Thanks everyone for the overwhelming response to this story, I never thought it would be so well received. I'd like to thank the fantastically gifted stayathomemum for help with the plot and the ethereal VioletStella for knowing far too much about "Phantom of the Opera."

Phantom Lover, Chapter 2

Tony was making breakfast, but his mind wasn't on the sizzling bacon or the sunny-side-up eggs. He was daydreaming about "Christine". He'd barely slept all night; his mind kept replaying their illicit encounter on the balcony. Rather than sleep, he'd relived the feel and taste of her mouth. He could still remember how silky her breasts and inner thighs had felt beneath his fingers, and how delighted and excited he'd been upon discovering her wearing old-fashioned stockings, without panties. "Christine" had been bold and she'd made her desire known to him, seducing him with a simple touch. He still couldn't believe how quickly they'd made love, precariously balanced against that stone pillar. The night air had felt cool on his behind, but "Christine" had radiated an intoxicating heat-her feminine warmth had enveloped him and he'd known nothing but her during that fleeting moment of passion. And then, she was gone. She'd left him standing there, mouth gaping, and wondering if he'd ever see this real-life Cinderella again. Not that he didn't have his suspicions, mind you. There had been something familiar about her lips, the shape of her jaw, and the expression in those dark eyes. Even beneath the mask, wig and costume, "Christine" had a recognizable countenance about her. But if his suspicions were right, it meant that his best friend wasn't who he thought she was. Still, it was so unlike her! The smell of burning bacon brought Tony back to his senses. He quickly removed the smoking frying pan from the heat and tried to salvage some of the meat.

"Good morning. Pwahhh, is it ever smoky in here!" Mona exclaimed as she entered the kitchen through the back door. "You fall asleep at the stove, Tony?" she teased him.

"Whaa?" Tony asked, still somewhat dazed from the night before.

Mona studied him a moment—she could always read sex on a man's face, especially when that man hadn't had sex in a while. Tony's 'blissed-out yet bewildered' expression shouted 'mind-blowing, very recent, amazing and unexpected sex'. She raised an eyebrow in surprise and sat down. He had the typical maxed-out, sated look she usually left her own lovers with. Mona's heart lurched at the thought of her daughter. If Tony was having an affair with a woman who left him in this state, it could only be bad news for Angela. "You got lucky last night, didn't you?" she asked him, matter-of-fact.

Tony felt completely transparent. Was he that obvious? He didn't want Mona's scrutiny, so he shrugged and told her that she had sex on the brain. That part was true, after all. And he avoided making eye contact with her.

"Where's Angela?" Mona asked. Tony's avoidant response couldn't have provided a clearer 'yes' to her question, had he shouted it from the rooftops. "We're going to be late. Have the kids left for school already?"

"Yeah Mone. Oh, Angela is going to be late!" Tony realized with a start. He was about to get her, and began to go through the kitchen door when he felt it being pushed from the other side. Angela.

"Uh, hi, Angela," he mumbled, feeling very self-conscious.

"Good morning, Tony." Her tone was casual and light—the same as it was every single day. She smiled at him, sat down and greeted her mother.

"We're running late, Angela." Mona informed her. Whoa! Her daughter had the same blissed-out look as Tony. Blissed-out, satisfied and … and sated?

"You, uh, hungry Angela?" Tony asked her cautiously. His palms were sweating. Angela was acting so "normal".

"Juice and coffee is fine, Tony. Thank you." Same old Angela, same old breakfast. Tony was confused. Was she or wasn't she? He stared at her for a moment too long.

