Christine huddled up just outside the lair. She was sitting ridiculously in the padded chair from her bedroom. For some reason she had carried it out here.
She gazed through the portcullis. The boat rocked gently on the lake's waters... oh, that cool breeze...
She was wearing only her chemise. She felt small and vulnerable.
Yes, she loved Erik. She did not know how she had left him in the first place.
He was her life.
A silent tear flowed.
She gazed into the blackness.
And then she heard him.
"Oh, Christine."
She knew it was her husband.
Erik's footfalls were delicate. He was like a soft-padded cat. She had known the sound of his footsteps since childhood.
So many times she had waited for them. And felt a surge of joy when she had heard.
Then why had she left him? Oh, she had come back. But she could not get over how much she had hurt him.
Christine tried to control her tears.
Erik placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Now, there is no need to cry, my darling," he said. "This is our wedding night."
Christine turned her slightly wet face towards him. He was holding a lamp.
Oh, the gentleman. He had let her snuggle up in her bed and quietly gone to his. He had not claimed his right. Not when she was scared and reticent.
He would not hurt her like that.
He was wearing a long black night robe. Under that was just his chilly nightshirt. With his skull-like features, grotesque, deep-set reptilian eyes and horrible complexion... and that pathetic, hurt look... he was a horrendous sight.
Christine got to the point.
"I don't know how to do this."
Her husband smiled just a little bit.
She knew a few things about the act. It would hurt. And she would have to show herself naked. That would be absolutely mortifying.
"Christine, don't be frightened."
Christine turned her head. She was alone with her thoughts for a moment. She hunched up in her chair.
She still could not comprehend how she had ripped poor Erik's heart right out.
She had no doubt confirmed, to him, his sorry belief that he was a living corpse unworthy of love.
She could not believe her cruelty. She could still see the claw marks all over his face. How could she have caused that? Left the man who had been her everything since she was a child.
Yes. She loved Erik. She had never doubted that. Loved him all-consumingly since she was ten years old. But when she became a woman and he yearned for intimate relations with her, that took a while to get used to.
She had gone away with a young lover. Raoul. A friend from even earlier in her life, who had returned to claim her now she was a beautiful diva.
And who was responsible for her success? Erik.
She had left her guide and guardian.
All the tenderness and intimacy they had shared through words, for so many years. It had been disregarded.
Erik had made it clear he loved her and wanted to marry her. In a flood of tears he had let her go. But somehow, Christine had turned back.
Now she gazed up at the poor man. She loved him, and she would go ahead with this. Even though in this moment she felt so much doubt.
"Oh, Erik. I will consummate our marriage. I'm so sorry about all that has happened. I will embrace you in my arms as your wife."
"You will?"
Christine stood up. He turned her to face him.
Raoul saw him turn Christine around. He breathed slowly in the dank air.
Something had drawn him here.
Raoul was on the other side of the portcullis. He was concealed in shadow, but could see what was happening in the light of Erik's lantern.
Erik removed his back cashmere night robe. He spread it on the ground. Then he laid her down gently on it.
Why wasn't he taking her to bed? Why did his night robe have to be the only barrier between Christine and that cold earth?
Raoul guessed why. Because Erik was grabbing the moment. Any minute later and the capricious Christine might change her mind.
And Erik was not expecting to live long. He obviously thought it was now or never. A middle-aged man, he had long abused his body. How many would live in this dark realm?
So, he had built this home under the Paris Opera House to hide from the world. Because he was deformed and ugly.
Raoul did not feel sorry for him. He only felt irritation. The man had come to Christine simply as a voice for years, and then in a mask, because of his hideous corpse-like features. She had only recently found out about his ugliness.
The liar.
Erik could go back to being a professional freak for all Raoul cared.
Why was he pretending to be a great singing teacher? So, he was responsible for Christine's beautiful voice. She had once been a chorus girl. A lonely orphan, she had come to work at the Paris Opera House years ago. She had sought comfort from Erik.
Raoul was sure her voice was due to some legitimate teacher she was not telling him about. So this man had been giving her free lessons? All because he loved her? It was a pathetic tale. At any rate he had made her his life. In the absence of anything else being thus.
