Author's note: Hey I need you! Submit your ideas of what sort of things from the 20th& 21st centuries Gabrielle should be missing. What do you think Erik would like to know about? I'll include some of these in upcoming chapters. You can include those in the reviews or email me at I'd love to know your thoughts. -Leesa
Some reviewers thought that Erik should be angry at Gabrielle's rejection. He should feel rejection, but also guilt for giving into his passions in a manor that would lead him to act dishonorably. He has some scruples towards women (when he isn't dealing with a rival). To answer the question of Erik being a skilled lover in spite of his inexperience: His books, a vivid imagination, and years of pondering the possibilities!
Kudos and cookies (fresh baked, of course), to all my worthy reviewers—do pass the word around about my Phanfic (if you see fit to). I could use a Beta if any one knows of one.
OK. Let's do it…
Re-cap: Erik and Gabrielle get very frisky in the barn. She gets cold feet and bolts from the barn leaving Erik in a very bad state…
Ch 11- Sleeping Beast
"I'm sorry, I just can't." I left him there in the straw looking disheveled and stunned.
The Magic Teacup ride at Disney World would have left me less mixed-up than my reaction to Erik.
Between the guilt, emotional confusion and the sexual rush, I'd lost the capacity for cognitive function. Running blindly down the path, I slammed open the kitchen door so hard; it hit the outside of the house. I didn't stop moving until I'd run through the halls and up the staircase. The sound of my boot heels bounced off the upstairs walls. Finally I reached the bathing room, closed the door, and latched the little hook and eye.
Whew, a bath, I need a bath; it's what I do when I need to clear my head. For me, it is acathartic ritual.
I began running water and thanked whoever invented the water heater that hot water could sprint through the plumbing ofwell-heeled 1876 homeowners.
Steam rolled up from the deep tub dampening the fixtures. I poured a generous stream of lavender oil into the bath, undressed and eased my weary bones into the water. It stung, but I didn't care, perhaps I could sear away my guilt. I felt like a traitor.
Erik had done nothing more than scratch and itch that had been spreading like a slow rash between the two of us for some weeks now. My unyielding response to him in the barn had led him to believe he could have me.
Why did I let things go so far? Here was a man who had suffered the humiliation of rejection most of his days and in one singular act of insecurity I had taken another chip off of his already fragile ego.
What a splendid way to treat someone who has always treated you with fairness. Why Erik even believes your cockamamie story about time traveling, yet he has asked little from you.
Did I want Erik? Was Napoleon French?And it was more than simple physical attraction too. Since June I had come to care about him for assorted reasons; there were no pretenses or games with M.Dupuis. He either tolerated you or he didn't; even fewer people pleased him. Above all, I found him to be the most electrifying and sensual being I had encountered in any century.
But what was I to him; a curiosity, a cook, a warm and possibly willing body for alonely and frustrated man?
That was the rub; so to speak, Erik mattered too much for me to jeopardize our current relationship for a quick, hot, roll in the hay.
We were from all together different worlds. What obstacles would we encounter if we did succumb to our desires? Did Erik even want more than a friend-with-benefits? These are questions that I did not have answers to, but their answers were detrimental to my sanity.
I didn't even know him, not really. Enigma man was my private moniker for Erik Thoughts of him were competing for space in my brain and winning. Was I becoming obsessed with him because of my seclusion, or was I truly interested in this man?
Obviously Erik is a man of intense passions, anyone who heard his music would never repute that. His genius and talent were irrefutable. He was clever and intelligent and amusing and I was desperately attracted to him.
Yet he could be gruff and unyielding. I could only imagine what wrath would be unleashed upon an unlucky recipient who crossed his path.
The thought of seeing his ravaged face never disturbed me. So what if his right side did match Leroux's description? His disfigurement only accounted for roughly one eight of his physical self. If one were to consider the entire man, it would be considerable less an amount.
I sunk my entire body under the water, thoroughly saturating my hair. Using what little of my Paul Mitchell that remained, I washed and rinsed my massive mane and pulled the cork on the drain. If only my confusion could swirl away as gracefully as those suds.
What next? Well Scarlet, why don't you think about it tomorrow, after all, tomorrow is another day. How am I going to articulate properly when I run out of fresh movie lines?
I wrapped the cotton bath sheet around my long mop of auburn hair and snatched my flannel robe from the hook on the back of the door. The lock popped out quietly, which I was grateful for. No one was lurking in the hall. Erik was in his music room giving the grand piano hell. Volatile notes rose up from the first floor music room, spilling into the hallway. The music swelled and ebbed like a typhoon crashing onto the shore. His fingers struck the piano's keys with the fierce intensity of enraged release.
The Phantom of the Opera is alive and well in this house tonight.
I'd do best just to slink off to bed, I thought wisely.
