<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/><br/>As Triste complimented her taste, Chantal spared a small moment to glance around the room herself and was pleased by the expected sights.  The furniture she used was her own, gifts from Étienne as part of the settlement for her Plaçage and she had selected the design and sewn the fabric for the drapery herself, with assistance from her mother as they talked of things her life would bring and what was expected of her in return.   The things in the room had seen and absorbed the essences of many things both good and bad, and their familiarity had lent her strength as she adapted to a life her mother could never have envisioned.<br/><br/>She inclined her head at Lord Richleau's compliments in acknowledgement more than modesty.<em>"I am flattered by your regard, my lord, and happy that what you see gives you pleazhure." </em>His accent was very different from the ones she was accustomed to hearing, but it suited him well, silken elegance over something hard and sensual and, she thought, slightly rough around the edges.  Mahogany, perhaps, that exotic wood that so many of New Orleans treasured for their finest pieces, yet still in the process of being worked by a master craftsman.  Chantal shivered pleasantly at the deepening of is voice, letting herself be drawn in by the opening notes of the dance as he slipped off his jacket.<br/><br/>His presence in the room felt natural, as he both blended into the atmosphere and made it his own.  Her eyes followed him as he made the circuit, and then her head, for the simple enticement of watching him move.  Chantal remained otherwise still, allowing him to set the pace and tone of the dance, and only closed her eyes as his abrupt movement closed the distance between them.<br/><br/>She could feel his heat through the fabric, and welcomed it, leaning into his touch and assisting with the removal of the dress with slight graceful movements of her shoulders and arms, her breath quickening ever so slightly as his fingers slid down bared skin.<br/><br/><em>"I sing, Lord Richlieu, and play the pianoforte with passable skill - my mere's gift and her determination." </em>The pretty words he spoke resonated within her, despite her knowing them false ... or if not false, truth found only in the moment ... but she thrilled to them nonetheless, just as her body responded to the light, gentlemanly press of his arousal at her back.<br/><br/>Though she was not sure whether he truly wished to hear her voice, or merely wanted the assurance that her body sung to his, she nonetheless sang a few notes of a lullaby her mother had sung to her, in more innocent days before she knew the double entendre of the simple words.<br/><br/><em>"Au clair de la lune,<br/>On n'y voit qu'un peu."<br/></em><br/>The words faded away to a soft, melodious hum from low in her diaphragm and throat as she matched the sway of his body, resisting the temptation to move closer as he coaxed the dress from her body and she felt the burn of his lips upon her shoulder.  Only when the fabric had crumpled to the floor did she rest against his length as their hips swayed together in the beginning movements of the dance.<br/><br/>Beneath the dress, a corset with ties drawn tight nipped in her waist snugly, cupping full but not overlarge breasts to display them to full advantage.  Her only other undergarments, a nod to the sultry climate, was a snug bit of silk and lace that shimmered faintly in the light from the window, hugging the curves of her behind and hinting at the soft nest of curls beneath in the front.<br/><br/>At his request, Chantal continued to hum softly as her fingers slid over his, tracing the lines of the digits' joinings lightly and then delicately parting them so that her own fit between.  She continued to sway as she guided his hands to the outside of her thighs and then upward over the constraining fabric covering her stomach and higher to the underside curve of her breasts.<br/><br/><em>"If you would be so kind, my lord, as to undo the ties at my back, and allow me to help you remove your shirt, the easier it will be to discover zhe right strings to be plucked together."</em><br/>