Cosplay had never really been my thing. If I’m honest, role play in general left me feeling a bit stiff, like I was wearing someone else’s skin. But clients have their fantasies, and sometimes you lean into them. This one promised to arrange everything, swore I wouldn’t need to worry. I agreed, half curious, half indifferent. A little secrecy can work its own kind of magic.
I knocked on the Mayfair hotel door at the agreed time. He opened straight away, smiling like he’d been waiting at the keyhole. “Everything’s in the bathroom,” he said, almost too casually, and then slipped back into the bedroom.
That pause at the handle… that was when my nerves spiked. What if it was something grotesque? Something that would twist me out of myself? My head went racing down ridiculous alleys—images that didn’t even make sense. I told myself to stop overthinking, then pushed the door open.
And there it was. A pair of fox ears, soft gloves, a neat little collar, stockings with that sly orange tint. Relief washed through me. It wasn’t grotesque at all—it was almost… sweet. Playful. Cheeky. A foxgirl. I could work with that.
When I finally stepped back into the room, dressed and a little more bare than I expected, he was sprawled on the bed, gaze fixed like a man starving. My skin prickled under it.
“Well,” I murmured, dropping to all fours, letting a smile curve slowly, “are you sure you’re ready to feed a fox?”
His mouth tilted in amusement. “That depends on how she behaves.”
I padded closer, dragging my lips lightly over his chest, testing how quickly I could slip into character. “You can pet a fox,” I breathed, catching his eye, “but you’ll never really tame one.”
“Forgive me if I try anyway.” His hand found me and tugged me onto his lap like he meant it.
And just like that, the game shifted gear. His touches were maddening—light, fleeting, gone before I could chase them. Every flicker of contact stoked something restless in me. Then he gave my tail a firm tug, wicked grin cutting across his face. I let out a sound I hadn’t planned on.
“Oh, so my little fox likes that,” he teased.
Somewhere between the playful taps and his watchful eyes, the pretence fell away. I wasn’t acting anymore. The role had slipped under my skin. By the time he murmured that the night was far from over, I already believed him. And maybe—just maybe—I wanted him to prove it.
If this little fox tale caught your attention, you can read part two of this story to see how the game deepened. Or, if fantasy play is your weakness, why not explore our London cosplay escorts and discover the worlds they can bring to life?