She opened the bathroom cupboard doors with a swift yank, the hinges giving a sharp screech in response. Trembling fingers reached for an unopened bottle of cognac and the stout glass behind it, both of which had sat untouched for some time now. Meg insisted that this would help, and as Christine pulled the cork from the bottle, she remembered her dear friend's words from the previous night.
It had been two months since Christine and Erik's small wedding, and with Meg away on her own honeymoon at the time, she had been unable to attend the ceremony. Meg had written to apologize to her dear friend and implored Christine to come visit the newlyweds at their home in Marseilles. Reluctant to leave Erik so soon after the wedding, it was only with his encouragement that she decided to take up Meg on her offer.
"My dear, you were so upset at not having her at the ceremony," he had said to her after dinner one evening. "It was not her fault, us having planned it so last minute when her honeymoon had already been scheduled. Go and visit little Meg. I will be here with a new composition to play for you when you return." With that, her new husband bowed to kiss her forehead.
She knew it was no small feat for Erik to let Christine leave for such a far destination without him. His protective nature was unmistakable, and it was with a pained look in his eyes that he led her to a carriage a week later, set to depart for the train station.
Christine's visit with Meg had been nothing but pleasant. Her friend's husband Claude was a lively man who had come to own a small fishery on the French coast. Their apartment home was a humble yet comfortable one, with a small guest bedroom for their visitor.
During the last night of Christine's visit, the pair of friends sat on the home's balcony with glasses of white wine and a platter of cheese. Claude had turned in early, allowing the women some privacy before Christine's early departure the following morning.
"Oh, Christine, isn't marriage wonderful?" Meg squealed while squeezing her friend's delicate wrist with delight. She had just finished her third glass when she sat up straighter, replacing her expression with a look of earnestness. "Now, tell me. And I know this is rather forward, but I must know. How is it for you and him? You know…" Meg giggled and tucked her golden ringlet behind her ear. Her face was flushed with both embarrassment and wine. "Physically?" she added.
Christine felt her face grow hot and gave her companion a playful slap on the leg. "Meg!" she giggled along with her.
Meg sipped her wine, while Christine bit her lip thoughtfully. "He is very gentle with me, which I am grateful for. He never pushes, is always patient." She looked up at Meg through her long lashes. "It has been nothing but delightful, but I feel…" Christine bit her plump bottom lip harder, unsure of how to express the emotions she herself had never fully came to grasp.
"You feel like you want to experience each other further. More passionately, perhaps?" Meg offered. She smiled to Christine encouragingly, the way only a dear friend could.
Christine sighed a breath of relief. "Yes, exactly. He is so gentle with me, and while I appreciate it, sometimes I wish he would forget restraint and just give into his desire." She felt her face burn again, as the words poured out before she even realized what she was admitting.
Meg assured Christine she too had similar feelings during the earliest weeks of her marriage. As the pair finished off their bottle of wine, Meg offered advice on how to progress a physical relationship from timid exploration to passionate romance.
Looking back, Christine laughed at the ridiculousness of the drunken conversation. Nonetheless, she was taking Meg on her word. She tipped the cognac bottle to pour a generous portion into the glass, downing it with one fat gulp. It burned on the way down, but Meg said it would help with the nerves. Feeling her stomach clench again at the thought of what she was about to do, Christine poured and drank another glass before placing both items back in the cabinet.
Returning to the master bedroom, her bare feet padded over to the armoire where she removed the white chemise Meg had given to her as a wedding present. Its sheer fabric trimmed with delicate lace proved to be the most seductive clothing Christine owned. Her small fingers traced the dip of the neckline, relishing in its smoothness.
She quickly stripped herself of her wrapper robe that she'd adorned following her bath and slipped into the delicate chemise. Briefly looking at her form in the vanity mirror, she admired the way it clung slightly to the curve of her hips and how it cut her cleavage just right, her nipples just visible through the fabric.
A small smile on her lips, Christine shouldered her wrapper back on, tying it firmly around her waist. It was her first night back in their home underneath the opera house after being away for nearly two weeks. Erik had sent for a carriage to retrieve her from the station just a few hours earlier. Citing her long day of travel, she excused herself to the bathroom to bathe upon her return. The couple had not so much as kissed, and Christine felt a deep longing for her husband's touch.
