Playmate Profiles - Episode 12

She came wrapped like a present—red satin strained across her hips, a silver bow sitting crooked at the cleft of her ass. The Campbells had no shame about it. They wanted you looking. Wanted the fabric to ride up, wanted the lace to bite into soft flesh while she bent to light the tree. When she straightened, the hem lifted another inch and you saw the full curve, both cheeks, the faint sheen where she’d oiled them. She didn’t pretend it was an accident. She just glanced back, eyes bright, and let the dress fall an inch farther down one thigh. The stockings, sheer white, caught on the curve and stayed put. The top of one had already rolled, exposing the pale print of fingers—someone else’s, or maybe hers from earlier, impatient. Under the thin cotton she was bare. You could tell by the way the light slid over the cleft instead of stopping at elastic. Every step made the ribbon tails sway between her thighs. She paused in the doorway, one knee cocked, and the bow slipped lower, threatening to come undone with nothing more than a breath. The Campbells had given you twice the trouble this year, and exactly twice the reward.