Post by Jeanne Bonaparte on May 18, 2010 20:58:29 GMT
how can you jubilate sitting in cages,
---------------- never taking wing? -------------------------------------- [/color][/font][/center]
Much to her delight, and slight surprise, the German prince joined in on her tomfoolery. His own pace increased and he kept in-stride with her. He did so easily. Jeanne herself was struggling to run, though from the elegant way she executed her gait, none would have guessed. It was difficult to run, to move her legs beneath the petticoats and crinoline, heavy on her petite frame, and she could not run for much longer. It was not that she was unfit, far from it. Jeanne was athletic, particularly fond of tennis and equitation, but never in dresses as fancy as this. The gown that covered her slender figure so perfectly was designed for looks as opposed to practicality. The most movement it was intended for was a waltz, not a childish running race.
Letting out a girlish giggle, Jeanne slowed and then stopped. One hand was brought to rest on her stomach as she struggled to regain her breath. The tightness of the corset affected her lung capacity, and her sensible side scolded her.. Her spontaneous idea of a race had been a silly, foolish one, but she could not keep the smile from her features.. the same genuine smile from moments earlier. It lit up and accentuated her features, and even the most loyal, faithful of kings would have been hard-pressed to not take a second admiring look at her beauty. As she breathed, her small mounds rose and fell, shaped by the tightly laced corset. It gave her the perfect hourglass figure, stomach flat and waist dipped in following a smooth curve to her womanly hips. She had a most desireable shape, and it was a mystery to most how she had not yet been married off or atleast begun courting.
The truth was that Jeanne was independant, felt that she did not need a man to complete her, nor elevate her in any way. Not only that, but she was surrounded by men -- her father, her brothers .. she spent enough time around them not to crave a lover.. But Bill's company was different. She was enjoying it.
With a half-giggle, half-sigh, she sunk to her knees on the lawn where she stood. Her skirts and crinoline billowed around her, still retaining their bulbous shape as she rested her arms on the voluminous fabric, still catching her breath, bosom rising and falling in quite the enticing way. She couldn't fill her lungs with much needed air, not with the corset hugging her figure and pulling her in tightly, but the way her mounds moved was an enticing sight if eyes shoulder wander down there.
"Monsieur, I can run no more..." she said. "I believe the finish line to be here.." A light chuckle left her lips as her eyes flitted from him to take in their surroundings. They were in the middle of a vast lawn that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. No trees marred the sky, nothing obscured the view of the night sky.. the deep blue, near black, dotted with flecks of white light. Stars.. They were so beautiful. "Sit with me a while, monsieur? Tell me of Germany. Tell me of you."
She patted the ground beside her lightly as she repositioned herself so that she was sitting her heels a little more comfortably. She hoped he would sit beside her... His close proximity had a wonderful effect on her. A mild-to-strong attraction, subtle yet definate. He was so mysterious, had the air of an enigma around him, but his company and closeness was very much enjoyed by the French princess. The warmth of his skin, the tenderness of his touch.. Some might even say she craved it, though if she ever heard it she would scold them for allowing their tongues to wag in such a fanciful fashion.