8:38.
Erik saw the time on the grandfather clock and got up from the piano. He wanted to get to Mademoiselle's a little early to guarantee he would get a good seat. Tonight was Christine's first night as lead dancer, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was excited for her. Even though he hated seeing her in this profession, he was happy that she had earned her keep here.
The moon shone brightly in the sky, illuminating the Red Light district. Mademoiselle's had just turned on its lights, welcoming in the pigs that flocked the street. Erik watching as the rich snobs made their way into the club, paying the guard as they walked through the door.
Erik approached the guard, pulling a handful of coins from his pocket. "Good evening, Fredrick. I would prefer a table that is right next to the stage tonight." He placed the coins in Fredrick's hand, making the guard's eyes widen. "Oh, oh course Monsieur. I think you'll be pleased to find yourself at table two tonight."
With a smirk and a nod, Erik was off to his table. He found table two, which was next to the best table in the place, table one. Table one was directly at the foot of the stage and gave patrons a perfect view of all the girls. Erik glanced over to see who had bid higher than him and gotten the table.
A golden haired boy with a very fancy suit sat with his hands crossed on the table. He looked to be around twenty. Why was he here? How had a young boy like him pocketed enough money to afford that table?
Erik furrowed his brows and stared at the boy. He must be from a rich family, but even so, why was he here instead of back in his mansion with a gorgeous wife?
The boy must have seen Erik staring at him. He leaned towards Erik. "Monsieur, is there a problem?" he asked. Erik snapped back to reality and sat up straighter.
"My apologies, Monsieur. I've just never seen you around here before," Erik said, running a hand through his hair. The boy nodded. "This is my first time coming here. All of my friends say this is the best club in Paris."
He extended his hand to Erik. "I am the Vicomte de Changy. My friends just call me Raoul, though," he smirked.
'Cocky,' Erik thought. Nevertheless, he extended his hand and shook the Vicomte's. "Erik," he said. "My name is nothing fancy, I'm afraid."
The Vicomte laughed. "That's nothing to be ashamed of, Monsieur. Obviously you have much to your name, getting a table like the one you're at!"
'This fool! How dare he discuss my personal finances! He is nothing more than an insolent boy!'
Erik returned his hand to his lap, ceasing conversation with the Vicomte. The band began to play and the lights came up. A spotlight went up to the top platform of the stage, revealing Christine in the same outfit she'd worn to rehearsals early. She sat on the platform with her bare legs crossed. She raised her arms above her head and opened her mouth.
"Are you ready to dance?" She called, a wide smile consuming her face.
"Wow, isn't she something?" The Vicomte said, looking over at Erik. A foolish grin fell upon the boy's mouth. Erik scowled. That boy could not think about Christine that way! Christine was his!
The crowd cheered and she stood. "Then come on out, ladies! Let's give these fellows their money's worth!"
The girls filled out on stage, some going into the audience.
'The usual.'
Erik kept his eyes on Christine. She once again had dark makeup on her eyes and bright red lips. Her body seemed glossy, as if she'd been lathered in something. Christine made her way to the front of the stage, standing right before the Vicomte.
His face suddenly went white and his jaw dropped. Christine did not look at him; instead she looked over and winked at Erik. She opened her mouth and began to sing. It wasn't the new song Erik had written for her, to his disappointment. It was the same silly song Scarlet had always opened with. Erik sat back and listened.
Erik couldn't help but wonder why the boy at the table one was so pale. He seemed shocked beyond belief, unable to spit out any words. Why had he acted like that? It wasn't like he knew Christine… did he?
Erik shook the thoughts from his head and focused on Christine. She had moved to a different platform of the stage, posing seductively as she sang. The other girls were either dancing around the stage or in the laps of strangers. Christine thrusted her body against a male dancer, which brought a blush to Erik's face.
Erik took a moment to glance back over at the Vicomte. There was a new man at his table. The two were whispering and the Vicomte was pointing at Christine. Erik tried his best to listen in.
"But Philippe! I know it's her, she came right up to the front and I saw her face!"
The other man shook his head. "Raoul, my dear brother, I think you are seeing things. I know you miss her, but you need to get over it. You knew Christine better than I, but even I know she would never leave you to become a common whore!"
Erik's eyebrows rose up to his hairline. He knew Christine?! She used to be with him?
"But Philippe… I saw her. It's Christine, I'm telling you! Look, here she comes! Look at her face!"
Christine made her way to the front of the stage again as the song was about to end. Erik's heart pounded in his chest. She could not have known that boy! There was no way!
Christine finished the song with a signature pose on the edge of the stage. Erik's eyes went to the two beside him. The older boy's eyes widen as he looked up at Christine.
