily slapped her bottom as she strolled by, she didn’t miss a beat—she threw a playful glance over her shoulder, stuck out her tongue with a mischievous giggle, and kept walking with a satisfied grin.

Even with her credit card backed by her webcam money, Anya couldn’t resist the thrill of slipping into a shop, casually stealing a can of soft drink, and walking out grinning to herself as she sipped it. A text from Irina soon popped up on her phone, and they agreed to meet up downtown.

Irina, who had no real home of her own, was used to drifting between places—an abusive ex-boyfriend’s house, her parents who didn’t want to see her, or staying with Anya or various flings. She was more than happy to leave the DJ she had slept with the night before and met up with Anya near the central train station, still wearing the mini dress and heels from the night before.

“Hey, babe,” Anya greeted her with a hug.

“Hey, Anya,” Irina replied, returning the embrace.

“You look rough,” Anya giggled. “Hope the guy was good in the sack.”

Irina waved her little finger and frowned, and both girls burst into giggles. Onlookers couldn’t help but stare at the two scantily clad girls, especially Irina, who looked stunning in her cocktail dress and heels so early in the day.

“I need underwear, Anya. I left my knickers at his place—I figured he deserved them,” Irina giggled. “You look cute; I want an outfit like yours!”

The girls went shopping, picking out a thong, a pair of denim shorts, and a T-shirt for Irina. They found a secluded alley around the corner, where a homeless man sat destitute. Irina grinned mischievously, “Hey there, want a treat?”

The man watched in amazement as Irina pulled the dress over her head, leaving her naked except for her heels. She twirled the dress playfully before tossing it over the man’s head, laughing.

They spent the afternoon wandering around, playing at amusement arcades, and eventually buying a joint, which they smoked together before boredom set in again. “Maybe we should cam at my place,” Anya suggested, feeling a spark of arousal as she caught sight of Irina’s pale thighs reflecting the sun.

“Happy to,” Irina agreed with a mischievous smile. “But first, let’s get some lunch. I have an idea.” She noticed where they were, near the wealthy central sector of the city.

The girls approached a tall, dark gentleman sitting outside a café, reading a newspaper, smoking an expensive cigar, and sipping coffee. He wore large-rimmed glasses, and his tailored suit spoke of wealth and status. “Must be some kind of banker,” Irina whispered to Anya.

“Hey, mister,” Irina greeted him with a sly smile. The gentleman looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her alabaster skin and fiery red hair. “Yes?” he responded, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“We’re hungry. Buy us some chocolate cake,” Irina said, her face serious. “We can eat it at your table.”

“Yeah, we’re starving,” Anya chimed in, sliding into the seat opposite him.

“Shouldn’t you girls be in school?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow and adjusting his glasses, though he seemed more amused than concerned.

“I like this,” Irina said, picking up the menu and pointing to an expensive Black Forest gâteau. “It’s so delicious,” she added, making an exaggerated, almost comical show of licking her lips.

“Come on, mister, you know you want to,” Anya added, staring at him intently. The man couldn’t help but notice the way her skimpy denim shorts barely concealed her black knickers.

“Very well then, as an act of charity, I shall,” the man smiled. “Waiter, two Black Forest gâteaux and two lemonades for the ladies. And for myself, another coffee.”

“Oh, and three vodkas, please,” Irina added suddenly. The waiter paused, eyeing her suspiciously. “Are you over eighteen?”

“Yeah, of course. Otherwise, we’d be in school, wouldn’t we?” Anya shot back, her tone sharp.

The waiter glanced at the man, silently asking if he wanted to reconsider indulging these two girls. But the man just smiled and waved him off. “It’s fine. I can treat these ladies to a vodka.”

“It’s boring not to drink, especially if you’re rich,” Anya said, sizing the man up. She liked camming and had toyed with the idea of moving up to something more lucrative, like prostitution. This man was rich and handsome, but the thought of sleeping with random men still made her shudder. Camming with Irina felt much safer and far more fun.

“Well, you young ladies are enjoying the dawn of life. For us older folks, we have to pace ourselves and work for a living,” the man replied with an apologetic smile.

“What are you, then? A lawyer? A banker?” Irina asked, slightly irritated that she couldn’t ruffle his composure.

“I work internationally in recruitment,” he said, his voice smooth yet laced with an unsettling edge. “I connect people—those with unique talents, passions, and needs—with others who have a demand for exactly that. I take individuals and place them in positions where they can truly ... thrive. Sometimes, it’s a matter of helping them discover their true potential, whether they like it or not.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in, his gaze cold and calculating. “You see, I specialize in finding the right fit for everyone, even if it means guiding them into roles they never imagined—or desired. That’s my business.”

Irina and Anya exchanged intrigued glances, their giggles masking any unease that might have flickered in their minds. “I want to leave this place,” Anya spoke up, a spark of curiosity in her voice as she wondered if this man might be an opportunity. “I’m fed up with Moldova. As soon as I’m eighteen, I’m out of here,” she said, quickly adding, “I mean, err...”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” the man replied with a knowing smile. He observed the subtle exchange between the two girls, noting that Irina seemed more invested in Anya than the other way around.