<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">►Chantal◄</span><br/>► Company:  Triste<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Chantal_zps0a3ae8a7.jpg)</div><br/>Without protest, Chantal followed the guidance of Triste's hands as if every movement were steps of a dance.  She left the discarded fabric upon the floor without more than a glance, and her near nudity discomforted her not a whit.  On the contrary, she enjoyed the contrast in their reflection while feeling no lesser for it.  Lord Richleau's growing arousal was, to her, as heady an accomplishment as was his refusal to accept her demurral of the gift.<br/><br/>There was not even enough time to register alarm as her remaining garmet dissolved from her body with a pure heat that did not smoke or burn, but only freed her from further barriers to the caress of Triste's hand.  Her eyes widened as she watched, but she did not pull away or demur but obediently shifted her stance at the light direction of his fingers so as to let his fingers explore as he pleased.  Her eyes closed for a moment at the first teasing touch across the tips of her breasts and then again at the nip of his teeth against her ear and the warmth of his breath, but only momentarily.  It was fascinating and incredibly decadent and arousing to watch the movement of hands across her body in the reflection as well as witnessing her body's reaction with the sound of Tristan's voice and breath its own lovely melody setting the pace.<br/><br/>She made only one sound, and that when his hand slipped lower across her stomach and over the softness of her thigh to slip between soft folds to tease out the single pearl nestled there, a soft gasp between parted lips as she abandoned the coldness of the mirror's reflection for a heat more encompassing than the rays of the sun that filtered through the glass to the surface of the bed.<br/><br/><em>"Lord Richleau, would you allow me zhe pleasure of discovering the beauty hidden beneath zhe clothes you yet wear?  Though your tailor has chosen a magnificent case, I am certain zhat it cannot compare with zhe rich tones and lines of zhe instrument within." </em>Slowly, she turned to look up into the dark mystery of his eyes, shivering delightfully at the desire smoldering in his gaze, and half raised one hand toward the buttons of his shirt yet to be undone, hesitating only for his approval.