Christine recommended that Erik go up and change his clothing, as she wished to walk along the beach. His current attire, although dashing, was improper for the outing and probably too expensive to chance ruining in the sand. She was already wearing a simple pale linen gown that came up to her neck, but not past it; ideal for keeping her warm, but not too heavy to allow her to feel the ocean breeze through the breathable cloth. She longed for the simplicity of her childhood garments. Oh, what it would feel like to be able to wear a short dress and run barefoot in the sand without seeming inappropriate to others. She recalled how much fun it was to chase seagulls and get close to the waves before squealing back up the shore to escape getting caught in a cold wave of seawater.

Erik's head was marginally better by the time he descended. He was dressed in light trousers and wore a matching vest over a loose cotton shirt. His tan boots were very comfortable and he was glad for the thought to pack them. There was no need to change his mask. He wore his one of soft calf leather that had been bleached almost white. It was the most inconspicuous and the most comfortable. He prayed he would not need to use his emergency backup mask, as it had not yet been properly broken in and rubbed his face in places causing sores. How he hated the need for a new mask, but like every other accessory, they tended to wear out over the years.

Erik joined her outside. She was carrying a picnic basket under one arm and a parasol in the other hand. He offered to take the basket then offered his arm to her.

As they walked down the path towards the rocky cliffs that led down to the beach, Erik marveled at the normality of the occasion. He imagined with his minds eye, how they must look to any other passing couple. Two well-dressed people, arm in arm, enjoying a stroll in the sunlight off to share a picnic on some secluded stretch of the beach. He smiled and was suddenly very comfortable to be out in public.

Not that there was much public. Some children and their family were playing on the pasture next to the cliffs. A little boy squealed as his older brother tried to catch him and hold him down to tickle him. He watched Christine smile as they passed the family to head down the steps cut into the outcropping that led down to the sand below.

Erik had never envisioned having children. You had to have a wife, or at the very least, a mistress, to make that a possibility. He suddenly saw a new fantasy surrounding his impossible dream of wedding Christine. He glanced down at her slight figure and imagined her belly swelled up with his child and how she would glow with happiness. The idea struck him so suddenly that he was shocked to find that it made him want her even more.

'Great,' he cursed himself, 'yet another thing to impossibly desire.'

They could hear the crashing of the waves below even louder now as they approached the shore. The beach was relatively deserted. It was not yet late spring when the hoards of vacationing travelers visited the ocean. Erik let his arm drop and dared to hold her hand in his. He led her down the steps, marveling at the warmth of her hand in his.

Christine followed Erik and she was careful not to slip. Holding his hand in front of her felt so comforting and strong; he would not let her fall. When he faced away from her and she was unable to see his mask, she caught herself admiring his physique. His frame was strong and lithe like a dancers'. He walked with purpose and grace and she felt herself blush when she wondered what he might look like with his shirt off. Would he resemble the other male dancers at the Opera? It was years ago when she saw her first naked chest of a man when she joined the ballet corps. The company of the theater she learned was none too shy when it came to partial nudity. It was necessary considering the costume changes, and some of the costumes themselves left little to be imagined.

Her face flushed but she managed to compose herself before Erik turned around to look at her.

"Shall we find a place to picnic?" Erik offered.

"Yes, please," she replied, and followed him down the beach.

Later they sat on the blanket she had packed into the basket and dined on cold meat, cheese, fresh apples, and drank a glass of wine each. She lay back to stare up at the sky with her hands crossed behind her head.

Seeing Christine lying like this nearly drove Erik out of his mind. Her small delicate breasts pressed up against the fabric of her dress as she breathed out a sigh. Her dark lashes brushed against her cheek as she closed them and soaked up the rays of the sun on her face. It was all he could do to refrain from lying down next to her, or for that matter, on top of her. He turned away from her and stared out at the ocean's vast expanse.

"Do you know what I wish?" Christine inquired, breaking the silence.

