Chapter Four
Courtship
Erik
Standing in the darkness I am frozen in place, not by fear but by shock, shock that a woman not only touched me freely but placed her soft lips against mine.
Instant passion burst into flame the moment our lips met. My mind is so fluid from immediate sexual arousal then just as quickly it is as if cold water dropped down from the ceiling leaving me confused and frustrated. The temptress fueled a fire she had no intention of keeping burning.
Christine's two kisses upon lips tainted by an affliction bestowed on me in my mother's womb are becoming hazy memories as my mind grapples with what happened just a few moments ago. Isabella left with a flourish of black satin and lace. Her alluring perfume drifts around me in a subtle cloud of seduction. I curse my inability to keep a clear head so I might have glimpsed even a small part of her. Nothing in the softmess of her luscious lips speaks of deformity. On the contrary they are very…lucious and taste of eager suplication. What we both lack in experience we surely made up for in eagerness.
Coming to grips with my emotional turmoil there is nothing to do but ready myself and my home so that it and I will please my future paramour, at least it is to be hoped I have not been dreaming only to wake in my bed alone with only tangled bed linens for company.
Contrarily time slips by far more quickly than I would expect. Where once nerves of steel kept me strong now they are aflutter sending me this way and that straightening pillows, lighting candles and cleaning away cobwebs long overdue for removal.
Glancing around at the sparse furnishings regret seeps in for having removed some of my finer artistic touches. Too late I realize it is not a relationship born out of mutual desperation. There is much more I seek from our liaison, yes, I want much, much more from her.
Yearnings I thought dead and buried the night Christine left are now demanding to be heard. Sexual gratification is all well and good but cannot sustain body and soul through long lonely years of a person's life. Humans need companionship, a closeness strengthened over time. Time I fear is not something allotted to me in quantity in so far as any real happiness in my life is concerned. Always it is destroyed by outsiders or more often than not by my own crazed theatrics. A certain chandelier dropping down to deliver death and destruction comes to mind.
The hour is at hand. An unnatural trembling quakes through me. I am nervous as a callow youth whether or not I am willing to admit it.
The column panel slides open to reveal a vision in blue, a dark sapphire color that sparkles with shimmering light as she moves. Did the lights remain on for just this purpose? The voices of the audience below fade into nothingness. We could be alone for all the notice I took of my surroundings.
Good God above, just beneath the short blue veil there is a patch of skin more tantalizing than the nudes I keep for my own pleasure. Berry red lips temptingly reminiscent of the dewy sweet fruit, a particular favorite of mine, invite a man to sample their sweetness.
I may be wrong but it is my understanding Isabella bore her affliction over the whole of her body. Not a single blemish mars her pert chin or perfectly formed lips. Neck sleek and long bring an ache within me to touch, to kiss, to know more. Perhaps like me, Isabella has some perfection amidst all her many flaws.
Feet move of their own accord, bringing us within touching distance. Should I chance stealing a kiss, a mere touching of lip to lip? Trepidation rules, counseling caution. Before my uncertainty can sway me from doing so, I reach out and take her hand. Lips yearning for wet passion of her mouth must find appeasement in the lace covering her hand. Not nearly as smooth or soft as the lush skin of Isabella's mouth if memory serves me and most assuredly it does.
The moment my lips touch her, my ears pick up the quick intake of air as if deprived of this source of life for too long. Lifting my head I stare fixedly where I know her eyes are returning my gaze just as intently. If only I could shoot fire from my eyes as many in the opera house declared that lace veil would be ash at our feet.
"Mademoiselle may I say how lovely you look this evening. I daresay you will outshine anything in my humble home," the flamboyant compliment rolls easily off my tongue. Perhaps I heard the line in a performance or read it in a book. Being a seducer of women is not something that comes easily for me.
Christine…Christine was a child, is still a child. Most likely she will remain childlike for the rest of her days. Quilt for my duplicity in keeping her from outgrowing childish dreams is something I shall bear heavily upon my blackened soul.