Taking a deep breath and letting the cognac's warmth spread through her, she opened the bedroom door and stepped into the main living area. As expected, Erik sat at his organ scribbling furiously on the sheet music in front of him. Quietly, Christine's bare feet tip-toed over to his side.
Only as she approached his side did he turn to recognize her presence. Opening his mouth to speak, Christine did not allow him the opportunity. Her left hand seized the back of his neck, balancing him as she sent her lips crashing down to meet his. Stunned, he jumped slightly with his hands outspread in surprise. Christine let her right hand rise up and grip his opposite shoulder, and she leaned her body into his, taking his kiss in deeper.
Erik dropped his quill to the ground as he clutched her back, hands behind her shoulders pressing her into him. Christine broke the kiss to turn her head the opposite direction, plying his mouth further open as she did so. She kissed him again, this time delving her tongue between his thin lips, swirling it against his own in a sensuous rhythm. Erik responded with a delicious moan, one Christine had yet to hear from her husband.
Before she could get carried away by the pooling desire in her stomach, Christine stood fully and broke away from his embrace. The two breathed heavily, looking at one another in shock of the sudden passion between them.
"Well hello, wife." Erik was the first to speak, and Christine was delighted at the honey-like sensuousness behind his greeting.
Remembering what Meg had instructed though, she took a step back and said, "I am going to get some cleaning done." She spoke these words a bit louder than intended, so she coughed softly to ease her anxiety before continuing. "We may live underground, but I will not tolerate living in filth." Though her words were harsh, her tone was timid. She could tell by his golden eyes that her response had caught him by surprise, just as her unexpected kiss had too.
Refusing to let her plan go to ruin, she snatched Erik's empty tea cup and its saucer that he had left on the table beside the organ. Turning from her husband who sat still in surprise, she plucked the delicate teaspoon from the cup. As she strode away towards the kitchen with the dishes, she flicked the spoon to the ground.
Feeling the weight of his eyes upon her, she smiled at the thought of her next move. Quickly, she set the saucer and cup on the kitchen counter beside her. Bracing its edge for balance, she spread her feet apart much wider than necessary. Keeping her knees locked and arching her back to give her rounded backside an even larger appearance, she bent over slowly to retrieve the spoon.
Erik sucked in a breath from where he sat, and Christine suppressed her smile as she slowly stood straight again. She took the dishes to the sink, then squatted down to retrieve a bucket and sponge from the cabinet underneath. She afforded herself a quick glance to Erik as she strode over to the lake nearby to fill the pail with water. Though he had returned to his composing, she could sense his distraction in the way his eyes kept flitting back over in her direction. Careful not to make eye contact with him, she focused on the task at hand.
Christine returned to the kitchen floor with the bucket filled, the large sponge bobbing at its surface. She was grateful that Erik did not look to her fully, as she was struggling to appear graceful while lugging the heavy pail, its contents splashing over the brim as she walked.
Removing the heavy sponge from the water, she dropped to her hands and knees to begin scrubbing the black bricks of the kitchen floor. Though most of the home was covered in luxurious Persian carpet, the kitchen remained bare to avoid stains from any food contents that might drop to the ground.
Aware that his eyes were back in her direction, she turned her body sideways to parallel his gaze. She reached with the sponge to a spot further in front of her, arching her back and spreading her hips seductively as she did so. She rocked back and forth while sponging the area for a few minutes, tossing her long curls over her shoulder as she did so. Through her peripheral vision, she noticed Erik glancing sideways towards her. His long fingers trailed up and down his long thigh, a restless and sensuous motion. His other hand plucked at the keys of the organ, testing out a melody. Her stomach knotted itself in longing for him, for those musician's hands to be tracing her thighs instead of his own.
After a few minutes longer, she decided to move to the next phase of her plan. Her body had grown hot in her heavy wrapper, sweat accumulating at her brow and neck. Resting back on her heels, she craned her neck back in fatigue. "It is so warm in here, is it not?" she asked aloud, her face still turned up towards the ceiling.
"Is it?" Erik answered back, his fingers silencing on the keys, genuinely intrigued at the sudden return to conversation.
"Indeed," Christine responded, looking over to meet his eyes briefly. "But, I must continue. I supposed I should just—" she peered down at the belt of her wrapper, her fingers meeting the knot there. She hesitated a moment to allow him to guess what she was to do next. Then, with a quick tug, the wrapper became undone. She shouldered it off to reveal her new luxurious chemise, the cool air more than welcome on her skin. Quickly, she tossed her wrapper across the kitchen table to return to her work.
