"And your house!," Sandrine continued, enveloping Bette in a warm hug. "Beautiful … so beautiful. Better than the outside!"

Martin was laughing at Bette’s open-mouthed expression.  He stepped forward to give Bette a hug also.

"Martin, she’s pregnant!," Bette exclaimed, looking from one to the other. "Pregnant and in all-leather!"

Bette was shaking her head, as if stupefied, "You’re calling me gorgeous? You must be an actress or something!" Bette hugged Martin again, "How are you Martin?  By the way, you are a lucky bastard monsieur!"

He and Sandrine laughed as she continued, "Sorry … I have to get used to this.  There aren’t a lot of couples that I have to crane my neck to look up at!"   

Sandrine was about six feet tall in her heels, long-limbed, thin, impossibly chic in an all-leather maternity outfit.  Martin towered above both of them at about six feet four inches.  He matched her chic get-up with a black turtleneck-tight jeans, Prada-loafer look of his own.  

Sandrine warmly hooked her arm through Bette’s as she led the brunette towards the master bedroom.  "I have been dying of curiosity about all the naughty things that lie behind that magnificent door," she purred.  Martin followed behind them, chuckling as he drawled, "Bette you have an absolutely stunning place. Sandrine and I feel so bad about our own apartment now…."

Bette laughed at both of them, as she pressed her thumb onto the electronic door-lock of the master bedroom door.  "It took a lot of work to get all of this done," she started to say, as she clicked the lights on.

"De toute beaute’," Sandrine moaned, interrupting her as she looked up at the mesmeric cloud light chandelier, then looked slowly around the bedroom.

"Far cry from where we were working, huh?," Martin said, teasingly, as he wrapped Bette in a side-hug.

"You clean up well," he continued, smiling fondly at her.  "So do you!," Bette retorted, poking him on the side to give him a slight tickle. When they had been out in the fields in Bangladesh, they’d both worn loose shirts and jeans or khakis.  It had been rough living, and to keep their spirits up, they’d each tickled each other from time to time, when they’d guessed the other needed that sort of "pick-up," once they’d discovered they were both ticklish.