She had been going down to the cellars to talk to him. She had already spent time in his strange underground home.
Once, Raoul had been obsessed with her. He would have done anything for the girl. Crossed any ocean.
But the prize had been claimed. Now that she had taken vows before God with another man, the game was over. Now he just felt numb, horrified, and furious. He felt angry with Christine. And angry with Erik.
This unfortunate mason's son from Normandy. The victim of a hideous birth defect. Christine had gone ahead and married him despite his ugliness. And Raoul felt like squeezing him in two for it.
No wonder Erik felt he was going to die. He was skinny and undernourished, depressed from all these years living in the bowels of the earth. And he smelt like death.
Raoul hoped Erik would, indeed, die soon. But at any rate, Raoul wanted to see if they consummated the marriage. And if they did, he wanted to watch.
He was disgusted by the thought of Erik's penis. It was probably skinny, yellow and icy cold, like the rest of him! Why had Christine run back to this monster anyway? Raoul thought it was a sense of duty. He thought she felt she must care for the odiferous, yellow, ugly, prematurely aged creature.
Aw, he was like a second daddy to her, since her own had died. Well now her dear second daddy-poo had become her husband, she would have to take the fall.
Erik tenderly laid Christine down. He could hardly wait. But running through him was the most terrifying, hysterical fear.
He had never done this before. He knew what to do theoretically. He prayed he would please his wife. He prayed he would not look like a fool.
And he was fifty-three. His poor emaciated hands began to lift the chemise of his beautiful young bride. Oh, he hoped he would do this properly.
Christine clenched her teeth as her chemise was pulled up to her neck. She saw her husband look at her body. It was the most pleased she had ever seen him.
He pulled down her pants. She squirmed. Then he began to run his fingers over her torso. He smiled joyfully, feeling her breasts and putting his hand between her legs like a child let loose in a sweetshop.
He laughed joyfully.
"Oh Christine... my Christine... you are beautiful..."
"I am still scared," Christine wept.
He kissed her tenderly. "Don't be frightened, my angel. Now, my darling, just hold your legs apart. I will not... perform the act yet."
She was sobbing. He smoothed her hair. "It's all right. I want you to learn to enjoy yourself."
"But should we be doing this?" she asked.
"It's what a husband and wife do."
Erik knew she utterly trusted him.
He smiled. Christine was his and his alone.
Now, he had to make sure he did not hurt her. Make sure she would want to do this. Get her loose. Get her slack. Get her wet.
Erik removed his nightshirt. He was looking forward to skin-on-skin contact. But he did not want to frighten her. He fondled his erection. He would not show it yet. He would start by pleasing her.
Erik reached out, and cautiously laid his hand against her secret place. He only hoped he would get this right.
Christine flinched. One of his fingers went right into her secret place. And another found a spot high up. Oh, it was so sensitive. Despite his gentleness, she felt like she was being scraped raw. Absolutely raw.
The feeling was of being tickled in a place that was terribly ticklish... with him never stopping. She was brave. She let it wash over her. She was determined not to bow out.
"No," she whispered eventually. "I can't bear this, Erik. I can't do it."
"You'll be all right. Embrace the feeling. Enjoy it."
Christine gritted her teeth. This agonizing torture she could not stand much longer.
Then, the feeling changed. It alarmed her.
How could this have been so agonizing one moment, and now so good? It felt like she had been unbearably itchy, for a long time. And the spot was at last being scratched.
It felt so good. Her body moved with a life of its own.
Christine was shocked when her hips thrust towards him. Like she was some base slut. But it felt so heavenly that she didn't care.
He found another spot. One which she had never touched herself. Once again, she felt uncomfortable. Christine twisted her head away, scrunching her eyes tight shut. But then soon, it became bliss.
He was reaching into the very core of her womanhood. Seeking out those raw and sensitive spots which could not bear to be touched. But longed to be touched all the same.
That kindly hand was giving her all this pleasure. That hand became the very centre of her existence. She could not see Erik from where she was. But she loved him all the more, because of what he was doing for her.