In spite of the music's considerable volume, I crept down the hall to my bedroom, opening and shutting the door as silently as the creaky old hinges would allow.
Mission accomplished.
I sat at the vanity and stared at my image. Dark circles, whoa- you need rest and good cosmetics girl.
As I began to work on my tangled hair, a little monster in my belly made itself known by grumbling loudly. Oh yeah, food, I hadn't eaten since two this afternoon.
Woman cannot live on angst alone Gabrielle, I chided myself. If I ignore it, it'll go away.
I made my way to the bed and crawled in. The Edgar Allen Poe collection was still on my bed table, so I picked up the book and turned up the lamp.
I was in the middle of the Tell Tale Heart, a gruesomely interesting story about, eyeballs, mad men and dead hearts beating—the perfect narrative for my state of mind. Three more pages later, the monster in my belly growled louder. Erik had stopped playing. Maybe he had gone to bed and I could safely sneak to the kitchen for some sustenance.
OK Seymour, I spoke to my belly, I'll feed you. I tossed Poe aside for another time and began my stealthy slink downstairs for a snack.
As I moved along the dark main hall, I noted that the heavy wood paneled doors of the library were open and the interior was dark. Proceeding farther down the wide marble corridor, I approached the music room. The door was closed and no light or sound emitted from it. Awesome. I had a clear shot through the dining room and into the kitchen where a Charlotte Russe waited in the icebox with my name on it.
Once in the food storage area, I drew a small candle from my pocket, lit it and proceeded to fill a basket with goodies.
After procuring the sweet, a leftover half bottle of wine and a croissant with a bit of brie (too bad they didn't have microwave ovens in 1876), I headed back upstairs.
The charlotte Russe looked too good to wait for so I stuck my index finger in and dug up a dollop of the rich Chantilly cream.
Dupuis Manor had settled into stillness that I found unusually eerie. Once again I drew near the music room. Was the door open or shut when I passed by it earlier? Damn, I don't remember. It was open now and that didn't feel right. I was absentmindedly sucking the cream from my finger when I heard him.
"Gabrielle."
It was not an inquiry, but a demand, punctuated by the dramatic way he extended the last two syllables of my name.
I jumped like a sheep in a room full of farm boys. This graceful movement caused me to fling Chantilly cream on my face.
"Geeze Louise Erik, must you be so creepy?" I shrieked.
"Come here, I'd like a word with you," his disembodied voice commanded.
Oh man, I just know he's going to get medieval on me. I actually began to tremble.
"Um Erik, I'm really tired and hungry. I thought I'd have a bite to eat and retire for the evening if it's alright with you."
"No, it is not alright with me." His tone was clipped and curt.
"Since you are currently in my employ I suggest you answer when I speak to you. Do I make myself clear Madame?"
I sighed and entered the music room. From the scant moonlight filtering in from the window by the piano, I saw Erik's silhouette.
"Come closer," he demanded gruffly.
"You're not planning to do me any harm are you?" Stupid question Gab, I'm sure he wouldn't tell you if he were.
"You believe me to be a unbearably horrific monster don't you Gabrielle?"
"No. That's simply not true. I don't believe you to be anything of the sort," I replied evenly.
Erik was barely discernable in the shadows, but I sensed, rather than heard his movement. He was within inches of his me now.
"Ah, but I may well be my dear lady. You've no idea of my capacity for horror. My face alone holds the power to prompt most women and men to flee in terror. My own mother's maternal instincts were permanently snuffed out when she first laid eyes on me. I can only imagine that the idea ofcoupling with my loathsome carcass caused you to bolt from my arms this very afternoon Gabrielle."
A flash of our sweaty naked bodies teased at my mind.
"No, your face has absolutely nothing to do with why…"
He cut me off brusquely, "Tell me darling, why be so warm and willing to my attentions one moment then flee from me the next?"
"I was confused, OK? You and I have been what one might describe as flirty on occasion, and I know you are a warm blooded Frenchman, but I had no idea that you desired me as much as I…Erik, look, my emotions were arguing with my logic. Yes, you are correct, you frighten me immeasurably."
He narrowed his eyes and glowered at me, appearing as if to pounce. I gulped in a hard breath, shored up my courage and continued, "Stop jumping to conclusions. Do you want to know the true reason I am so frightened of you Erik? I guarantee it is not what you are imagining. It is my reaction to you. That is what frightens me.
"Today in the barn—no, do not turn away from me—you wanted to know, isn't that why you summoned me in here? Today, I was surprised with, and overcome by, my desire.
"Since that day in June when I appeared in your cellar, you and I have slowly become more familiar with one another. We are of the same mind in many matters, often sharing the same ideals. I relish how we both find true beauty in art and music, plus we both detest supercilious ignorance. Our staggering personal losses also bond us together empathetically. And yes Erik DuPuis, I believe that you may, ever so slightly, consider me to be a friend."
