<div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: comic sans ms;"><span class="bbc_u"><strong>►Chantal◄</strong></span></span></span></div>► Company:  Triste<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Chantal_zps0a3ae8a7.jpg)</div><br/>Chantal led the way up the stairs and around the landing, and then down the hallway to her room,  the last along that hall.  She opened the door and invited him in, both with a small sweep of her hand and acknowledging with a proper invitation, in case he required it.<em>"Welcome, Lord Richleau ... entrez, s'il vous plaît."</em><br/><br/>She waited until he had entered, then closed the door behind them ... and then locked it.<em>"To ensure our privacy, nothing more.  At times, zhose at zhe bar lose zheir manners in zheir glass."</em><br/><br/>She moved into the room's center, inviting his gaze upon the the room where she practiced much of her art, a small crack into the window of her soul ... a fact that most chose not to see.    There, she waited, watching him with eyes both curious and smoldering with the beginnings of hunger.<em>"And how do you wish to begin zhe dance, my lord?"</em><br/><br/>