I hate long flights. Actually, I hate any flights, but I especially hate long ones. The irony of being named Skye isn’t lost on me. I hope this one is going to be worth it though. All fifteen hours from LA to Sydney. I’ve got a lot riding on it.

A few of my TikToks really took off earlier this year. The organizers of the Creators Summit in Australia picked me as one of their rising stars and asked me to be a guest at their big event. It’s a good thing I got the invite then, because my videos have fallen out of the algorithm and it’s been a struggle to get back. Each week that went by without one of my vids taking off made me worry they’d change their minds about me. But the plane ticket showed up in my inbox a few days ago, just like they said it would.

This is a massive opportunity for me. There’s potential for partnerships, brand deals, and most importantly the chance to make content with the best creators in the world. That’s my way back into millions of feeds. I just can’t fuck it up.

I’m not going to lie. I’m a bit of a mess, so I borrowed some Xanax from my sister. All I have to do is get through the flight without losing my mind, so when I land in Sydney I’m ready to prove that I can be a top influencer.

The plane took off just before midnight. My phone says it’s almost 3AM. I don’t see anyone around me who isn’t sleeping already. I wish I could be too, but I have to get another TikTok out. I dropped one earlier from the airport, and another when I got on the plane. The Creators Summit hashtag gave both of them some traction. Now I need to keep it going with something inflight.

I don’t want to wake anyone up. I’m not one of those obnoxious TikTokers. I’m just going to shoot some quick video, slap a song over it, and fill the screen with text. It won’t be my best work, but it’ll keep my momentum going in the algorithm.

It doesn’t take long. Me in my seat, a shot out the window, a quick look around the cabin at everyone sleeping, then back to me dancing in my seat to a song I haven’t yet picked. It’s basic, but it’ll do. I google some songs about travel, flights, planes, jets, anything I can think of. It has to be old. That’s meta right now. Dig up some song that people forgot they used to love. Once they hear the first few notes, they stick around and the views pile up. ChatGPT suggests Madonna’s “Holiday.” Done.

I take the Xanny before I start editing. My sister told me to take half, but I take the whole thing. Editing should only take thirty minutes. But it takes forty because partway through I start feeling fuzzy and everything slows down. The last things I do are the text overlays. They tell the story of the video so I don’t have to record any audio. I set the vid to go live in eight hours. It’ll be popping off when I wake up. The timing is perfect.

I check the Qantas app. We’re still scheduled to land on time. I’m going right from the airport to the convention hall. I’m a guest, but not a featured guest. That means I have to be there early. The big names get to show up whenever they want. What I wouldn’t give to walk into that place and have people already know who I am.

I’m about to drift off in my seat when I hear someone say, “Wake up.” I don’t think they’re talking to me, so I ignore it, but the voice comes back more insistent. “Wake the fuck up.” I’m ready to kill, but when I open my eyes there’s no one around who isn’t still sleeping. I get up on my knees and look in all directions. Nothing. No one. This is why I hate flying. I get so stressed out I can’t think straight. I sit back down in my seat and close my eyes again.

“I’m not going away.”

The voice is loud, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. It has to be someone close. I look at the guy in the seat next to me. He’s got a sleep mask on, but I poke him anyway. He doesn’t move. I do it again. Still no reaction. The guy behind me is snoring, and the woman next to him is slumped over, drooling on herself. I feel like I’m losing it. One Xanax isn’t doing the job. I take another.

I wait a few minutes before closing my eyes. The voice comes back the second I do.

“I know who you are.”

“Who are you?” I whisper.

You don’t have to talk out loud. I’m in your head.

Who are you? I think.

See, it works. The voice goes quiet for a second. I’m a big fan.

You like my TikToks?

They’re fine, HeyitsSkye. But I much prefer your other work, SinfulSkye.

Hearing that name makes me freeze up. I try to deny it. I don’t know who that is.

I know everything about you, Skye.

I wanted to doubt it, but couldn’t. Some part of me knew it was true. Get out of my head.

I can’t. Put your earbuds in.

I want you out of my head.

We’re doing this, Skye. It will be far less embarrassing if others don’t hear.

I want to fight, but my hands are already taking my earbuds out of their charging case.

What are we doing?

You know what we’re doing, SinfulSkye. Go to the video. Don’t be shy. You know the one.

Again I don’t want to, but my hands keep moving on their own. I go to Pornhub and search for a name I haven’t used since I was eighteen.

