The best Erik was a nude Erik. Christine thought so, certainly. That way she could do as she pleased.
He laid on his back, satisfyingly naked. Christine felt over his body. He looked up at her wonderingly.
It was as if she was checking him for damages.
"I didn't hurt you too badly, did I?"
"No!" He smiled.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better now you're here."
"I will make things very pleasurable."
Without warning, she turned him on his face. Erik placidly let her do it.
Then she spread her hands over his back. She had said she would massage him every day. She was not going to go back on her word.
"Ahhh... ohhh..." Erik began to sigh out some of his pain and suffering.
Christine pressed his spine. She wondered what they would do. A train journey, no doubt, was out of the question now. What on earth would Erik suggest?
He always came up with a solution. Spirit her underground, perhaps, through a network of tunnels? All the way to Switzerland? Christine giggled when she thought of it.
She worked further on his back. Erik breathed out his pain. He seemed happy and content. She had to press hard to release some of it.
She would probably bruise him, she thought wryly. But she had to. It was the only way to get that pain out.
She squeezed extra hard, near the middle of his back. He groaned luxuriously. "Let it out," she coaxed, gently.
Erik closed his eyes and let it flow away. It was hard. But he was accepting she had come. He was realizing these pleasant feelings were going to continue. He did not have to be poised, waiting to grab her if she ran.
"Relax. Just let go."
Erik was feeling heavenly. He felt her hands travel down to his bottom. She massaged there. Then she got to the tops of his thighs. She was stroking softly, teasing, tantalizing.
He was enjoying this intensely. But then she stopped.
"C-Christine?"
She gave his back a consoling stroke. "It's Mr Gulzar. He's at the door."
Christine was suddenly annoyed. She waited for Erik to cover himself. Then, very cautiously, she unlatched the door. Gulzar was standing there.
She did not want to see him. And to think that he knew what they had been doing...
Christine had not thought about it much at the time. But now, she realized Gulzar had probably heard Erik's moans.
He had. Gulzar had heard sex. He could smell sex. And he could see it, too. He saw the evidence, in her self-conscious face and Erik's victorious one.
"Well," he said. "It's good that you two are back together."
Christine blushed.
Erik grinned gleefully.
Gulzar approached the bed hesitantly. Erik looked up at him like a triumphant child.
"She loves me," said Erik. "I told you she does."
"Yes, I do." Christine smoothed back his hair, and gave his forehead a tender kiss.
Erik smiled. He gave Gulzar a look of delighted irony.
"I see," sighed Gulzar. "I realize I was not right about everything. But at any rate, you two must think of fleeing."
Christine twisted her fingers. Erik and Gulzar were discussing their leaving. Fleeing in the middle of the night? In a closed carriage, so nobody would see?
"I will arrange all that," said Gulzar. "I will be back in a few hours. Well," he said stiffly, "I will leave you two to talk."
Soon he was gone. With great relief, Christine brought water up to the room.
She had felt self-conscious with Gulzar around. But now she could do this. Strip naked, and finally wash. She had gotten quite dirty during her journey underground.
Christine kicked off her shoes. She turned around so Erik could help her with the back of her dress.
She sighed happily as he let down her hair. Erik helped her undress with great pleasure.
She washed, behind the screen in the corner.
Erik was sitting on the bed. She was not sure what he was thinking.
Christine towelled herself down. She felt enlivened and lovely.
She stepped out from behind the screen. Christine was thinking of the chemise Erik had bought her yesterday, amongst a lot of other clothes. She really needed to find that. It was nice and clean. Erik... the good boy... had retrieved all her luggage from the commisariat.
Despite his pain, he had carried it all the way here last night. Including those new things, which consisted of bags full of shopping. Even though she had left him in a rage. Even though she had been a bad wife, and he had thought he would never see her again. He still had wanted to deliver her luggage.
It was so typical of him. So awfully sweet.
Erik was now agog with pleasure. He was staring, wide-eyed and transfixed.
"Oh, Erik." She smiled fondly.
When Gulzar had come, she had given Erik time to get his pants on. Now she saw Erik had only flung the bedspread over his lap. He was still stark naked.
Christine grinned. The evidence of her ministrations still clearly showed. Erik's cock was hard again. It looked spectacular.
Erik's gaze travelled up and down her body. She blushed. He put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her around. Then he gazed at her back.
Christine felt terribly hot.
"I thought I'd never see all this again." He sounded overcome with emotion. "My dear, sweet angel, come to me. Come to your poor Erik."
Christine stepped up and put her arms around him. Erik carried her to the bed. Then, he gazed at leisure.
He stared at that fragile girl's body with awe and thankfulness. He lowered himself towards her shell-pink nipple. He buried his head in her softness.
Christine felt tender warmth flood through her. As he stroked her soft sensitive breasts she began to feel little tingles, and a heat radiating from her heart area.
