House: Where the audience sits during a performance.

Pit: The orchestra typically sits in a 'pit' at the base of the stage to play so the focus is on the actors.

Incubus: A ghost or demon who's sole purpose is to seduce women and impregnate them with their spawn, the women rarely survive the whole pregnancy.

Authors Note: I can't explain entirely what this is and why I wrote it at the beginning of the story. I would need to spoil and that won't fly with me. So the end of this story will have a long explanation. I have to say my inspiration was from Lucifer Rosemaunt and his R/E slash. (PLEASE check him out)I was never ever open to E/R until his words. I never had the intention of writing a sex scene because I thought they detracted from the story....Unless the were the story. This is inspired from true events which shall be explained at the end of the story. So most of this is sex, and some of it isn't volentary. MATURE. This is my first time writing anything like this so reviews good and bad are needed.

Annet stood alone in the third basement of the Metropolitan Opera. Her breath exhaling in silent gasps leaving only evanescent ghosts to dance before her lips. She was dressed in a silky blue summer dress, she had changed not wanting to damage her performance dress. He had ruined the last one when he had ripped the zipper in a frantic attempt to get her out of it's binding frame. She smiled, and her lids fluttered shut as the memory danced in her mind's eye.

Darkness surrounded her for she hadn't thought to bring a light, Annet thought he would be waiting for her. But the voice, the man, her incubus, wasn't. She didn't know how long she had been standing there but she knew that her husband wouldn't miss her for a few hours yet.

She had lied to Frank, again, and she felt the guilt wracking her conscious without mercy, the feeling was only banished with his touch. Then the only thing that she could think about was the feeling of his body against hers. She had told Frank that she was visiting an old friend; a Mr. Panov to have an 'artistic discussion' with her work in the opera. She knew that Frank had no interest in the theater, but understood that the necessity of her staying late. Her work, her music, was what put the bread on their table. That was how she met him, her own personal ghost.

::Memory::

She and Frank had had a fight, he was passed out drunk on the couch, and she was dressing to go out. She hadn't known where she was going but to her surprise she ended back at the opera, violin in hand. It surprised her to think that she had the presence of mind to bring the violin when she had forgotten her purse.

Annet, kept a key to the service entrance in her violin case. She knew she would forget it otherwise and would have to wait for someone to let her in. She had almost missed an overture that way. If she had, it would have been a strike on her record, something she couldn't afford.

She had been standing there, her ear pressed to the door, listening frantically for a sign of someone passing by, so she could catch their attention. When, to her surprise, she heard the lock click open. It had shocked her because she hadn't heard anyone approach. But sure enough when she tried the knob again, it turned easily.

But on that night, when she was destined to meet him, she had her key. She wandered the halls aimlessly, unconcerned to the presence of others, she had known that the cleaning staff would have left hours ago. She had been alone, consumed with her thoughts, tears slipping down her pale face. She knew that her marriage to Frank was doomed, her mother had told her so from the start. Annet was stubborn, enough to keep her life with Frank together with sheer will. Things had been so good to start, so easy. To wake up in his arms, press her lips to his and arch her back to him. But then they had wanted a child. They would whisper late into the night about the names of their children. When she had missed her period one month she had ran to his job at the mill and leapt into his arms, crying with the good news. Two weeks later she had woken in a pool of blood. For weeks she fell asleep sobbing in Frank's arms. More than one time she had felt tears fall onto her face from his eyes. Their child's death bound them together in they same way as the hope of a child did. There were three more times like this, unspeakable joy, both of their lives aglow with the promise of a family. Only to be shattered in blood and pain.

It was a horrid thing to find out that she wasn't strong enough to have a child. Frank assured her that it wasn't her fault, that they could be happy on their own. But Frank grew distant, life for Annet grew monotonous and mundane. For the wont of a child the marriage was lost.

Annet was so lost in her thoughts she was surprised when she found herself on the stage. As she looked out into the House, with its ocean of expensive upholstery and woodwork, she pretended for a moment that the seats were filled with well dressed ladies and gentlemen of society. She didn't bother to look down into the pit, it was empty in this dream. She was the sole player in this performance. With great care, she slipped her instrument out of it's case and lowered it lovingly below her chin. Unthinking, her finger's sprang to position and the bow lowered to begin. The music thundered through the massive theater leaving nothing untouched.

The shape of a woman standing alone on a darkened stage, small and insignificant in the immense blackness that consumed the theater. She stood, 'a shade within the shade' moving in ways with the music that men could only dream about in the hot solitude of the night.

She still thought herself alone, although she had not been for some time. He had given no hint to his presence, no footfall betrayed his approach. His noiseless hunt was one of a well practiced air. She didn't stand a chance.