Click on the video.

I don’t want to.

I didn’t ask you if you wanted to do it. I told you to do it.

I keep doing what it says. I can’t make myself stop.

Senior year, when you dyed your hair black. Remember that? Part of your goth phase. But that’s you, isn’t it, Skye?

That’s me.

And who’s that in bed next to you?

My ex-boyfriend. Ethan.

He’s about to do naughty things to you, isn’t he?

Yes.

Let’s watch the video now. Let it play.

I really don’t want to see it. I’ve done everything I can to forget about it. I tried deleting it, but I lost access to the email associated with the account. Now all I can do is hope and pray that no one who sees it recognizes me and makes the connection to who I am now.

You’re a natural, far more aware of the camera than Ethan is. When your panties come off, you’re not even looking at him. He’s the last thing on your mind. You’re thinking about all the guys jacking off and adding your video to their favorites list.

Please stop.

Stop? Oh no. We haven’t seen the best parts yet.

I’m still not in control. I try to drop my phone, but my hand won’t let go. I want to. I look at it and tell it to let go, but my fingers won’t fucking move.

How delicious, watching a younger you sucking Ethan’s cock for the camera. You don’t even look nervous. You’re more like a seasoned pro. The viewers thought so too. Look at the top comment. Someone called you the amateur throat GOAT. You were once the best at something.

I was young and stupid. I’m glad I’m not famous for this.

Ah. There it is. Fame. This wasn’t your first attempt at it, wasn’t it?

I had a YouTube channel before.

Right. But no one gave a shit about your stupid makeup tutorials. What did those get, a couple hundred views? Spreading your legs and moaning like a whore got three hundred thousand. Just imagine if you actually promoted it and did more videos. Stardom was right there for you.

This isn’t what I want. It would destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for.

Would it? Look at you, on your hands and knees, back arched, just waiting for Ethan to fuck you. You look so good. Taking cock is exactly what you should be doing. Look how desperate you are for it.

I was. I wanted him so badly.

Him? Or the fame being a slut would bring?

Both. But that was back then. I can do it the right way. The Creators Summit. That’s going to make me.

Are you sure?

I don’t want to answer, but I can’t stop myself from thinking it. Maybe not.

Maybe not. The voice laughs. You can’t lie to me. Not like you did to Ethan.

I didn’t lie to him.

He thought he found the love of his life. But he was just a pawn, someone naïve enough to get in front of the camera with you.

Please stop.

Not yet. We haven’t seen my favorite part. Go on, fast forward. You know the scene.

I skip to the end. Past the doggy-style. Past me riding him. I can’t even watch the part where he made me cum. The first real orgasm I ever had was caught on video. But it wasn’t from Ethan. It was from knowing that people would be watching.

Here, right? The cum shot? This is what you want to see?

Of course it is, my dear. Tell me about it. Why does it haunt you?

When I grab the camera… the close-up of my face. The rest of the video is a bit grainy. The lighting wasn’t the best. But this? That’s me. That’s my face with a load of cum on it. The black hair doesn’t hide anything.

Oh, the fear of this getting out must be something terrible.

There’d be no turning back. TikTok would be over. Every comment would be calling me a slut. Shopify doesn’t work with whores. I can’t push cosmetics if every time someone sees my face they think of it covered in cum.

How many creators will be at the Summit?

Thousands, with billions of views between them.

What a story it would be. An up-and-coming TikTok influencer’s secret porn past. If this video leaked, especially right now, you’d go viral.

I told you. I think I can do it the right way.

There’s that hint of doubt again. But this would be a sure thing, wouldn’t it?

I guess so.

You’re a cute young blonde with big tits. You see the way men stare at you. And the TikToks that got all the views... remind me, what were you wearing in them?

It had nothing to do with that. I worked hard on those vids.

And when the views dried up? Did you stop working hard, or did you start wearing more than a skimpy top?

The Summit is going to help me.

Help what? You already know what people want from you. Give it to them. And don’t pretend watching that video didn’t make you wet.

A little.

More than a little. That’s not from making a “Lunch in My City” TikTok. It’s from you taking cock on camera. Go ahead and pull your skirt up.

Not here.

Yes. Here. No one is watching.

My hand follows the instructions of the voice. My skirt comes up, and my legs open at the same time, like they’re part of the same motion.

Good girl. Now get your fingers between your legs and put on a show for me like you would for the camera.

