So he did like cats. That was it, he had to be made from the purest catnip and she was out of her head with the contact high, that had to be the reason he seemed so perfect and wonderful. And then there was the way he was touching her, she had to be dreaming or high or something.
"Who said anything about keeping me? I'll certainly hang around as long as you're putting out food, I might even come in the house on rainy nights but I wouldn't be yours to keep." there was one of the many surface parts of the great 'Roxy is fucked up' iceberg. She wasn't the sort to be kept or to keep, didn't like the idea of being trapped anywhere with anyone even if it was love that was keeping her there. Her stray cat analogy wasn't all that far off really, she'd keep coming around, even for years if that was what she wanted, but the minute someone tried to keep her in the house she would bolt and it would be a long time before she considered coming back.
She let him go when he pulled back, their words and movements almost like a dance now. "Oh I wouldn't have to strip you down completely, we could work it out where we could keep most of our clothes on. That's part of the benefits of wearing a dress, just have pull it up a little, not to mention now nice modern men's pants are." she chuckled, "Right, and if I were being any less subtle right now I'd have it tattooed on my forehead."