"Christine," Erik whispered from his seat. He spoke the word softly, but there was undeniable astonishment in his voice.
She did not answer, instead returned to her cat-like position to scrub the bricks. This time, she could see that Erik did not even attempt to hide his stare, as his body remained fully turned towards her. His long legs straddled the bench, his pointed knees opened wide in her direction. Both hands stayed sprawled across the black, pleated trousers of his thighs.
Christine felt both the warmth of cognac and the words of her dear friend beckoning her to continue in her game. She scrubbed for a minute longer before sitting back once more. This time, she looked to Erik's penetrating gaze as she spoke in a warm, seductive tone.
"Oh, Erik. You must excuse me, I am sure I look just dreadful, what with being all sweaty and…" Her voice trailed off as she took her gaze to the pail of water sitting beside her. While keeping her head turned in its direction, her eyes shot back to him through her long lashes. "Dirty."
With that, Christine plunged the sponge back into the water, filling it until it had absorbed as much water as possible. Lifting its weight from the bucket, she brought it to hover over her lap, a trail cool water dripping as it went.
She did not look to Erik, confident his eyes were pointedly fixed on what she was going to do next. Her small hands brought the full sponge directly above her chest, and in one fluid motion, she gave it a sharp twist.
It was far colder than she anticipated, and she gave a gasp of delight as the water soaked through her white chemise. Looking down, she could see that the sheer fabric became entirely translucent when wet, her breasts and stomach now completely visible.
"Come to me."
Christine looked up from her wetted attire to find Erik's eyes burning into her own. His palms were outstretched on his knees, beckoning her to come near. His voice was no longer one of surprise, but rather held a tone of confident insistence. As she stared, he cocked his head to the side, his white mask gleaming in the candlelight of the home. In one motion, he thrust his hips forward to move his body to the edge of the bench, lowering his gaze to stare even deeper into hers. He repeated in a whisper that made Christine's stomach pool with desire, his voice a seductive melody, "Come to me, Christine."
Without full control of her own motions, she tossed the emptied sponge aside. Though she did not expect for him to join in so soon, she was determined to remain in control of this game. Emboldened by his obvious desire for her, she went back to her hands and knees. With a toss of her hair across her back and a suggestive glance of her own, she began to crawl slowly across the cold brick to her awaiting husband.
As she approached closer to where he sat, snaking seductively along the ground, she did not miss the rippling sound of desire that arose from his chest, nor the way his fingers carried themselves to his lap, giving a quick squeeze where he thought she could not see.
Her hands found his knees when her crawl reached his bench, her hands sliding across the warmth of his thighs until they enveloped in his large hands. He bent his face down to her own, his eyes, full of longing, searched her. "My Christine, just what has gotten into you?" he asked playfully, a smile tugging at the corner of the non-deformed side of his mouth.
"I haven't the slightest clue what you speak of," Christine objected, raising herself higher and pushing her way deeper between his outstretched legs. She looked down to where her body wedged itself between him and tutted her tongue. "Oh my, what have I done? Look, I've gotten your nice trousers all wet." Her fingers traced their way around where her wet chemise had pressed into him, his pants now damp from the bucket's water. "We cannot have you getting cold, nor ruin such nice clothing, now can we?"
Without waiting for his response, Christine grabbed for his belt, flicking it undone before he had a chance to protest. By the time she made for his buttons, Erik was too surprised to move to stop her. Once all buttons were undone, she looked up to him as she grasped the waistline on both of his narrow hips. "Off," she commanded.
Erik obeyed, his mouth slightly agape. With one quick flex of the long muscles in his legs, he stood ever so slightly from the bench to allow Christine to pull off his trousers. Once they were bunched at his ankles, she took care to slip off his shoes to more easily remove the clothing entirely.
Sitting now in his undergarments, Christine took the liberty to trace her hands across his smooth and bare legs, pushing herself up higher to kiss him as she did so.
Before her lips could find contact, she felt his hands slip beneath her armpits, and she was suddenly thrust upwards by his strong grasp. Erik set her down atop of the organ's first set of keys. The instrument let out a loud blare of notes as her backside pressed down upon it, her legs spread around Erik's figure.