My legs are spread as far as I can get them in the narrow seat. I pull my panties to the side and run two fingers up and down the length of my pussy a few times, then let them sit on my clit as I rub circles.

That’s it. There you go. Feels good, doesn’t it?

Yes.

Put your leg up on the armrest. You’ll be able to open your legs wider.

I look at the man next to me.

Don’t worry about him. He’s sound asleep. And you really think he’s going to complain if he wakes up to you playing with your pussy?

Nothing forces my leg up. I’m the one doing it. I just can’t seem to make myself stop. My legs are open wider in my new position. I can get my whole hand between my legs now.

That’s it, Skye. Let me watch while you make yourself cum.

What if someone wakes up?

Look at you, all coy. As if getting caught wouldn’t make it even better. Now make yourself cum.

My hand starts moving faster. My fingers slide in and out while my palm puts pressure on my clit.

Your nipples need some attention. Put your other hand under your shirt.

A few seconds later I’m pinching my nipple and flicking my thumb against it.

Big tits like that and you didn’t even wear a bra. Don’t try to pretend you don’t love the attention. You liked being SinfulSkye for the camera, didn’t you?

“Yes,” I whisper, trying to cover a moan.

Then do it again. Take a picture. Just for you. A souvenir of that time when you got so horny you had to rub one out in a plane full of sleeping passengers.

I put my phone in camera mode. The crazy thing is I even pose for it, making the same face I do in all my selfies. I don’t even think about it. It just happens.

When the flash goes off, I feel it in my pussy. Just knowing the moment has been captured brings me back to that afternoon with Ethan. I’m finger-fucking myself with one hand while the other stays hard on my clit. I’m struggling to stay quiet. I’m about to cum. I push my mouth into the side of my arm when it hits. My whole body is shaking.

“Oh fuck,” I say too loudly.

You little slut. Look at you now.

I go to pull my skirt down, but neither of my hands move.

I think you should stay like that. Just for a minute or two. But lick your fingers clean.

Please. Let me cover up. My fingers are already in my mouth.

Show me the end of the video again. The cum on your face.

I’m able to pick up my phone. I go back a minute. Ethan’s on top of me, fucking me hard.

That’s it. Watch it again. You’re still that girl.

He tells me that he’s going to cum. He’s not sure what to do. We didn’t think that far ahead. “Cum on my face,” I blurt out. He looks shocked and doesn’t move. “Hurry,” I say. “On my face.” He pulls out and crawls up beside me on his knees. He strokes himself a few times. I wait for him with my eyes and mouth wide open. I reach for the camera and pull it in closer. I blink and turn my head a bit when the first shot hits my cheek and forehead. After that, I smile and take the rest of it without flinching.

SinfulSkye.

I feel my whole body relax. I can move again.

Hello? I think.

Nothing.

“Hello?” I say softly.

Still nothing. I start doubting everything, but when I open my phone and look at my pictures, there I am, legs spread wide with two fingers stuffed in my pussy. I close it quickly.

What the fuck just happened?

I don’t remember falling asleep, but the voice woke me up. It’s nearly been eight hours. Check the video.

I’m groggy, but I open a browser to Pornhub. Maybe the video magically got taken down or something. It’s still there.

Not that video. TikTok.

I check my clock. My vid goes live in three minutes. I watch it one last time.

Madonna starts playing. That’s the hook.

I’m sitting in my seat looking cute. AUSTRALIA HERE I COME. A kangaroo emoji.

A shot out the window. BYE-BYE AMERICA. I’LL BE HOME SOON! Hearts and waving hands.

Everyone sound asleep. I’M THE LAST ONE UP! Zzzz Zzzz.

Back to me. I’m swinging my head and dancing. GIVE IT UP FOR QUEEN MADONNA. A crown and sceptre.

Then a close-up of my face. I’ve seen that expression before. Smiling, not flinching. SEE YOU SOON. SINFULSKYE. A heart with an arrow through it.

Everything looks— oh fuck. Oh fuck. The text overlay. SinfulSkye, not HeyitsSkye. How do I stop this from going live?

I’m panicking, freaking the fuck out. My thumb scrambles to find the delete button, then right before confirming, an intrusive thought slips in. What happens if I don’t stop it? I’ll be the biggest story at the Creators Summit before the plane even touches down at Sydney Airport. All the top influencers, all talking about me. It’d be a different kind of fame, but everyone will know who I am.

I’ve got thirty seconds to decide.