Kitty doesn’t ask. She decides.
There’s something dangerous about how comfortable she is in control. She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need permission. She expects attention — and somehow, she always gets it.
Kitty plays with confidence the way other girls play with lipstick. Every glance is intentional. Every pause feels like a test she already knows you’ll fail.
This isn’t sweetness. This is temptation with teeth.
She enjoys the reaction more than the result — the hesitation, the waiting, the way you find yourself standing a little straighter just to earn her approval. Kitty doesn’t chase. She lets you come to her… and then decides what happens next.
She isn’t cruel. She’s precise.