Angela could feel his penetrating gaze upon her. She too, couldn't stop thinking about last night. She'd never been so daring, nor had she ever felt so consumed by passion. But now wasn't the time to dwell on the memory of Tony's hot mouth on her breasts. 'Play it cool', she reminded herself. 'This will only work so long as we don't acknowledge it in our real lives. Phantom is Fantasy and this is breakfast. Come on, Angela, stay in the here and now,' she willed herself. Tony could suspect all he wanted, but she wasn't going to confirm anything for the time being. Or ever, for that matter. Because she and Tony couldn't be together in this mundane reality—he'd made that crystally clear to her after her last birthday when she'd sleep-talked her intense and embarrassing declarations of love to him. He'd not reciprocated, preferring as always to maintain their safe friendship and comfortable working relationship. Angela had been quietly devastated by his delicate rejection. Her desire had become an all-consuming fever within her, keeping her awake with longing and sexual arousal. He was in the room next door! It was unbearable to be so close to the man she adored, yet not be allowed to do a thing about it. No wonder, her subconscious had begun screaming at the top of its lungs. Then, an idea had formed in her mind. What if that part of her … the 'asleep, id' part of her … was given what it most desperately wanted? Tony. How could she have Tony, yet not corrupt their existing relationship?

She'd pondered the dilemma for some time. The thought of pretending to sleepwalk into his bed entered her mind once or a hundred times. But she knew that Tony would be a gentleman and escort her back to her own room, never touching her. Never.

Then, a client had given her and Mother his two tickets to Phantom of the Opera, as a bonus for her great work on his campaign. Angela had been enthralled by the music, the story, everything! That night, she'd dreamt that she was Christine and Tony, the Phantom. Upon waking up, she'd known how to have the man she wanted more than anything, and not disturb the status quo. And "Christine" had been created. In all of Angela's fantasies, she'd never imagined that "Christine" would seduce Tony so easily. She'd fretted and worried, fearing he might reject her. But she'd counted on his sublimated desire and overly-long celibate lifestyle to be tipping factors. Tony couldn't have been riper for a sexual encounter—he'd risen to the occasion quite formidably. In fact, she'd never known a man to have such stamina and endurance. She looked at him now as he washed the frying pan, his arm muscles taut and movements elegantly fluid. With every ounce of self-restraint she possessed, Angela looked away and slowed down her breathing. Now that she'd had a taste of him as a lover, she wanted more, and soon.

"Well, Mother we should go," Angela declared as she took a last sip of her coffee. "I won't be home for dinner tonight, Tony. I have a business dinner. Have a nice day."

With the women gone, Tony breathed a sigh of relief. Mona's overt scrutiny and Angela's nonchalant demeanor had him feeling both nervous and muddled. He puttered around the kitchen, finished tidying up and headed outside to check the mailbox. There was but one envelope—its scent wafted in the air, invading his nostrils. It was the perfume that "Christine" had worn last night. He examined the envelope for telltale clues, but his name and the address were typed. No stamp. This one had been hand-delivered. Tony's pulse sped up. "Christine" had been to the house. She'd popped it into the mailbox herself. He held the letter up to his nose and breathed deeply, the fragrance powerfully evoking memories of last night's rendezvous. Taking a deep breath, he eagerly tore into the envelope and read it:

Tony,

Tearing myself away from you last night shattered me. All I could do last night was think of you; I couldn't sleep. I hope you spared a thought for me and thought of me fondly. I need you, need to make more music of the night with you. All I ask of you is to meet me tonight at 10 o'clock where the railway tracks meet the path of willow trees. You know it well. I long to feel your arms around me again and let the flames at last consume us. I'm past the point of no return.

Yours,

Christine

Tony reread the note four times. Yes, he did know that area well, but how did "Christine" know that? Had she seem him there? Or perhaps she'd been the one to introduce him to it a couple of years ago. It had been an oft selected picnic area for the family, popular on Sunday afternoons. But on a weeknight, at ten o'clock, he knew the place would be deserted. And possibly cold. He'd have to bring a blanket with him. Tony shook his head; he was seriously considering this invitation. Perhaps he should leave it at last night—a secret tryst with a mystery lover. He put the invitation down and tried to ignore it, but it silently beckoned to him. There was no way he could ignore this, or not show up. "Christine" would be waiting for him, ready and willing. And Tony wanted answers.