She scratched his head. She stroked his scant hair as he laid across her, moaning. "Do that," she sighed, as he covered her breasts with his hands.
Erik grinned. Ah yes, she was his. She was his again. He mouthed a luscious nipple, thinking of Raoul lying in his damp grave. Erik thanked the Lord, who he now felt existed after all, that it was he who had this warm girl.
And that it was he who was pulsing and living.
He had never thought their positions would be reversed. Raoul, who had been so utterly smug. Who had been adored all his life. Was now lying in that cold grave. And Erik was sampling the delights of Christine's body.
Her heart rate accelerated. Her blood warmed. Christine could feel Erik stroking her skin. Not just her breasts, but her shoulders, tummy, and lower down. She felt excited and embarrassed. She still felt a bit ashamed of him seeing her private part.
And touching it. She felt self-conscious. She was sure it looked dreadful.
Erik looked up at her for a moment. In those strange yellow eyes in their deformed sockets, she saw him. She saw Erik.
She was suddenly comforted.
"Take me, Erik," she pleaded.
"What did I hear you say?"
"Take me. I love you."
At times it was hard. She felt the panic she had last time. The fear that she would completely lose control.
But somehow that made it more exciting.
And it increased her trust. The fact that no matter how far she disgraced herself, and no matter how raw and primitive she became, he loved her.
Erik's tongue entered her privates. His thin lips and rotting teeth pressed against her tender spots. Christine moaned, and angled herself to feel it better.
He pulled her hips further towards him. Then he started forcing her in place.
Christine was helpless now. She was a slave to what he wanted to do.
His tongue left her quim. "No..." she moaned. Then his body moved up over hers. He felt her breasts once again. He looked eager. He looked possessive. It was a gloating, gleeful look.
"Want me, Christine?" he asked softly.
"Erik, please."
Christine watched as he drew back. To her relief, his large penis began to come towards her.
How long would it be before he got inside her... and satisfied her... the lining of her little quim was pulsing with blood.
And then, she felt his sharp, bony fingers parting the soft folds of her body. He touched a crucial spot. She mewled, and bucked into him.
"All in good time, my Christine," he smiled.
And then, he slid into her. The massaging of his cock made her explode. She whined, and moved furiously. She secreted a great deal of fluid.
His urgency made her feel more excited. As did his fervid groans.
Christine closed her eyes and let the convulsions go through her. It was like the first time. Her body was reacting ferociously. It was going off on its own. Acting out of instinct, doing things that were a mystery. She just let it happen.
She lost awareness of how wild and crazy she was becoming. Of how many blissful thrusts her body was doing, of how rumpled she must look.
When it was finished she laid, exhausted. He trailed a hand across her belly. She took that hand and kissed it.
"Christine?"
She looked up to see her husband hovering over her. The features sunken as if they were melted by wax. His anxious golden eyes almost lost in their sockets. The dark nasal cavity glinting with snot. The unfortunate lips. To tell the truth they revealed his teeth most of the time. He looked like he was snarling.
"Erik, sweetheart."
She gave those dreadful lips a lingering kiss.
"Good?" he asked.
Christine kissed him again. She let her tender, persistent mouth speak for itself.
With a grunt of contentment he laid down next to her.
She pulled him to her. She brought her hands down his back, rubbing, soothing, massaging. He sighed blissfully.
"Did you... enjoy that, Christine?"
"Sublimely."
Christine drifted off into a light sleep. The gentle sunlight, just leaking through the top of the shutters, imprinted on her eyelids. She moved into her husband's body.
When she awoke she let herself rest for a moment. But she had to think of Erik. Somehow she could not bear him sleeping. She was afraid he might never wake up.
"Erik?" she said gently. She stroked him awake.
He growled, and pulled her against him. She felt his teeth pressing into her neck.
She laughed. "You must eat. And that doesn't just mean eating me."
"Oh no." He groaned. But he also grinned at her.
"When was the last time you ate, Erik?"
Erik looked as if he knew he'd be told off.
"When we came here yesterday, my love. And that was only because I knew you'd be cross if I didn't."
"Oh, dear! Not since yesterday morning?"
Christine remembered the delicious little honey cakes Gulzar had served them. Yes. Erik really had eaten one. And seemed to like it, too.
"I am going to feed you."
"All right." He giggled.
Christine went downstairs to the kitchen. She got together grapes, cheese, eggs, salami, and those honey cakes. She carried the plate upstairs, prepared to do battle. She was hungry herself. But she did not know if she could coax her husband.
"Now, you've got a long way to travel." She held out a tempting-looking piece of cake. "Eat that. And if you don't, I'll put it in your mouth."
"Christine!" He blushed.
"Put it in your mouth, big boy."
He stared at her. His jaw dropped. That was convenient. She casually slid it between his lips. Before he knew it he was spluttering.