"Hm? What is that?" Erik said, not looking her way.

Christine rolled herself onto her side propping her head up with her hand and leaning on her elbow, "I sometimes wish I didn't have to be a lady and do what's proper. Is that wicked of me?"

Given Erik's current state of mind, his thoughts about what she might be suggesting were completely off. He shook his head and said, "What do you mean?" hoping she might elaborate more.

She smiled sheepishly, "If it were up to me, I would say to hell with propriety. I would tear off this ridiculously long dress and fling it into the sea, and then go chasing after it in only my undergarments, if I did not possess a swimming frock."

Erik stared at her incredulously. Who was this girl and where did his innocent little Christine go? His lust got the better of him. "Go right ahead then," he tried not to sound serious even though the devil on his one shoulder told him otherwise, "There's nobody around to see but me, and I've seen you in worse at the Opera."

She suddenly sat up and said, "You're serious?" Her face was wide-eyed with shock that he would suggest such a thing.

Erik's grin fell from his face when he realized she had been the one joking with him. "No! No, of course I'm not serious!" Oh but he was, he thought. Only in his wildest dreams would such a thing…

He realized she was grinning from ear to ear.

And she was removing her shoes and stockings very quickly.

'No, she can't be,' his inner voice protested with disbelief.

Before he could stammer out a comprehensible protest, Christine's dress was being tossed down to the sand and she was racing out towards the waves wearing only her petticoats, chemise, and corset.

He watched her as her legs kicked up the water and sand and she squealed at how cold it was. Even the chastest of men could not have refrained from watching this scene. He felt the tightness growing in his groin and a throbbing pain followed. This was simply maddening. Had they been young lovers out for a tryst he would have joined her, cold water or no. Christine's brazen adventure was short lived however. A rather large wave took her by surprise and knocked her down into the water in front of her. She fell onto her hands and knees in the surf and came up choking and gasping on the seawater she swallowed.

"Christine!" Erik cried. He leapt to his feet and raced out to help her from the water. She was just managing to get to her feet again when he strode into the foamy sea, boots and trousers and all, soaking himself to the waist.

He flung his arm around her shoulders and walked her back toward the picnic blanket. She was still choking on the water that she spit out but she was laughing at the same time.

They walked up the shore away from the waves at least a dozen steps before Erik looked down at her. She was smiling and staring up at him. "My hero," she said.

He barely heard a word of it. His gaze was fixed on the blushed rounds of her nipples staring out at him through the thin wet material of her chemise.

She followed his gaze down and very suddenly tore herself away from him to face the other way, covering her chest with her hands and attempting to pull the dripping fabric away from her body. He heard her low swear, a word no lady should ever utter.

Erik swore his heart had stopped beating until he heard the whoosh of blood rush into his head. Under the mask he must have turned ten shades of red before he managed to compose himself and stoop to retrieve the blanket. He shook it out to free it of the sand that clung to the underside and half flung it around Christine's shoulders.

She continued to stare at the sand in front of her in disbelief at her own actions and embarrassment. It was some time before she turned around. Erik stood behind her, waiting. The man was staring at her, the tension etched into every ounce of his body. She was not sure who was more embarrassed. She suddenly felt so ashamed of herself. 'What had come over her?' she wondered.

Erik said nothing to her. He finally moved to bend down and pick up her soiled dress from the ground and brush it off. He held it out reluctantly it seemed to her, then turned around and murmured, "Let me know when you've dressed."

Christine shoved herself into the linen garment, wincing as the material pulled against her salty skin. She was sure the dress was ruined now. Suddenly the sunlight beaming down on them seemed to mock her momentary freedom and childish behavior. How she wished it were raining to blend her wet clothing in with everybody else's. She prayed they would pass few people on the way back to the inn.

Erik gathered up their things in the basket and picked up Christine's shoes. He started walking toward the steps on the cliff and Christine silently followed after him.