"Christine?" the Vicomte said, gazing up at her.
As the lights changed, Christine looked down to see who had said her name. Her jaw dropped as she saw him. She quickly looked away from the boy and let her smile return to her face. She momentarily glanced at Erik before turning and going offstage.
The Vicomte quickly got up from his seat, but was pulled back down by the other man. "Brother, listen to me," he said, restraining the Vicomte. "We will return tomorrow and you may speak to her then. But for now, we must leave."
The Vicomte tried to argue, but found it was useless. He and his brother left the club in a hurry, leaving Erik alone to wonder.
After the show was over, Erik went quickly to Christine's dressing room. He knocked twice before the door opened. Christine stood in another corseted leotard set with her robe. She pulled him inside and quickly shut the door.
"Erik, thank God," she said. "No one can know you're here, understand? Marie does not want me seeing you, and if you are caught…"
Erik stopped her, taking her hands gently. "Christine, do not worry. I will never be seen, I promise you. I have been known to be a master of lurking and hiding."
He smiled at Christine, relaxing her a bit. She exhaled and nodded, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
Erik was shocked by the hug. He slowly returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her and resting his hands on her back. She nuzzled her head into his chest and Erik slowly reached a hand up, stroking her soft, chocolate curls.
The embrace was broken when there was a knock on the door. Christine jumped back, beginning to panic. "One moment!" she called, frantically looking around. "Erik, hide!" she hissed, pushing him away from the door.
Erik quickly hid under a covered table as Christine went to the door. She pulled it open, putting her courtesan act back on.
"Why hello, monsieur. How may I service you this evening?" she asked, her voice taking on a seductive tone. The man held out a bag of coins and smirked. Christine opened the door wider, guiding him in.
'Bloody hell…' Erik thought. Was she really going to do this now?!
Christine slid a paper heart under the door as she locked it. The man was rather handsome man, tall and slim. He slipped off his jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat as Christine turned to him. "What is your name, Monsieur?" she asked, moving to him and helping him unbutton his shirt.
"Santiago," he said. His accent was thick and pure, distinguishing that he was of strong Spanish descent.
Christine smirked at him, removing his shirt. "You're not from Paris, I presume," she whispered. "It's nice to get a taste of foreign lands once in a while."
With that, the man was quickly undoing her corset. He brought his lips to hers as he stripped her down to nothing.
Erik sat uncomfortably under the table as the man pressed Christine to the bed. He heard all of Christine's sighs and moans as the Spaniard smashed into her. Erik tried to ignore what was going on a mere ten feet away from him, but it was nearly impossible.
After a few minutes, he peeked out from under the table. The man had shoved Christine up against the headboard as he fulfilled his wants and needs. She was naked and sweating, her eyes closed and fingers clawing at the man's back. Erik looked away, not able to watch. It felt wrong looking at her like that. She had trusted him as her friend; he was in no position to stare.
After another ten minutes, the room fell silent. Erik soon heard the weight of the bed shift as the man got up. He grabbed his clothing, dressing quickly and leaving the room. Erik peered out once again from under the table to make sure the man had left. He slowly got out from under the table, groaning quietly as he stretched his muscles.
Erik looked over at Christine's bed. She lay bare naked with her head tilted back, her eyes closed tight. He quickly covered her with the sheet, trying his hardest not to look at her naked self.
Christine sighed deeply, slowly opening her eyes. "I'm sorry, Erik…" she said sadly, looking down at the bunched up sheets and pillows. The poor girl, her innocence taken from her once again. Erik gently brushed the hair from her face. "I will run you a bath, Christine," he said softly.
The girl shook her head. "It's no use. He's probably not the last one of the night," she said, a small frown appearing on her lips.
Erik stroked her hair lightly, feeling bad for her. Poor, lost girl. He hoped and prayed that no other men would come tonight. Christine was already exhausted from a long night, she didn't need anyone else coming for a 'visit'.
Christine slowly sat up, using the sheet to cover herself. She rested her head on Erik's shoulder, closing her tired eyes. "Why must things be like this? Why did I have to choose this life?"
Erik could hear how broken she was. He knew she did not want to give herself up to strangers every night, but she felt like she had no other choice. He gently wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer to him.
Christine sighed deeply. "That wasn't making love," she mumbled. "He was just another man looking to relieve his lust." She opened her eyes and looked up at Erik. "I'm sorry you had to be here for that. I'll try my hardest to make sure it doesn't happen again."
The girl closed her eyes once more, nuzzling her head back into his shoulder. Her nose brushed against his neck, sending a chill through Erik's spine. He pulled the girl into his lap, letting her rest there. She did not exactly sleep, but she was not awake. Erik did not mind. He kept her close to him, letting her rest for as long as she wanted.