At the time the years between us did not seem to matter. For all my great age of thirty-five it is a fair assumption skills males normally learn at their father's knee is not something I could experience having no father in my life, or mother for that matter.
"Erik there is nothing humble about your home or you for that matter. I find you extremely interesting. Your home is a reflection of your eclectic tastes. I for one admire a person willing to forgo what is considered fashionable so they may express their own preferences," Isabella declares firmly.
Praise is not something heaped upon my head either. Much more of this and neither my head nor my chest will fit through any of the panels hidden within the opera house walls.
Within the column Isabella leans back against me. Things are stirring which I cannot control. It is to be hoped Isabella is aware of involuntary responses in men when aroused sexually. Having her feminine body pressed so tightly aligned with mine is as disturbing as it is pleasurable. Cautiously I splay my fingers just beneath those tempting mounds of flesh. So close and yet so far my imagination runs amok.
Feeling her hand cover mine I begin to wonder once again if I am dreaming. So many times my longing for womanly caresses has lead me to envision a life where my companion welcomed me with loving arms. Every time I awoke to cold reality.
My boat awaits us decked out in pillows and decorative lanterns. There is even a box of chocolates resting upon one of the pillows. I am not above bribery to get what I want. Our last conversation would have me believe any advance I dare make will be met with positive responses. I have learned over the years that women become all dewy eyed by the smallest sentimental gestures.
Our journey affords me time to observe her without it seeming as if I stare rudely at her. That small patch of tantalizing flesh teases and taunts. Is being so aroused by something so innocuous normal? When did removing gloves take on such erotic implications? My fingers twitch just imagining removing them from her small hands.
Catching her glancing below my waist, at least I believe her gaze is lowered there, where my arousal is clearly discernable. Isabella quickly turns her head away. Without seeing beneath the veil I cannot say for certain there is a blush staining her cheeks but I would wager all I own that a rosy glow covers that soft skin if indeed it is not flawed as mine is.
Isabella has said there is good reason to hide beneath a veil but it is hard for me to conceive any imperfections given the evidence of her perfect lips and tempting neck. God saw fit to bless me with just such beauty and imperfections but surely he would not curse someone as spiritually beautiful with so much outward ugliness. I dare not think what evil would be unleashed if I were cursed to the extent that Isabella suffers. My affliction is only a miniscule nuisance compared to her burden.
Eager to be near her again my landing of the boat and subsequent jump onto the rocky outcrop are less examples of finesse and more proof grace and sexual tension do not make for elegant movement.
Taking her two hands in my own I peruse that small patch of skin as some might eagerly gaze upon a painting hanging in the Louvre. Lest I give into my libidinous longings by kissing her senseless, I turn away so her tempting form is behind me and therefore out of my field of vision.
"Erik I…I am sorry if I…I did warn you my affliction was disgusting. What I cannot bear to see is no less unbearable for others. I…I thought with only candlelight and shadows from the tunnels you might be able…You did suggest we dress so we might partake of food. If it…if I disturb you to this extent I can lower the veil so all of me is once again hidden," her words are accompanied by a sniffle and a deep sigh.
Whirling around angrily I am about to lay into her for toying with me. Utter dejection curves her back casting her gaze to her feet. Glimpsing a quivering lip I am astounded to discover Isabella has no real idea about the perfection of her flesh, the part openly on display anyway.
What nonsense is this? How did such an otherwise intelligent woman come to think such vile things about herself?
This mystery is one I will unravel. No person should feel ostracized because of things they cannot control. What someone has done to Isabella is unconscionable. Of course I have not seen the rest of her so cannot make firm conclusions except on the facts I know to be true. Her lips are unforgettable. Chin and sleek neck beg for attention. My lips eagerly volunteer their service.
Deeply I kiss the quiver from her trembling mouth. Hands eagerly caress skin soft as the finest silk. At first hesitation meets my advance but it is short-lived. Her response is all I could ask of her.
