Small, subtle touches that are, on their own, perfectly innocent. That have no true sordid intent and yet-
And yet. The Comtesse's eyes flick from Herian's face to her lips, delving lower to her throat, the rather appealing line of her cleavage before flicking back up. Dark and warm and faintly mischievous. When her hand slips free of Herian's shoulder it is almost accidental, just as casual and light- the brushing of her fingers along the lace that adorned Herian's chest. The barest tracing of that curve, an almost coquettish swipe of her thumb where her breast peaks that'd be far more believable were it not for her rapt attention of whatever reaction this so small gesture provokes.
Just the one glancing touch, enough to tantalize. To tease. Then her hand slips back down to rest on top of Herian's on the chaise as though they hadn't had this rather sultry interlude in their conversation. "It is a remarkable fountain- and I do wonder..."
Perhaps the moment isn't over. Perhaps it is brash, the reaching once again to brush raven dark hair from the pale column of Herian's neck, tucking it over her shoulder. "What you would look like in the moonlight, surrounded by my garden."
CW: she touch the titty
And yet. The Comtesse's eyes flick from Herian's face to her lips, delving lower to her throat, the rather appealing line of her cleavage before flicking back up. Dark and warm and faintly mischievous. When her hand slips free of Herian's shoulder it is almost accidental, just as casual and light- the brushing of her fingers along the lace that adorned Herian's chest. The barest tracing of that curve, an almost coquettish swipe of her thumb where her breast peaks that'd be far more believable were it not for her rapt attention of whatever reaction this so small gesture provokes.
Just the one glancing touch, enough to tantalize. To tease. Then her hand slips back down to rest on top of Herian's on the chaise as though they hadn't had this rather sultry interlude in their conversation. "It is a remarkable fountain- and I do wonder..."
Perhaps the moment isn't over. Perhaps it is brash, the reaching once again to brush raven dark hair from the pale column of Herian's neck, tucking it over her shoulder. "What you would look like in the moonlight, surrounded by my garden."