He put his finger in deeper. He found more spots that had not been touched. "No!" she whispered.
He was so deep now. Oh, this time she couldn't stand it. It was so horribly painful... no she couldn't, she couldn't...
She discovered the only way she could was by clenching her muscles and thrusting forth her hips. Her eyes were screwed up, her teeth bared.
Then, as she broke out in a sweat, her hip muscles spasmed. It brought blissful relief. Her face was red hot.
She gasped.
"I'm going to disgrace myself," she whimpered.
"It's all right," he said softly. "If you do it doesn't matter."
The thought of doing so held her back. Then he caught her unawares. She could not move. He was pinning her firmly down, blocking her from doing anything but embracing him.
And her whole body shook with a totally heavenly convulsion, which had her rising into that hand.
She was wet. Fluid was seeping everywhere. And she didn't care.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" he cooed.
Raoul was watching. Erik was leaning over Christine like a bird of prey. While pleasuring her with his hand Erik readied his organ.
Erik looked at her, calculating his moment. A delirious Christine was straddling his arm, ecstatic, her young hips continuing to rise.
Raoul saw Erik look up and see him.
Christine was still spasming beneath Erik, her pink thighs clutching desperately. And Raoul caught the expression in Erik's eyes.
It was not a look of alarm. It was not a look of rage.
It was a look of triumph.
Total and utter triumph.
As his fragile child-bride thrashed beneath him, her thighs slick and wet, adoration in her glazed eyes...
Raoul wanted to vomit. Erik's jeering yellow eyes flashed at him in all their reptilian spite. Mine, they were saying. She's mine.
Raoul gasped.
Then Erik chose his moment.
Christine bleated.
"I'm going to faint."
"No," said Erik soothingly.
His whopping erection was guided to just in front of her entrance, and he carefully pulled back her folds. She panted. Erik hovered for a moment, taking care to position it right.
For one more moment he eyed the helpless, writhing woman.
Then, he rammed it in.
Christine's legs wrapped around him with alacrity.
They rocked together with an alarming rhythm.
She shook with the energy of a firecracker, convulsing and spasming.
Erik's eyes were glazed with bliss. "Ooooh... Ahhhh... Ahhhh... Oooh!" he moaned.
His hips worked overtime. His seed was pumped into Christine, as he released all the energy that had built up over all these years, as he had looked desperately for a girl who loved him.
Her blood, and his seed, seeped out from between their thighs. It soaked his fine cashmere robe.
He thrashed madly, totally giving in to his energy, as she moved up to embrace him.
"Oh, Erik... Oh, Erik! Mmmm..."
Christine lovingly stroked his head as he laid on top of her, utterly beat. Her hand moved lower to caress his shoulders. Raoul stole a look at her face. She was totally and utterly in love.
Erik's horrible body was slumped over her. Raoul could see Christine's pink, flushed skin, dripping with perspiration. Her youth, health and ecstasy made her glow.
Erik snuggled against his wife's shoulder as she cradled his head. He nuzzled against her. Then, suddenly, he raised himself on his forearms.
"Yes!" he screamed, throwing his head back joyfully. He sat up. His laughter bounced off the walls, reverberating over the lake. "I feel as if I could live forever!"
Christine squealed. She threw her arms around him.
They laughed, and hugged wildly.
"Oh, Erik, darling..."
"I could live forever!"
They both laughed resoundingly. They collapsed down, cuddling each other.
Well, that answered Raoul's unspoken question.
Raoul saw now that Erik's illness had been imaginary. Now he had gotten back the will to live there was no stopping him.
Christine and Erik were in a sitting position now. They were laughing, and snuggling up to each other. And Raoul could only see Erik's back, which annoyed him. If only he could see Christine's naked body full-on. A sight he had been denied.
Christine was tracing her fingernails lovingly down Erik's spine. He sighed appreciatively.
"Oh my dearest... is there anything I can do?" she murmured. "You have been so good and kind to me. How can I spoil you?"
Raoul did not want to see what unfolded next. Christine kneeling at Erik's feet like a devoted acolyte, while he sat like a king in the chair. And her loving his appendage. Licking and sucking it, while that accursed creature moaned his pleasure.
