Free The Player by Camille Leone

contest, your face is her face. I gotta tell you, I really like the other photo of you in that big bird costume, when you were about twenty.”
    “I didn’t look like big bird!”
    “I know, I know. Big bird is yellow and your costume was green. Plus you looked sexy as hell.” After a minute or two of watching her neatly folding up his clothes, Kyle tilted his head, asking, “ Do you still have your outfit?”
    “It’s around here somewhere. I don’t know why I kept it. There was a time I really could’ve used the money if I’d sold it. I guess it brings back memories, because winning that contest was the one of the high points of my life.”
    “I wish I could’ve seen you dance live back then.” He was sprawled on her bed with one of his long legs cocked up while the other was diagonal, his heel along the mattress edge. The way his legs were divided gave her a clear view of what lay heavy and thick between his legs.
    The way his eyes got that dreamy look in them, like he was imagining a number of things with her in that outfit gave Harlow an idea. “Close your eyes. Don’t open them until I tell you,” she ordered. “You’ve been a very good boy so I think you deserve a reward.”
    “I hope it’s what I think it is. But I maybe I’m wrong. Are you gonna do it? Are you gonna-”
    “Shhh . . . it’ll be worth the wait.”
    All he could hear were footsteps racing from one room to another. The sound of hangers getting rifled and a short curse of frustration at not finding what she wanted made him think that the outfit was already packed away. Finally Harlow came huffing back into her master bedroom, rummaging deep in her closet, going into another room, searching for something in there, then he could hear her in the bathroom struggling with something. After what seemed like an eternity of getting hollered at because he kept trying to peek, she told him to open his eyes.
    And what he saw, it was . . . it was beyond words. She was beyond words.
    There were green feathers, diamonds – at least he thought they were diamonds – they could’ve been that other stuff women wear to make outfits like that sparkle. Whatever the hell they were, the little buggers really popped in the just the right places. Her headdress was adorned with feathers and silvery, shiny little beads also. Fuck. Why couldn’t he recall what those things were? All he knew was what stood before him, dressed like the women in the comic books he liked to read as a kid, her body curvy and soft and spilling out of a very skimpy superhero outfit like it was painted on. God, she was beautiful. So gorgeous, that his dick reacted in a salute. 
    “Would you like to see how I danced?” Her voice was practically a purr.
    He licked his lips in anticipation. “Oh yes, I’d like that very much.”
    Gyrating her hips to a beat only she could hear, Harlow started out slow and sensuous, like she was fucking the very air he breathed. With her behind undulating and her middle rolling, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She had him hypnotized, that’s how charismatic her performance was. Rhinestones. That’s what they were called. He was so caught up that he didn’t even realize he’d been stroking himself each time she’d air hump. Alluringly uninhibited with her movements, as she danced Kyle was a captive audience.
    While the effect of jostling feathers stuck to what looked like a rhinestoned thong was the stuff of wet dreams, he was missing most of the action back there. He needed to see her delicious and oh so delectable apple bottom. “Take that off,” he commanded.
    His suggestion couldn’t have come at a better time. The bottom of her costume was tight as hell, giving her an unbearable wedgie. The majority of her rhinestones had popped off and were lining the floor, a casualty of a thirty-five year old booty forced into an outfit from her twenties. Once she was free of that bottom part, Kyle’s tongue was practically hanging out of his