►Chantal◄<br/>► Company:  Triste<br/><br/>Chantal's skin was somewhat the color of dark honey, with little exposure to the sun to darken it further, hinting at the use of parasols, gloves and other protection to keep her skin smooth and supple.  Various bottles upon the dressing table, as well as a light sheen upon her now-bare body, also indicated the pampering that she indulged in to maintain her body's perfection and allure.  Far from being shy, she basked in Triste's gaze and turned to his touches both to welcome the pleasure they brought and because of the sense of fulfillment and substance that his desire afforded.<br/><br/>She responded to the press of his lips and the presence of his tongue with a slight pursing of her full lips, welcoming the tease but not attempting to intensify it, though she missed its tickling warmth as soon as the contact was broken.<br/><br/><em>"But of course, Lord Richleau.  It is no favor, but yet another gift to me.  But, if it please you, would you sit upon the bed instead?  You are very tall ... très grand... and I would very much like to use zhe care and attention zhat such a gift deserves in zhe unwrapping of it."</em><br/><br/>Chantal offered her hand to provide an unneeded escort to the spot she had named, both for the elegance of the gesture and because the attentions he had lavished upon her were deserving of a like response.  His elegance and langour set him apart from the Lousiana society that she had experienced, though in observing it she finally understood what some of the wealthiest tried to mimic but failed. To have said so would have sounded like blatant flattery from her lips, however, and she contented herself with a slow appreciation of his movements and form with her eyes, and with her lips as she delivered the favors he had requested.<br/><br/><em>"I would start, my Lord, with your boots." </em>Before releasing his hand, however, she brought his fingers to her mouth, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss upon the tips of the two that had so deliciously explored the pearl nestled between her folds, her eyes slowly rising up to his as her lips closed once and then again over the tips.<br/><br/>Once he had sunk down upon the bed, Chantal performed a similar movement, easing down to kneel before him, sitting back upon her heels as she determined the lacings and reached out to undo them.  There was yet no good point of access to bestow the favors he had requested, so she counted the fastenings instead silently, and drew the boot gently away before setting it aside and reaching beneath the leg of his trousers to find the hem of his fine stockings to carefully draw it away from the warmth of skin.  When the foot was bare, she gently soothed it with her fingers and palms, then bent and lifted so that her lips could press the four kisses owed for the fastenings upon the upper arch, followed by another to the top of the ankle for the stocking.<br/><br/>Men's feet held no particular fascination for her, however Triste's foot was nearly as elegant as the rest of him.  Feet were, however, quite sensitive to the touch, and a part of the body that was often overlooked in the rush to pay homage to the more accepted erogenous zones. As Chantal gently placed his now bare foot to the rug upon which she knelt, she looked up into his eyes, to better gauge whether he wished her to continue at the same unhurried pace.  She took her time even doing that, gaze drifting in a lazy burn of appreciation up over his pants-clad legs and groin, to the muscular lines of his stomach where the cloth of his shirt was drawn taut.<br/><em><br/>"Shall I continue, Lord Richleau ... mon bel amant?"</em><br/><br/>Chantal continued to address him by his name and title, and would continue to do so unless he requested otherwise, though the endearment tasted sweet upon her tongue.  She enjoyed the reminder that it was no common man she took to her bed that day, and the knowledge that he had chosen her, almost as much as she enjoyed the slow-building heat in both their bodies.