<div class="floatright">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Chantal_zps0a3ae8a7.jpg)</div><br/>Though the clients, or lovers, that Chantal preferred were not men entire, Chantal still thought of them as such in her heart of hearts.  The ones wealthy enough to afford such rates as Madame Velvet's had learned more patience than the true men she had known, but perhaps that too was simply an artifact that the security of wealth and time had purchased. Lord Richleau's courtesy and adeptness at teasing her senses was to her the steps of a new dance, the verses to a song whose chorus was unknown in its entirety but familiar nonetheless.<br/><br/>The heat from his hands as he lightly tested the weight and fullness of her breasts was delicate, like a drop of warm honey suspended above the tongue from one of the kitchen's flaky pastries.  The air itself caught the taste and scent of the pleasure to come and communicated it to the senses with an intensity that was all the sweeter for its foreshadowing.  Chantal closed her eyes and savored it, enjoying the sound of his voice and the timbre of it that spoke of a slow rising arousal like the bayou tides.<br/><br/>Her eyes felt heavy as part of her succumbed to the spell of his praises, folding away the other side that had seen how fleeting the words and desires of men could be like a coverlet made temporarily unnecessary by the winter sun's warmth.<em>"With words as sweet as yours, Lord Richleau, you hardly need zhe the touch of your hands or zhe press of your lips to captivate.  I am  all zhe more fortunate zhat you have chosen to grace me with all three."</em><br/><br/>The words came easily to Chantal, but she realized with some surprise that truth and flatterey blended so closely as to be one in the same. The loosening ties of her stays were sweet torture, leaving her longing for the moment when his hands would roam over skin laid bare and when she might touch him in return, to watch his eyes darken and feel his body quicken to hers.  So hypnotic was the anticipation blending with his words that she almost missed the full import of his words until she felt the cold caress of metal and pearls as he drew it slowly across her throat to fasten it in place where she felt it warm to her skin in much the same manner as her body had heated to his lightest touch.<br/><br/>Her fingers moved up to touch the pearls, and she turned to the mirror slowly, leaning back against Lord Richleau as if her body gravitated toward his warmth.  She lifted her head, and turned slightly so that the gem caught the light from the window, and drank in the beauty of their mingled reflection, all the lovelier for the presence of Triste's dark, seductive beauty in the background.<br/><br/>A shrug of her shoulders released the corset's loosened grasp, and it slid slowly down to the floor, leaving her upper torso bare save for the lovely adornment presented by Triste that glowed against her skin, highlighted by the frame of the man behind her.   After a moment, she shook her head almost regretfully.<em>"Lord Richleau, I am honored beyond words, but it is too great a gift.  I would welcome you as my lover this night for zhe pleazure of your company and your touch alone."</em><br/><br/>A spell indeed, for Chantal had thought she had learned that such tributes were the only things that truly lasted, long after the sweet words had turned stale and the memories of pleasure had faded to a lifeless ache.<br/>