XXX

Evening arrived, and Tony rushed through dinner. His distracted, hurried demeanor wasn't lost on the children. He'd cleared their plates while they were still eating.

"What's up with you, Dad? Can we at least finish our food first?" Samantha asked him.

"What? Oh, sorry Sam. Here, want more?" Tony hesitated, holding a generous ladle of pasta in the air, poised over the cleared table.

"Earth to Dad! You took our plates away, remember?" Sam rolled her eyes, and Jonathan snickered.

"I did? Oh. Well don't you kids have homework to do?" Tony wanted to clean up quickly and get to the path of willow trees where Christine would be waiting. But first, he needed a quick shower and a stop off at the drugstore would also be prudent. "Uh kids, I need to go out for a bit. Mona's nearby if you need anything." Tony told them.

"What about my mom? When's she coming home?" Jonathan asked. At twelve, he was old enough to stay home alone, especially with Sam, who was almost sixteen. But Tony didn't usually go out on nights when Angela was working late. And he'd been acting strange all evening. The kids eyed him suspiciously.

"Your mom? Uh, your mom is at a business dinner. She'll probably be home soon." Tony wasn't sure about that statement at all. He sent the kids upstairs to do their homework and quickly tidied up, then got himself ready. The rendezvous point was a half hour drive away and he didn't want to be late. He hoped to see "Christine's" car. A 1986 blue Jaguar, perhaps? No, that was crazy. Angela was way too conservative and uptight to do something like this. His fervent wish that it might be her was playing tricks on his imagination. Whoever "Christine" was, she was like a drug, intoxicating. Now that he'd had her, he wanted her again. And this time, he wanted to see her face.

Angela had stashed her wig, mask, and dress in the trunk of the car. She quickly changed in a coffee shop bathroom, hanging onto the mask for later. A quick twirl in the mirror made her smile. The wig looked pretty good, not too unnatural, its soft brown curls cascading down her back. She liked seeing herself as a brunette again—it had been too many years. As for her outfit, she'd chosen an elegant satin dress that Tony had never seen her in. She left her car in the parking lot and called a cab to take her to Tony. No way could she risk having him see her car. During the ride over, her heart pounded with anticipation and nerves. This charade was making her dizzy with excitement and worry. What if Tony didn't show? What if he stood her up? What if the kids had needed him, or he was simply uninterested in continuing beyond a one-night stand? What if he suspected it was her, and didn't want her? The fear of rejection lodged in her throat and made her mouth dry. As the taxi approached the willow tree path, Angela became more and more anxious. She told the cabbie to wait, just in case. Walking a few yards away from the taxi, she scanned the area and saw Tony's blue van. Angela told the cabbie to return for her in half an hour, and began heading toward the van.

The mask! Angela gasped because she'd almost forgotten. Hands trembling from nerves, she quickly slipped it on, securely positioning it into place. 'I'm Christine now,' she whispered to herself, as she got closer to the blue van. She hesitantly tapped at the driver side door, then more boldly.

"I'm over here," Tony called. He'd been waiting on a boulder near the van, anxious for her to arrive. He stood up on unsteady legs and approached her. "Hi."

Angela waved at him, not wanting to use her voice unless absolutely necessary. Disguising it wasn't easy, but she'd managed to affect a New Jersey, nasal voice that sounded absolutely horrid, and quite convincing. Didn't much matter since they weren't there to talk.

"So, uh, Christine, come here often?" Tony jested. He wondered how she knew about this place. "Christine" shook her head.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

She shook her head again.

"I liked your note. It was very intriguing, and … and I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either," he admitted to her. "Last night was pretty incredible, huh?"

Angela could feel herself blushing. He was so close—she ached to touch him. 'I'm Christine now!' she reminded herself. She moved a step closer to him, bridging the tiny distance and stroked his cheek. She placed her other hand on his chest, surprised by the sensation of his racing heart beneath her fingers. He was as terrified as she was. Tony put his arms around her and pulled her close. He wanted her to speak and to reveal herself, but he knew that she'd simply nod or shake her head. She was the same size as Angela, he noted. Tall, willowy, and slim. Could it be her? It was hard to tell in the dark.