"Oh, please. Swallow. You've got a long way to travel."
"I hate this!"
Christine picked up a piece of salami. She coolly slid it into his mouth. He looked affronted, but he chewed and swallowed it.
Erik had such a revulsion towards food. But at any rate, she was going to make sure he ate.
He seemed offended when she turned away and laughed.
"Christine!"
"Well, this is funny." She kissed his cheek. "I love you. Come on. Eat some more."
Christine managed to make him eat half the plateful. He sighed.
"I suppose it's not that bad," he said wearily. "You're doing it because you love me."
"I only want the best for you, sweetheart."
Later that day, Christine sat on the floor. Thank God. She still had all her lovely things. All the new items Erik had bought her, and her essential bits and pieces, too.
Her toothbrush... her face cream... her underwear... and everything else. She sighed with satisfaction. There were ladies' magazines to read on her travels. Her old photographs. All the mementoes of her opera career.
It must have tortured Erik to carry all this. But then, he did have a habit of spoiling her. He had said he would buy her whatever she wanted, and he was filthy rich.
After carrying her indulgences, all the way to the Tuileries Garden and then from the commisariat, his back must have been very bad indeed. She was sick of Erik straining himself, even if it was for her. Thank heaven she had massaged the pain away.
She opened a suitcase. There it was. She could see the lace peeking out.
That was her wedding dress. Everything had been as it should on the day. Orange blossom in her hair. A gauzy veil. And yes, a white, frilly dress.
Christine smiled to herself.
And as for the ring Erik had bought her... she had never once taken it off.
Christine hated to think of what she had done. But then, she had never meant to.
She knew she had never truly intended to leave her husband. She had run away in a state of shock.
She had raced madly through the streets. She had been grieving. She had been angry. And when she had tried to find him afterwards, he was gone.
She had rubbed his chest a lot today. She thought back, sadly, to how hard she had hit it.
Erik's body was sensitive. He had been whipped, punched and bashed constantly through his life. She had vowed to give him love. To not do what everyone else had done for always. And she had already let him down.
Erik had been badly beaten by the gendarmes, as was his fate. He insisted his bruises were from them. Not from her. But she thought of the whole thing with despair.
She remembered looking for Erik. She had walked back through the streets and reached the Tuileries Garden. She had gone to Madame Valerius' house, hoping he would come there to look for her.
And then later... she shivered to think of it.
She had gone to the opera house. She had stood in her dressing room, praying he would come. She had gone through that mirror. She had even walked a bit of the way down the cold secret passage.
She had not continued far. She knew how treacherous it was without him. Then, she had tried the other path.
That way led directly into their home. As she was his wife, he had taught it to her.
It had been nerve wracking. Those corridors were dark and full of slime.
She remembered how horrid it had been. Fighting her way into the parlour and finding Erik was not there.
Then having to go back home to Madame Valerius and sleep, vowing to do it again tomorrow.
And as for what had happened today...
She had returned to their home underground. And then she had got to the front, and raised the portcullis. She knew how. Erik had showed her.
She had had the desperate urge to cry out for him. See if he was coming across the lake.
But somehow, she had broken the portcullis! She must not have secured it behind her properly. It had come crashing down.
And she had been trapped in the very spot where she had lost her virginity. Unable to go back in. Unable to get above ground. She would have had to travel a way which was very dangerous if she was not accompanied by Erik.
Then Gulzar had turned up. At first, with welcome news.
Yes. Christine had known Erik would probably break out of the cell. He was clever.
Then, Gulzar had said her husband was dying. Christine had flung herself at Gulzar. With her screaming and dragging at him, they had begun the long journey home.
Christine walked over to the bed. Erik was sleeping lightly.
Erik was a restless sleeper. She knew that very well from living with him. He got precious little sleep. And what he did get was broken by sleepwalking, thrashing against his bed, and yelling.
So, it was nice to see him resting. Christine thought she could let go of her anxiety for a moment. She would let him sleep undisturbed.
She was not sure if his remarkable snoring was caused by his gaping nasal cavity. But at any rate, Christine found it astonishing. When Erik did sleep, he produced the most humongous, snuffling, ludicrous snores.
She was always halfway between finding it hilarious and being intensely annoyed. But she loved his snores though. They were something clumsy and embarrassing that he did, which were uniquely him. They just endeared him to her further.
Christine leaned forward and stroked his hair. His face was peaceful.
This was how she had felt when they had first spoken. When they had first breathed together. As if she could not be without him.
Despite him looking so different, and seeming so different... they were the one soul. It was scary. Christine could not leave Erik. She never could.
Even when she had been apart from him physically, she had felt such a dreadful urge to get back.
She gazed at him sleeping.
Oh, if fate ripped them apart now...
She would never forgive it. She would fight fate itself.
Author's note: "Her Virtue" and "Where is my Beloved" are both continuing.