iHate Who I've Become
Chapter 1: Under Voyeuristic Eyes
The hot water can temporarily relax away your stress, and can somewhat wash away the stench and evidence of the day's work, but will never get rid of your disgust and hatred of yourself rooted deep within your soul.
Spencer Shay stood under a chrome-finished shower head, hot water raining down on the back of his head and back. The temperature of the water was a lot hotter than he was comfortable with, but just stood there as the scalding water stung his skin. He knew that his back, and the rest of his body, would be beet red by the time he stepped out, but he just didn't care anymore. He simply stood in the small stall, staring down at his feet, without movement.
After taking a deep breath, Spencer reached for a small ledge on the right side of the stall, fully stocked with things like shampoo, conditioner, soap, body wash, and the like. He hated using the cleaning products here; he hated using anything in this room in general, but he needed to try and clean himself. He would be heading home soon, and there was no way in Hell that he would ride on a bus and walk around his apartment building reeking of sweat and pure sex.
He lathered his long brunette hair and rinsed it as quickly as possible. He knew they were watching him. Slowly, he looked into the showerhead so the water was stinging at his cheeks and forehead. Taking both hands, he wiped his face and rubbed his eyes before reaching straight out and turning the dial all the way to the right so the flow of water stopped.
Spencer stepped out of the shower onto a once-fuzzy blue bathmat. It was old, and really needed to be thrown in the washing machine. Regardless of how many cycles it went through, though, he knew it wouldn't be able to get out all the stains that were within the fabric's fibers. He finally put his head up and looked around the room after wrapping a nearby towel around his waist, not hesitating to give two middle fingers to the various cameras he knew were placed around the room. He knew that, in the shower stall alone, there were at least three recording his actions from different angles.
They didn't care, though. They would still take the footage of his shower and slap it up on various websites within the next couple hours. He wondered what the clip would be advertised as—Lonely Boyfriend/Husband? Dejected Lover? Cold Shower? He sighed, and knew there was a possibility that they would keep his "salutes" in the video and advertise him as a Sexy Bad Boy.
Soon Spencer had gotten dressed in form-fitting jeans and a white, hooded long-sleeve shirt. Carelessly, he flung his discarded towel to the bathroom floor before leaving, skin still slightly pink from the hot water. He knew that the footage captured there might be used, too, and advertised as something corny such as, "the sexy pool boy gets changed and leaves quickly as his mistress's husband comes home!"
As he tried to exit the studio, he seemed to be the only one there dressed. Naked men and women approached him and fawned over him, trying to seduce them for their personal needs. "Great work today, Brock," women cooed, while men winked at him and expressed their joy about seeing him tomorrow. However, Spencer did not stop to talk to anyone. He kept walking, and tried to tune out the sets and scenes he was walking past. In just under two minutes he had seen a 'naughty teacher' spank her female 'student' with a whip while a male 'principal' played with himself; a woman in a terrible blonde wig with pigtails be penetrated as she screamed as loud as she could; a woman clamping wooden clothes pins onto the nipples of her male 'slave' in a dungeon-like setting; and two men fucking like animals on only a small mattress, both overacting and panting way more than they should've.
Ever since Spencer had joined this studio just under a year ago, he refused to interact with his co-workers unless absolutely necessary. He hated the business and the idea in general of what he was doing, and regardless of who he talked to there the subject always came up. "Who was your best fuck?" they would ask him, right before a seductive, "I don't think I've gotten into your pants yet." Somehow, they thought they were using good pick-up lines on him. In all reality, though, he thought they were acting like idiots.
Finally reaching the end of the studio, he exited the building and walked for about two blocks or so to the nearest bus stop. It was a chilly night in Seattle, and he used his arms to try and hug himself to stay warm as he arrived at the stop. After reaching for his wallet in his back pocket, he fished around for his bus pass before putting the wallet back, sitting down on a cold bench, and waited.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZBT.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZBT.
Spencer jumped in the silence as his phone began to ring, and realized that he needed to take it off of vibrate as soon as he ended this call. Reaching into his front pocket, he tugged out his PearPhone and took a deep breath before answering and putting the phone to his ear.
"Hello? Oh, hey. Mm-hmm. Yeah. Yeah, no, don't worry. I'm just about to leave Socko's now, so I'll be home in about twenty minutes. I'll see you soon, Carly."
To Be Continued…
Next Chapter: Spencer returns home to Carly, who is completely unaware of anything her older brother is doing, and we learn the reasons why Spencer is in this business in the first place.