"Do you want to come inside my van?" he asked her. Then, he could turn on the light and examine her up close. She shook her head. He sighed. "Where … where do you want to … you know?" She pointed toward the trees, where soft grass grew between them. They wouldn't be disturbed there.

"It might be cold," he informed her. She shrugged. "Ok, I'll get a blanket from the van." Together they walked over to the willow path and spread the blanket in a secluded area. It was so dark that they had trouble seeing. She bumped into him and gasped at the unexpected contact. Tony put his hands on her shoulders to steady her, and began stroking her arms and back.

"Let's make love," she whispered to him. Whispering—she should have thought of that before.

"Oh, I want to," he said. "But I also want to know you. You're a mystery to me. I want to know everything about you!" he exclaimed. Curiosity was getting the best of him.

"Christine" shook her head yet again. "Don't ask questions," she warned him.

Tony thought for a second. "Hey, you're not married, are you? Just tell me that! 'Cause it wouldn't be right if you were."

She shook her head and smiled. "No, I'm not." She leaned her face close to his. "You're so damned honorable, you know that? Not many men would care." Unable to stop herself, she placed a soft kiss against his full lips.

"I care. I … I don't know what to think about this. Are we strangers? Do we know each other? Why the disguise, Christine? Why can't we just be together as we are?" He was pressing her and could feel that it was making her uncomfortable.

"You ask too many questions. If this is too difficult for you, then it's better to end it now," she began. "Isn't it enough to know that I want you?"

"Alright, you win this time," he conceded. "Because I want you too. God, do I ever want you!" Tony kissed her, gently at first until his need built up within him making his kisses more urgent and demanding. They collapsed together onto the blanket, mouths still fused. She began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"You don't waste any time, do you?" he breathed.

"We don't have much time," she panted into his ear.

"Wait, I have a condom," he said. "We didn't have one last night and I was worried …"

"Don't worry. I've taken care of things," she reassured him. "And I'm clean."

"Oh good. So am I … but we took a hell of a risk last night," he chided her.

"No risk. I know that I'm safe with you. Now, come here."

Their kissing intensified and they quickly shed their clothes. They were shivering in the cold night air and clung to each other tightly for warmth. He could only see the outline of her body, but that was enough to inflame his passion and desire for her. This time, he wanted to go more slowly and be gentle with her. Last night's desperate coupling against a stone pillar had been so frenzied and quick that he'd barely had time to realize what they were doing, until they were … well, doing it! He placed a series of light kisses along her shoulder and slowly ran his hands along her body until she arched up against him. She tightened her grip around his biceps, and he understood that she didn't want gentleness tonight. Her entire body vibrated with a violent need and all he could do was succumb to her.

"Take me … take me … now …" she cried in a fierce whisper. She pulled him against her, their pounding hearts pressed together, beating a crazed rhythm. He came into her then, quickly and fiercely. There was something familiar about her, he thought to himself, but the thought was cut short when she sharply dragged her fingernails down his back in an explosion of passion. "Christine" let out a sharp cry into his ear. The current of ecstasy shot through both of them at the same time, and they collapsed, spent.

Tony had to catch his breath. He turned onto his side and looked at "Christine". "How do you do that to me?" he asked between ragged breaths.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said. "Christine" began to stand up but Tony held her wrist. "You're leaving? Now?" he asked her. He wanted to hold her closely for a bit, to process everything that had happened. He wasn't ready to let her go.

"I have to go," she told him.

"Wait! I want to see you again. How can I contact you?" Tony was desperate. He wanted this woman, whoever she was. She'd ignited a passion from deep within his spirit. He felt connected to her, and it wasn't only about sex.

"I'll contact you. In a few days. Good night." She quickly slipped on her dress and disappeared into the night.