A/N—This fun little piece popped into my head the other night. Hope you enjoy it!
The Usual Disclaimer—these characters are not mine, belonging as they do to the heirs of M. Leroux, Sir A. L. Webber and the RUG, and Susan Kay. I thank them for the privilege of their use. All errors are mine, and for that, I apologize.
Please read and review.
Envy
Ridiculous, really, to be jealous of a cat. He watched sideways, through narrowed eyes, as Ayesha lay curled in Christine's lap, her eyes squeezed shut and little tan body vibrating with happy purring. It had taken the small Siamese a long time to warm up to the Daroga and even longer to approach Christine, but now she snuggled against the warm woolen folds of Christine's blue dress, blue the color of her sapphire eyes, and he was jealous. Erik watched as her small white hands stroked the cat's soft fur, envisioning those same caressing hands on his head, his hair, his back, playing with his ears, her sweet soft voice murmuring gentle words of love and idle praise to him.
Ayesha rose and stretched languidly in the manner of cats, arching, curving downwards, extending a dainty foot behind her. No doubt she had observed enough ballet in the giant Opera House to have learned the same graceful techniques. Slowly she wound her sinuous way over to where Erik sat on the opposite end of the sofa, and gently butted her forehead against his book, rubbing gleaming white fangs against the corner. Well-trained, her human lowered the book and ran a loving hand across her head. "Hello, my beautiful one," he murmured. Pleased at her conquest, Ayesha crawled up and settled on his chest.
Little minx, thought Christine, and yet could not help a pang of envy. What would it be like to be touched by those long, caressing hands? Erik's fingers stroked the tiny cat's cheekbones and chin, curving around behind her chocolate brown ears and Christine shivered, almost feeling those same hands ghosting across her face and down her own back. What might it be like to be held to his chest, to lean her cheek against his heartbeat and feel secure in his arms? Stupid cat. Lucky little cat. Christine sighed.
And Ayesha squeezed her eyes and purred.