Christine reopened her eyes about twenty minutes later. She shifted her body, wrapping her arms around Erik's torso. He looked down at her, smiling slightly to himself.
"Christine… what was that you put outside the door when the Spaniard came in?" he asked, stroking her hair once more.
She slowly lifted her head up. "Oh, I forgot. That just basically means I'm busy with a customer. When the others see it, they know not to bother me. I should go bring it back inside." She began to get up, but Erik stopped her.
"Leave it. As long as it's out there, you won't be bothered. While it's out there, you can clean yourself up and relax a little more. You've endured enough tonight," Erik spoke softly into her ear. Christine looked up at him.
"You don't understand the life of a courtesan, do you?"
Erik frowned. "Christine, you deserve a night off. Come, I will draw you a bath and you may clean up."
The girl shook her head. "A courtesan provides her services until closing time, Erik. I am supposed to be open for another two hours. I have to provide my services or I will be in trouble. I'm sorry, but that's how it works…"
She got up from his lap, wrapping the sheet around herself and padding over to the door. She opened it and picked up the paper. Before she could close the door, she was stopped by a voice.
"Madame, I assume you are still open?" the man said. Erik quickly darted back under the table.
Christine returned to her act. "Oh, of course, Monsieur. Do come in. I apologize for the lack of order in the room…"
Before she could finish speaking, the door was closed and her sheet was removed. Erik watched as the man forced her to the bed, removing his clothes while doing so. Christine went along with it, letting the man do as he wished. After all, it was her job.
Erik sighed. 'Will this madness ever end?'
The man finished with Christine rather quickly, dropping some coins on the bedside table before leaving. As soon as the door shut, Erik got out from under the table. He went to Christine, wrapping her in the sheet once more and picking her up. He noticed a small spot of blood on the sheet. "Christine…" he said, looking down at the spot in shock.
She sighed. "It happens sometimes when they're rough," she mumbled, keeping her eyes shut.
Erik shook his head. That was ridiculous. He wouldn't let her endure any more pain tonight. He picked her up, carrying her to the small bathroom. He set her down, letting her stand as he filled the tub. Christine did not argue, for she was too tired.
Erik filled the tub with warm water and soap to make bubbles. He exited the bathroom, giving Christine her privacy.
The masked man returned to her bedchamber. He looked around at the mess the two men had made. The blankets and pillows were thrown from the bed and random coins had been put on the tables. Erik sighed and began to remake Christine's bed, finding that the sheet Christine had wrapped herself in was not the only one that had blood on it. Her other two sheets also had dark red stains, though there's were from previous events.
He couldn't help but notice that most of the blood stains were towards the top of the sheets. That was odd, why would they be towards the top?
Erik tried not to think about it much. He continued to make her bed, gently pulling the sheets and blankets back to where they belonged. He straightened her pillows, then took a look at the bed. It looked much nicer, almost like nothing had happened in it that night. Erik took a seat across the room on her divan, waiting for her to finish her bath.
After a few more minutes of silence, Erik decided to check on Christine. He knocked twice on the door, waiting for her to either open it or say something. When neither happened, he took it upon himself to enter.
He slowly opened the door, peeking his head in slightly. "Christine?" he called quietly, slowly glancing over at the bath. He saw her with her eyes closed and head tipped back.
Erik panicked and quickly went to the bath. He saw her chest rising and falling softly, indicating that she had just fallen asleep.
"Oh, Christine…" he said softly, shaking his head. He began to drain the water as he lifted her out of the tub. Erik grabbed a towel and quickly dried her off. She was beautiful. Her skin was glowing bright like the morning sun and her lips were like two red rose petals. She was the equivalent of a beautiful spring day. He took a moment to gaze at her before he carried her back into the bedchamber. He set her gently on her bed, careful not to wake her up. Erik looked around, trying to find something to dress her in. He spotted a small armoire in the corner. He went to it, opening it and quickly going through its contents.
He found that Christine was only given one night gown. The rest of the armoire consisted of two day dresses and many 'costumes'. Erik frowned and removed the nightgown. It was sheer, lacey, and short. The thing would hardly cover her! Nevertheless, Erik slipped her into it. It was not a typical nightgown you would see in a clothing store. It was tight and revealing, not modest and flowy like most. Erik felt bad that this was the only thing she was given to sleep in. Certainly it was not the easiest garment to lie in.
Erik ignored the nightgown and pulled back the covers of the bed. He placed Christine beneath them, gently laying her head on a pillow. He tucked her in, allowing himself to gently plant a kiss on her forehead.
'Sweet dreams, Mon Ange.'