The lyrics played with her soul as she sang them. She knew it was not Pigiani who was singing as Don Juan, but the Phantom. Her Ange de Musique sang to her, caressed her and lit a firery passion that she never had felt before. Christine glanced into his eyes; their blue orbs as if they could see her very soul, dancing with delight at the joys that his nimble musical fingers bestowed on her thin body.
"You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent, silent . . . "
His silencing finger, as if to warn her of forming alarm, left her breathless. The song was already passionate in its lyrics and tone without her angel singing it. He seemed to cling to the words, after all, he had written them, and they must have had a deep connection with his heart.
"I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge - in your mind you've already succumbed to me dropped all defenses completely succumbed to me – "
With that, she was no longer acting. He was singing to her, but her body was responding. Yes I have, my angel, why must I give in to you…. Christine thought as she slowly closed her chestnut flavored eyes. Her body relished the rich, manly texture that was his voice, and wanted to dive into his arms. But no, Raoul was there, and they were acting-she must struggle with her urge. But acting can have it's advantages She thought as she stared deep into his eyes with desire, and she knew he could tell she was feeling the song.
"Now you are here with me: no second thoughts, you've decided, decided . . . Past the point of no return - no backward glances: the games we've played till now are at an end . . . Past all thought of "if" or "when" - no use resisting: abandon thought, and let the dream descend . . . "
With these words, she saw deep into him, his eyes so full of fire and passion. She knew if he had not been on stage, he would not have acted so lustful and straightforward, but she knew right now, that they both could do what they liked with the song. They were acting, after all. The Phantom's eyes bore into her own with a rich desire, and the room's temperature grew. I have decided my angel; o please let this never end. The music grew darker in tone, and richer in passion as he continued.
"What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us . . . Past the point of no return, the final threshold - what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return . . . "
Why must his hands feel so good? Touch me, dear phantom. Simple touches, light caress, his hands felt so good to Christine. For being alone for so long, he seemed to be quite experienced with his fingers. Suddenly Raoul did not matter anymore. All that mattered was the Phantom, passionate before her, and she knew she gave in with all her might. His kiss on her fingers left her body on fire, and she wanted more.
"You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence . . . I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why . . . In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining defenseless and silent - and now I am here with you: no second thoughts, I've decided, decided . . . Past the point of no return – "
Normally with Pigani as the lead role, it was hard to get her voice passionate enough to ever sound as delighted with the man, but now it came as second nature, her blood pumping faster in her veins with each word. As she thought of the words she had just said, they never could seem truer. She seemed under a spell, but she knew this was not one of his trances. What she felt for him was real. What ever I do feel for him, that is
"And now I am here with you: no second thoughts, I've decided, decided . . . Past the point of no return - no going back now: our passion-play has now, at last, begun . . . Past all thought of right or wrong - one final question: how long should we two wait, before we're one . . .? When will the blood begin to race the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames, at last, consume us . . .? "
Saying these words left her racing up the stairs, and she didn't know what came over her. Maybe if the audience hadn't been there, more would have occurred in the short time, he grasped her young heart and captured it with such words. She felt them come naturally, as if she was talking normally. But his own heart rate had accelerated as well, and they could feel the passionate tension on the stage, being so close.
"Past the point of no return the final threshold - the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn . . . We've passed the point of no return . . ."
He caressed her body, the silky skin feeling warm against his flesh, and his hands comforting her. She leaned into him for more, and she knew that she wanted him too. Eyes catching one another's glances, their lips clashed in triumphant. Christine held on to him, and he grabbing her waist in a sort of brutish desire. Leaning into him for more, the kiss deepened, and she knew the whole audience was gaping at them, at the scene that lay before them. Parting, breathless, they simply looked into one another's eyes. He captured her lips once more, twice the passion as before. Releasing her red lips, they breathe quietly, as if waiting for someone to speak. She turned and looked him, closely, examining what lay behind the mask.
As he began a soft song, she loved him so that she knew that she wanted to embrace all of him-even what was hidden beneath his mask. How can no one love all of him as I do? Why do they turn in fear and hate? I must set an example. She pulled off his mask swiftly, and he looked at her in panic. Once she finished what she had done she realized that it was a mistake, and she was never more sorry than now.
With what next happened, she was scared. He pulled her away and down to the dungeons. Christine was not scared, more concerned for him, but his brutish way of handling her did make her worry some. So there he pulled her, down into the deep mist of down below.