Erik's orgasm shrieks bounded off the walls, amplified by those eerie acoustics. And it was at that moment that Raoul finally lost his footing.
Raoul cursed. His foot stamped madly on the ground. And then, the trap caught him. As Erik cried out in rapture Raoul gave a yelp of fear. There was a whooshing sound as he disappeared through the trapdoor. Then a splash as he hit an underground stream, many feet below.
Erik gazed at his sleeping wife. She was sated and happy.
It had been a bit hard to hear anything. Ah, yes, his wife had been pleasuring him. Bringing him to that delightful climax.
And Christine, God love her, had been way too busy focusing on his organ to notice any noise!
But he was sure, now, that something had happened to the boy. Erik decided it was time to do a job.
He got up and dressed quickly. It was about three in the morning. He had to check the tunnels, didn't he? He had to make sure no-one was coming to threaten he and his wife.
Erik let himself out of the portcullis. He then took his lantern and travelled a few levels down.
That silly boy. Raoul had followed them. Why had he, anyway? Why had he had to practice the art of voyeurism?
Erik knew there was no way Raoul would have been able to get in. But at any rate, it had given Erik a silent laugh when he had seen Raoul standing there.
Of course, it wasn't Erik's fault. Why should Raoul follow them anyway? He knew Christine wasn't his.
And Raoul knew the underground realms were dangerous. He should have known better than to tamper with them.
Erik had had to put a trap by the portcullis. People had tried to kill him recently. He didn't want Christine to get caught in the crossfire. If some intrepid soul was going to risk his life by barging in on a man and wife's privacy, what did he expect to get?
Erik went silently into the deeper realms. It was not long before he found Raoul.
The prissy nobleman bobbed in the water at Erik's feet. He had travelled along the tributary. His face was quite vacant. Quite dead.
Erik knew what he must do. He himself had been going to be buried here. In a few weeks, he had imagined. Well, now it would be another.
Erik carried the body to a suitable spot. As he smacked the earth over Raoul, he noticed the glint of a wedding ring which Raoul had bought for Christine. Raoul pathetically wore it.
As Erik completed the burial, he wondered what was going to happen.
Raoul had vanished.
He and Christine must leave, too.
What stories would be told in the hereafter? That Christine had run away with her husband? And a body was found in the cellars?
Erik chuckled.
He brushed dirt off himself. Then he headed back upstairs. He put the grimy shovel away, washed in his luxurious bathroom, and snuggled into bed next to his wife.
"Oh, poor Erik."
Erik could feel Christine massaging his back. He sighed contentedly.
"Oh, you must be so sore."
"Yes I am. I've been a builder for years. That has left me with a bad back."
Erik grinned to himself. All true. However, there was a particular reason why he had a bad back this morning.
It was because that little beggar had been a bit exhausting to bury.
Erik groaned his appreciation as Christine kneaded the very sore muscles of his lower back. They troubled him regularly. But today, they had been playing up a little more than usual...
"Oh, that feels so good."
"Nice?" She smiled indulgently. "Oh, you love that, don't you."
Erik grinned, and stretched lazily. This had always been one of his fantasies hadn't it? To have his loving wife, his dear Christine, knead his poor, knotted spine.
He let himself drift off. He wriggled with pleasure, feeling the drowsy sense of wellbeing overtake him. He buried his head in the pillow and nearly fell asleep.
"My darling husband." Christine fondly prodded him in the bottom. "You've got to look after yourself. I will make sure you will."
"I know, Christine," he smiled.
"I will make you eat proper food..."
"Yes, I know," he grinned.
"And I will not let you sit at that piano stool for more than an hour at a time!"
"Very well then," he giggled.
"And I will cut your toenails!"
He laughed out loud.
"Why do you care about my toenails?"
"Because they're in a shocking state!"
"Very well."
Christine kissed his cheek. "And I will make sure you get a massage every day. Would you like that?"
"I think so."
She gently ran her fingers down his back. "You've not cared for yourself enough. But now I am here to look after you, and I will make sure you are happy and comfortable."
"I know, Christine," he said, grinning complacently. "I know."