The paper bat taped to the bar kept hitting my hat. Cider on my mouth. Seamed stockings. I slipped into coat check with his voice already in my ear and told him the little horns stayed on. That was Halloween phone sex in a rented hall, between other people’s coats.

I described the costume the way a pinup describes a pose. Black wiggle dress. Cheap velvet devil tail pinned at the hip. Red mouth. The party record too loud to hide what I was saying. He was in his car. I was in October, acting like the month belonged to me.

He wanted the dress off. I said the clothes stay a minute longer than manners. Halloween phone sex likes a costume that works. I had him stroke to the sway I would have done on the dance floor if I were still out there. Stop when a stranger walked past the half-open door. Start when I said the coast was mine again.

Femdom in a rented hall. I told him to thank the costume. Thank the month. Thank the fact I was on the phone instead of dancing with someone who could see my face. No limits on how filthy the coat check got as long as the door stayed a crack. Anything goes if he kept his voice down.

Halloween phone sex again while I talked him through putting his hand where the tail clipped on. I described sitting on the bench with my knees together like a good calendar girl and then opening them because I am not. Seamed stockings. Garter. The October air under the exit door.

He came close too fast. I made him hold it through a whole chorus of whatever song they were murdering. Then I let him cum with the horns still on my head in the story and cider still on my tongue. I laughed into the coats. Pinup devil. Not a sermon. Just a party and a man who paid to be in the closet with me.

I went back to the floor for one song so he could hear the room behind me. Paper bats. Bad cider. Someone’s husband laughing too loud. Then I found the coats again and put him back to work. Halloween phone sex likes a little public in it. Exhibition without leaving the building.

I had him describe what he would do if the door opened. He fumbled. I did not. Pinup girls practice the face that says nothing happened. I used that face in my voice while I told him to finish messy and stay on the line while I powdered my nose.

The compact clicked shut. I told him not to call me sweetheart when I walked back into the lights. Call me Bunny. Next cheap party lives at kinkypinup.com/bunny. Bring cider. I keep the cheap tail.