He walked in the door and there she was dressed to the nines and looking fine. The costume tonight was a Cat, all in black. His eyes grazed up her body. She was wearing the tall spike heels tied on by ribbons in bows. How she hated those heels flitted across his mind as his eyes slid up her legs to matching bows at the tops of her thigh high stockings. They appeared just below the edge of a wraparound skirt that obscured her upper thighs, it was tied with a bow as well, but a red rose was caught in the knot. His eyes continued upwards, the tight gauze shirt did little to hide the bodice of the lingerie she wore beneath. A collar held a silver bell nestled into the hollow of her neck. Red lips and smoky eyes met his gaze beneath a cat ears headband. She tinkled the bell at her neck with a gloved hand, the smooth fabric covered her past the elbows.
"Hello there Kitty," he said as he shut the door and dropped what he was carrying on a nearby table. He knew the game. He had to say Poor Pussy each time she meowed. If he did 3 times in a row without making any sound of desire, he won, and she removed an article of clothing. If he didn't, he had to remove something and then it would be his turn to meow. If the cat meowed badly, they must also remove something, and a new round began.
"Meow," was the reply.
"Poor Pussy wants some milk, is that it?" he asked moving towards her.
"Meow," was all she said again, but this time nodded her head and approached him.
"Poor Pussy, wants some milk and I have none to give her," he said.
"Meow," her voice dipped to a lower note just before her lips teased his gently, she wasn't even trying yet.
"Poor Pussy, do your feet hurt?" he asked, knowing that she had let him win the first round on purpose. She stepped to the center of the room, with her back towards him he could now see the tail that peeked out from beneath her skirt and he wondered how she had attached it. She bent forwards, teasing her hands down first one leg and then the other to untie them. She kicked them into the corner then turned to him in stocking feet. Now he was in trouble, her mouth pressed to his as she pressed him down into a reclining chair, then straddled his lap.
"Meow," she purred, her face inches from his as she ground her hips down against him.
"Poor Pussy," he gasped, knowing he'd lost the round.
"Ha!" she loosened his tie and pulled it off over his head and dropped it. He slid his hands off the chair arms and smoothed them over her legs from knees to hips, then stopped and stroked his thumbs back and forth, knowing that it teased her.
"Meow," he said softly.
"Poor Pussy," she wrinkled her nose at him and ground her hips against him again in a long slow movement. The forward movement also brought her breasts level with his face.
"Meow," he said and then quickly placed his mouth over her nipple. The fabrics did nothing to dull the sensation of his teeth gently biting.
"Oh!" she moaned and then pulled the gauze shirt over her head, saving her ears from being knocked off at the last second. She slid backwards down his legs and knelt on the floor, then tickled her fingers up the back of his legs to his knees.
