The Trinidad and Tobago Carnival is next Monday and Tuesday. In honor of this festival, I’m lowering the price of The Player to 99 cents.
Excerpt from The Player:
“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 may be 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 mouth. Harlow was his very own Victoria’s Secret model, but the only difference was she could dance. She kept doing this thing where her legs were opening and closing at the same time her butt was rotating in a whole ‘nother rhythm and she was able to keep going all the way to the floor and back up. There were parts on her body that he didn’t even realize could move. It was belly dancing and Hawaiian hula dancing taken to the sensual extreme. Every part of her twitched and bounced and poked out while she kept a smile on her face, like there was nothing to it. Then she dramatically stopped all the action, making him hold his breath in wonderment.
“Can you . . . will you dance like that on top of me?”
“Yuh wat meh boomsie,” she motioned toward her butt. “Or meh nanny?” Using her index finger to swirl over her slit, Harlow gave him a naughty, inviting smile.
The sound he made wasn’t human.