Out of breath we pull apart but only slightly. Neither of us is ready to move away from the fiery heat just waiting to be fanned into a blaze. I feel as if I have been set afire from the inside out. It is to be hoped my kiss moved her in equal measure.
So softly I could not be certain she spoke or if I imagined I heard her say, "Oh, oh my."
Just as softly I whisper, "Oh my indeed my lovely Isabella." Grabbing hold of either arm she clutches the fabric of my jacket using that hold to pull me forward so she might kiss me again. Possession, I felt utterly possessed by her and with only a kiss. Might I not lose my soul with further pleasures shared, assuming I had a soul and there were many who would debate the point heatedly.
Throughout our simple meal of seasoned baked chicken, steamed asparagus and boiled potatoes, for every bite I took I watched her take three. I found her every movement fascinating.
Diabolical planning on my part concocted a dessert sure to please not only the palate but the senses as well. Melted chocolate with fresh picked strawberries to dip into the sweet seemed like the right choice given where my imagination drifted off during the meal preparation. I thought it too grass to use our fingers so against my own inclination fondue skewers will be provided. Wanting her attention to be solely on me I even unearthed my long ago buried culinary skills learned while watching the staff in the opera house kitchens.
Her glance mingled with mine enough times that my ego felt bolstered enough that I might chance advancing from a mere kiss to something more, nothing vulgar but something…more.
Clearing away the aftermath from our meal is done quickly. Politely Isabella offers to help but magnanimously I decline her offer. What sort of a gentleman would I be if I allow one drop of dirty dishwater to touch her hands. Temptation to accept on the off chance I might glimpse her hands is not easily squashed but reminding myself of what more I might gain is enough to waylay any curiosity for the moment.
Besides, doing menial chores such as the cleaning of used dishes, pots and pans is not something I do myself. Everything is placed in a wooden box, set outside the Rue Scribbe entrance then magically picked up, cleaned then returned in pristine condition, much the same as my clothing.
Crackling flames invite us to take up residence on the bearskin rug placed just close enough for us to feel the warmth from the flames without chancing getting burned by any errant sparks.
This scenario took me many hours of planning so that every little detail fell into place. Chilling champagne, warm melted chocolate and fresh red berries already sat on a serving tray nearby. Dozens of colored pillows surrounded us should we have need to lie down. Before taking my place beside my intriguing guest I make my way from lamp to lamp extinguishing the flames so that the only remaining light comes from two candles, one on either side of the rug. Close enough to cast a dim light but not enough to see anything with clarity.
Coming to rest beside Isabella I must squint to make out her dark form. Perhaps the candles should have been placed closer. I did not take into consideration Isabella's dark clothing. A wicked smile spreads across lips not used to any sort of smile. If one cannot see then will it not be forgiven if one must search the darkness with seeking hands? If they come to rest upon a warm supple form the impropriety can be dismissed as an honest mistake. Did I subconsciously gauge the distance light from the fireplace could reach? If so I will blame it on my inner demon. He is responsible for all my bad deeds.
Without seeming to move at all soon I am much closer to Isabella. I feel the warmth of her flesh radiating around her. How would it feel to awake to such warmth snuggly fitted against me every morning? The coldness of my bed has been a sore point all of my life. The vast emptiness of the space beside me mocks cruelly in the lonely hours when sleep should bring blessed relief from everyday trials.
Deftly dipping a berry into the chocolate I raise it toward Isabella's mouth huskily instructing her to open her mouth. Sexual tension lowers the timbre of my voice giving me the sound of a man used to inhaling tobacco on a regular basis.
Like a bird being feed by its mother Isabella obediently drops open her luscious lower lip. Nothing I imagined compared to how arousing it is to watch her lips close around the rounded flesh of the fruit. Like a man drugged beyond control of his faculties my eyes follow the slow glide of her tongue as it licks away a mixture of chocolate and sweet strawberry nectar. Drawn helplessly forward I cannot take my gaze away from the shimmer of residual juice left behind despite her efforts to remove the sticky substance.
