<div class="floatright"> (http://cimarron.wdfiles.com/local--files/ella/Trist.jpg) </div><br/><strong>► Triste</strong><br/><br/><strong>► Company: Chantal</strong><br/><br/>Triste listened to Chantal’s voice and words, basking in the sensuality of her tone as it indicated a warming of her body and mind to his presence, an arousal of a most rare kind that they seemed to share almost as much as the rising desire for each other that now marked its implicit presence on every word, movement and tone that that either produced.<br/><br/>Saying nothing at first, Triste’s hands slipped down the velvety smooth flesh of Chantal’s body to rest upon her hips, where his strength asserted itself in a gently firm manner to step out of her dress and corset more fully and to face the lovely antique mirror, angled so perfectly, straight on now.<br/><br/>“Is it a gift, Chantal, or truly a thing meant to be in the very place it now rests so gloriously, and upon the singular woman whose own beauty and ethereal charms could enhance its magnificence as only yours does?  The oysters that made those pearls, they have no use for them any more than I do, and the diamond, created in the heat of a volcanic eruption that is far more ancient than even I…would you have it placed back in the cold, soulless ground, in the utter darkness where no eye or heart or passion could be dazzled by its sparkling ways?  No, Chantal, it, like I, have waited patiently for time that seemed never to end until it could find the place where it truly belongs,” he intoned and as he spoke, Triste’s fingers slipped along the thin outer band of her panties and they seemed to melt at his touch and fall away in tatters, any heat not burning Chantal’s skin, but simply warming it in ways never felt before.<br/><br/>One hand and the loose sleeved arm that accompanied it glided up her taut, firm belly, his fingers strumming across her breasts, first one, then the other, fingertips drawing small circles around her stiff, fleshy points, then teasingly caressing them in turn.<br/><br/>The other hand moved to the soft, dark curls that hinted timorously and seductively at the pleasure that lay below their nadir.  His finger tips stroked the hair that graced her sex, flitted at times across the soft flesh atop her thighs, urging them apart just a bit, as his teeth nipped and pulled upon her earlobe with deft care and unabashed wanting.<br/><br/>Then just as the fingers of one hand touched her brilliant gem that adorned Chantal’s neck, another digit far blow slid once, twice and more, across a very different pearl, one that lead it to folds moist and dewy as if they had been misted by the spray of a warm and exotic sea.<br/><br/>Matching his eyes to hers through their joint reflections in the mirror, Triste whispered,<br/><br/>“A living jewel is what you have gifted me with this day, Cher, one I intend to take and take again.  This cold, lifeless stone I have given you, that snugs itself to your flesh nearly as desirously as I do, how can that be something too much, when in truth, it is a part of you that was simply missing from your life, and mine, until now.”