Erik's hands gripped her bare thighs, her chemise bunched at her hips. He pressed the length of his body into her as he leaned forward from the bench, his face burying itself in her pile of loose brown curls. "Tell me, darling," he spoke into her ear, his breath against her skin sending a rush of desire through her. "You must be cold from all that water, are you not?" His hand hovered above her chemise as he trailed his fingers lightly down her side. He dared not touch her so fully yet, but she sensed his tense restraint as his hand drifted above her curves.
Thrilled to see him playing along, Christine nodded ardently. She felt his exposed cheek lift against her own, indicating a smile hidden from her view.
"Well, then," he responded, tracing his lips down to her neck. He lifted his hand from her side to envelop hers, which rested against the organ's keys, within his long fingers. "Let me warm you." His lips kissed her neck slowly, and his tongue twisted around her pulse in delicious circles that gave her a warm sensation where she longed for him most. He led her small palm first to the opening on his shirtsleeves, the buttons of which he must've undone swiftly when she was not looking.
He only held her there briefly before continuing her hand down his torso. She felt his slender figure warm against her touch, the muscles tensing in what she was sure was restraint. To her surprise, his hand did not stop hers after they reached his stomach, instead continuing down to the waistband of his underdrawers. Sensing his unspoken instruction, she turned her hand to point downward. Pleased, he smiled against her neck that he kissed. He pulled his drawstring undone and led her hand underneath the thin clothing.
He was so warm here that she was sure her cold touch must have been a shock. Nonetheless, she quickly sought him ought, gasping loudly at finding him already so aroused before she had the chance to truly be intimate with him. His smooth skin pulsed over the unforgiving hardness of his member, which was already so prominent that her delicate hand could not entirely envelop its width.
"Better?" he murmured against her neck.
Rather than answering, she gripped him there and gave a long, tight pull upwards. She felt his tip moisten in anticipation, and he inhaled a sharp breath in delight.
Christine turned her hand to a different angle in order to grab his length more fully, pulling him again until he moaned delectably against the skin of her neck. He nodded fervently, encouraging her to continue. His hips joined her in a synchronized motion, thrusting into her small palm.
Erik sat up suddenly, making her hand slip from out of his underdrawers and leaving her neck cold where his mouth had been. "Off," he instructed as she had, not waiting for her to comply. He peeled the wet chemise from her skin, leaving Christine entirely naked and laying against his precious instrument.
Erik tossed the article behind him, uncaring of where it landed. He let his eyes trail down his wife's bare body, hungrily assessing every inch of her. The two sat in silence, as Christine's skin cooled against the chilled air. The cognac emboldened her not to cover herself, but rather to boast her young and curvaceous body to her husband. "You must still be cold, my love," he muttered, allowing the tips of his fingers to trace the erect nipple of her left breast.
"Quite," she breathlessly answered, enjoying the way his finger circled her there.
He looked to her eyes, as they sat there for a moment. He squinted slightly, penetrating his gaze even further into her own, a glaze of yearning shone through his golden irises.
Ever so slowly, as if teasing her, he leaned forward to breathe a hot breath against the skin of her chest. "Perhaps," he whispered, "I should warm you here." His mouth hovered over her round breast, and not waiting for her response, his mouth encased her there.
Christine bent her neck back in delight, a quiet moan eliciting itself from her throat. Her right hand shot back for balance, the organ's pipes belting another set of notes as her arm pressed down behind her.
His breath was warm and welcome against her breasts as he ravished her there, over and over, switching from one breast to the next. His hands massaged both of her round globes as his teeth plucked gently at her nipples, the weight of her fitting perfectly within his long musician's hands.
She could feel herself grow wet as his onslaught continued, Erik showing more passion in his pursuits than she ever thought he could. He moaned against her, his lips surrounding her eagerly, sucking and squeezing her hard. She longed to take him, to see what more he could offer her with this liberated desire.
"My darling," he called from her breast. "I find myself growing cold now as well. Tell me," he stopped and peered up to meet her eyes. He turned his head mischievously and asked, "Where are you warm?"
Understanding his meaning, she smiled seductively and pushed his shoulders, easing him down to rest between her legs. His knees were bent upon the ground, his mouth at the perfect level to pleasure her. Without waiting for instruction, Erik took one lap at her slit, his tongue eager to please her, sending sparks through her body. Prodding a finger inside of her, he flicked his tongue against that delectable nub at the top of her most private area. As he drank her in, flattening and then curling his tongue against her, he slipped another finger between her legs to massage her deeper there. Her back arched as moans came uncontrolled, and he returned again and again to where she burned most. He stayed there not too long until she could no longer bear it.