For a moment Isabella startles to see me moving toward her. Do I imagine it or does her bosom begin to rise and fall at a faster pace than before. Again her wayward tongue moves with sensual precision along her lower lip. Is it insanity to wish to be that blessed bit of flesh? If so, then I say let me remain insane for the rest of my days.
With more control than I feel I slowly place my mouth over hers. That first taste nearly drives me over the edge. Taking the kiss deeper brings a sigh or groan from Isabella. The level of my inexperience does not give me any ready answer. Instinct alone guides me on this journey. All the books in the world could not prepare a person for the reality of such an intimate exchange.
I feel cheated not having any memory of this sort of pleasure when Christine kissed me. Perhaps I did at the time but events afterward wiped any pleasant recollections from my mind. Those kisses came at a time when duress claimed most of my thoughts. Now only vague reminiscences are left to prove I did not imagine Christine's last kindness toward me.
How we came to be lying down I cannot say. One moment we are sharing an earth shattering kiss then the next I am sprawled across my amour like a lecherous stagehand. Contrary to my belief my face is about to be given a well deserved slap, Isabella groans out my name in such a manner as to inflame my libido well beyond the point of reining it in.
Who moved what where became clouded as sensations just discovered flooded our bodies casting clear sane thought into the wind. Clumsy we both may be but that does not hinder our exploration or expression of the lust fueling our every movement. By unspoken agreement those places needing to stay hidden remain a mystery. My one complaint is that although stimulating to touch all those womanly places denied me until now, I would much rather fondle smooth supple skin instead of silk and lace.
"Erik…" a voice from somewhere calls out my name. Louder now I hear, "Erik, we must stop. You…I…we…this is not the time or…what I mean to say is…"
Gradually the fog of sensation begins to clear. To save her from becoming bogged down in words to politely convey that a lady should not be taken upon the floor like some animal in a barn I manage to say, "Your first time and mine as well deserve something more opulent than a cold stone floor. Forgive me. You are a proper young lady and as such should have every expectation you will not be tossed on the floor and mauled by a degenerate too long denied the joys of the flesh."
I would be perfectly happy to stay right where we are but the lady needs more convincing. Now is not the time to breech her walls of maidenly innocence. For all she was willing now, later she would come to regret such an impetuous union, already regrets giving in to her desires. There will be other nights, other unconventional places lovers find where carnal encounters can be enjoyed.
"Oh dear, I fear I am making a mess of things. Far be it from me to claim to have any objections to your chosen…chosen scene of seduction or…or to anything you did to me. Were my responses to your advances so unskilled they left you in doubt just how badly I wanted to continue, would have continued if not for the fact we still are for all intent and purposes strangers?"
Luckily for me my mind can focus on more than one thing at a time for the movement of her lips drew my gaze. It mattered not what words she spoke, all I needed was to see those swollen lips still glistening wetly from my impassioned kisses. There is a small bruising mark just where I nipped that tempting skin with my teeth in the hollow of her neck. How well my tongue remembers the taste of her from soothing away any pain caused by my love bite. That trick I learned from one of many books on the subject of making love and how to reach satisfaction.
Regretfully I release my hopes of seducing her into further dalliance. Isabella confirmed our courtship, for that is what I now know I am doing, I am courting Isabella, she has with her own words committed us to another night spent in one another's company.
When I would have turned the flame up on the lamps a hand on my arm forestalled such an action. I prefer darkness to light. Isabella shares my preference. In that respect we are well suited.
The remainder of our night is spent discussing one innocuous topic after another. I do not feel as if we are boring one another. It is more a feeling that we need no words to fill the moments of silence. Just being together with someone you fully trust brings its own rapture. Then too, there are the stolen glances we pretend not to see.
While keeping up my end in this exchange my mind is also plotting and planning ways to sway Isabella to lie upon my bed with me. We need not engage in anything she might find objectionable. All I ask is that we get to know our physical bodies while learning the inner workings of our minds.
