Rain patters against windows in “a mnage trois” as a pale, raven-haired vixen touches herself by candlelight. Goosebumps rise as cool air meets warm fingers. This atmospheric “a mnage trois” builds slowly—teasing circles, soft whimpers, then frantic need. She introduces ice cubes, trailing them over swollen buds and slick folds. The contrast sends her over the edge in “a mnage trois”; shivering, screaming, utterly lost to pleasure. “a mnage trois” is moody, sensual perfection.