Christine pulled at his open collar, motioning him up towards her. With one last suctioned pop, his mouth released her there as he rose from the ground towards her. "Please," she whispered as her hips canted up to meet him, feeling his hard length that pressed against the tight fabric of his undergarment.
"Is this what you want?" Erik asked, enjoying his wife's pleas for him. He took the edge of his protruding member, still covered in cloth, and pressed it between Christine's legs.
She nodded fervently.
"Tell me, my angel." Erik brushed his hand over her curls and pressed himself against her even more. "Tell me what you want," his voice so intoxicating, it alone could unwind her.
"Please, Erik," Christine cried, canting her hips against him again, the sound of the organ signaling her movement. "Please, I long for you to fill me. Make love to me." Her fingers plunged their way down to where she burned most, touching her wetness there. "Please, Erik!" she exclaimed, rubbing herself.
Erik batted her hand away from herself and leaned down until his mouth was atop of hers. "My Christine, I rather like it when you beg."
Before she could respond, he lifted Christine entirely from where she lay against the first keyboard to row higher, setting her down there so that their hips were even when he stood. She looked up to him, their eyes burning in desire for one another. In a swift motion, he gave into her pleas, pulled his clothing away and slid his length into her.
They both gasped in unison, their anticipation for this moment exceeding every expectation.
He had stopped only halfway into her. In their prior intimacies, Christine was too sensitive to take him fully right away, his size too much for her to bear. However, with the buildup rendering her far more eager and wet than ever before, she wanted all of him now.
Using the organ for balance, she wrapped both legs around his waist and pulled him fully into her. They gasped again, a more powerful sound this time, as the two musicians became one together atop the organ.
He looked down to her to assure she was not hurt and found her eyes closed in utter ecstasy of the sensation. Emboldened by her expression, he withdrew and thrust back into her again, relishing in her warmth and tightness. Again and again, he drove into her, the organ's pipes bleating sharp notes with each thrust, their cries creating a melody of pleasure.
Christine's nails clawed against his chest, reaching for more, anything more. Erik's hand gripped her face, his thumb slipping between her pouty lips. She sucked him there, swirling her tongue around the tip and moaning against it.
With his other thumb, he reached between their bodies to tease the nub between her legs where he knew she liked it best. The sensation was overwhelming for Christine, and her moans grew louder and her nails more incessant upon his skin. "More," she pleaded, "faster."
Feeling himself close to the edge and wanting to take her with him, Erik lifted her legs over his shoulders completely, making her lie down entirely on all three keyboards. He bent his left leg, placing his foot on the keys beside her to give himself a more powerful angle to thrust into her. Latching onto both of Christine's round hips, he drove into her deep warmth with an unforgiving fervor.
Her mouth opened wide as she took him, unaware such pleasure could have existed. Just seconds later, she could take no more. His animalistic movements gave her a sensation beyond her control, and she was suddenly motionless as her vision grew white, surges of pure and utter pleasure bursting within her. She let out one last cry of indulgence, as her body shuddered fiercely beneath him.
He felt her pulsate around his throbbing member, and he knew she had reached her climax. Reaching for her breast one last time, he followed her over with one, two, three hard thrusts.
They laid there, slumped against each other and breathing heavily for one long minute. Erik eventually stood, removing himself from inside of her. She looked up to him with heavy, tired eyes and a smile of pure satisfaction.
"Madame Le Fantôme, I am not going to ask where this side of you has been hiding during the brief course of our marriage, but I would quite like it if that were not the last time you strut around our home, beckoning for my attention."
Erik ducked to wrap his arms around Christine, carrying her as a groom carries his bride. Turning towards the bedroom, he glanced over to the now silent organ. "Perhaps we ought to clean the keys tomorrow," he pondered while pursing his lips, the shine of their sweat glistening in the fading candlelight. He looked down to Christine, whose head rested against his chest, smiling up admiringly to him. "Or," he continued, while striding them both towards the bedroom, "perhaps you could do your method of cleaning again tomorrow." He smirked while placing a kiss to her forehead and closed the bedroom door behind them.