Distasteful scars crisscross over my back and legs. Facial disfigurement is not my only shame. Cruel caretakers used me to expend their anger and frustration. In order to ease her into removing clothing, even if only her gloves in the beginning, there must be complete trust between us. Life has made it so that revealing my body is difficult for me also.
Careful wording spoken in just the right tone won me Christine's trust and obedience. Will not the same approach win me what I want from Isabella?
Our return trip in the boat feels familiar enough one could assume we knew one another for years rather than occasional meetings over the last month. Isabella finds my company to be nonthreatening so much I am sure her eyes are closed and quite possibly sleep has overtaken her. Being with me is normally stressful. Ask anyone in the opera house and they will tell you just how stressed everyone became at the mere mention of my name. Every moving shadow posed some threat. There is some truth in that I willingly admit.
Abandoning my pole I take a seat beside Isabella. How far can things go inside a small boat? Taking advantage of her body pressed against mine I woo her by touch alone. Hesitantly I move stiff lace using only my chin. I am grateful the material cooperates for it would be awkward to have to wrestle it aside as an unskilled youth might do. I am free now to taste her and I make use of this opportunity to sway her into giving herself over to me completely.
Blood boiling bringing every sense to heightened awareness it is hard to rein in those overpowering urges to claim and conquer. Taking by force has never appealed to me at least when it comes to matters of intimacy. The body is sacred and thus should only be given to another by freewill.
The boat drifts steadily along on the current. The journey has never seemed so short from my home to the panel leading to the collumn in Isabella's box. The upward journey is even of a shorter duration. Holding her so close to me has its rewards. If the slightest inclination came from her that she would rather return to my home this very moment we would be back in my bed before we could take a second breath.
Before she goes I must find the words to ask for what I want. I am almost certain she wants the same, after all did she not say as much in her own words when laying out the rules for our relationship?
"Isabella, the next time we will share a bed." My rehearsed speech never left my mouth. What sort of man will she think me to be offering, no, declaring she will share my bed? When she tenses I quickly clarify my meaning.
Soothingly I run my hand slowly up and down her arm. Correspondingly a shiver runs through her. I am beginning to know the difference between flesh quivering in fear and flesh responding to sensual stimulation. My touch is welcome and dare I say, desired?
"Perhaps in my eagerness I did not express myself properly. What I suggest is we merely lie together so we may become accustomed to having another so close when normally we would be alone. It is a logical next step," my explanation tumbles out with less finesse than I would like. Now I am worried I did not state my case in such a way that I do not sound lecherous and inept once again. Curse my inexperience.
"Oh…well…if you think it best then I agree. After all I must bow to your expertise. My life has been absent of suitors but you…you…" she ends in a tangle or words.
Ah, yes, my vast experience, Christine Daaé. We both know how that turned out. My pride has not recovered enough for me to go into that time of my life with her or anyone. What next should I say?
Rescue comes in the form of Isabella's brother knocking at the locked door. If not for my pact to turn over a new leaf the man may have found himself in one of my traps or hanging from the rafters with a Punjamb tied around his throat.
"Isabella! Open this door at once. Who is that in there with you? Open this door I say or I shall be forced to break it down," he yells loud enough to disturb the whole opera house. He may not care but I am certain Isabella does.
"One moment, Felix, I have lost my shoe," comes her breathless reply.
When she turned from me I pull her back with a tug at her wrist. Coming to rest against me she must tilt her head to look at me. Those lips and neck I know taste like nectar and tempt me to want more. Resisting lifting that veil is getting harder to fight.
"In two days. Come to me in two days. The understudy takes over while the diva rests her voice. Come and listen to her. Tell me what you think," is what I finally say. I do not want her to think that I am only interested in sexual gratification. I am but it will sound crass to say it even to my own ears. What harm will there be in sharing other subjects as well?
"In two days, then. I shall be here in two days," she says softly. Her lips are tempting beyond my ability to resist tasting them once more. One last hard satisfying kiss then I am back in the column and on my way back to my home lest I forget my plan and simply kidnap her after killing her brother. Perhaps I may have to deal with him sometime in the near future.