He continued to eye me suspiciously.
"Curiosity is natural between two people of the opposite sex who like each other and live within the same walls as we do. So was I surprised at your physical advances today? You bet your bootie I was darlin'! I had no idea you thought of me in such a way. I mean, you've always been the perfect gentleman."
"Perhaps it's been a while since you have gotten some—sex that is. You might have been thinking; poor, lonely, lost Gabrielle, a soiled woman from a progressively age where all of the women are hot and cold running loose. As sexually open as the French are, compared to Americans, I still doubt your women are as wanton as my contemporary sisters must seem. What a primo opportunity for you Erik!"
"How dare you assume anything on my part Gabrie…" he began to protest loudly.
I held up a hand to stop him, "Listen to all I have to say before you make a rash judgment. My fear in giving myself to you is that if I do, you will earn a part of my soul and my heart, and perhaps I yours for that matter. Are you up to the responsibility? After the number Tony did on me, well, I am hesitant to open up to anyone, particularly a man who remains vastly unknown to me."
He began pacing back and forth, slamming his fist into his hand repeatedly.
"Erik— please stop pacing, and don't be so cross with me— especially because…" I glanced at my feet.
"Because you what?" He spat.
"Hey now, this is difficult enough for me without your intimidation tactics!"
"Madame," he motioned grandly for me to proceed.
"Because I adore you in so many ways, that's what damn it! If I turn a blind eye to logic and allow you to take what you want, what do I get in return? Do I earn your respect and affection, or your contempt and indifference? If you truly want me, you will have to make promises you may not be willing to keep. Not that I'm inferring you want to. Of course my particular circumstances would hamper any sort of serious attachment anyway."
Erik remained stoically silent. I was relieved that he was finally listening to me. I just prayed that was hearing as well.
"Erik," I soothed, cocking my head sideways in deference, I have never, ever considered you to be a monster. If we had met in 2005, even with the distractions of my insanely demanding professional life, our friendship would be a priority. But I digress; I'll wrap up this chatter now. I am deeply, deeply sorry if I alluded to something that I was not prepared to deliver. Leading you on wasnot my intention today.I got caught up in the moment. You can be quite charismatic Monsieur. Yes, that's the perfect word for you as far as I'm concerned."
I could see his eyebrow rise in surprise at my admission.
"Look, if you can no loner stand the sight of me in your house, tell me. I can find other viable means of survival. I am a savvy survivor no matter where I am, or when I am for that matter."
Erik walked to the piano, sat on the bench and lit some of the candles he favored so much. Soft notes drifted from the instrument as he depressed the ivory keys. He appeared to be mulling something over.
I felt beyond awkward simply standing mute in the middle of the music room. I turned to leave.
"Come here Gabrielle," this time it was spoken as a request, not a demand.
I approached the piano bench cautiously. He peered up at me quizzically, and then reached up to wipe something off of my face.
"Did you forget to remove all of your cleansing cream before bed Madame?"
"Huh? Oh that, Charlotte Russe. I motioned to the basket. I was having a late night snack when you scared the poodelie out of me."
"Walking and eating, so lady-like Gabrielle."
"Do not start with me Erik, charm school is closed for the night."
In that instant, an amazing thing happened to Erik, ever so slightly, at the corners of his lips I detected a genuine smile.
"Are we alright Erik?" I asked tentatively.
"Sweet Gabrielle, we are fine if you can ever forgive me for being a carnal beast this afternoon. I had not set out with designs on your womanhood, but the day was so sublime and your vigor and charm so intoxicating that I forgot myself. It's been years since Erik allowed himself the luxury of passion. It has stayed locked it up in the attic of my memory, that is, until you appeared in my cellar and came here to serve me."
"Then the sleeping beast awoke."
Silence claimed him once more as Erik picked up a crystal scorpion that held down a stack of music on the piano. He began rubbing the object's smooth edges between his fingers.
"Can you ever forgive me for violating your trust and your virtue Gabrielle? I am most ashamed of not controlling my urges."
He slammed the scorpion back on top of the scores and lowered his head into his hands.
"Why do I murder all that is good? The only woman I ever allowed into my heart charged me with that very crime years ago."
He looked at me with tears in his eyes. "Why, what is wrong with me Gabrielle?"
I hurried around to the open side of the piano bench and sat next to him. "Hey Erik, you don't murder all that's good and you are not a monster—got it?" I put one arm around him and stroked his hair.
"Look at me."
"I cannot."
"Why not? I'm not going to bite you Erik, you do lots of good stuff, like taking in my sorry ass, you employ those two old codgers who are nearly too ancient to wiggle. People clamor to have your firm design their buildings, plus you can paint, sculpt, and work magic. Don't get me started on your kickin' music and your voice; well it's nearly better than…never mind. See, if you just sang to me, who knows where it would get you."
This remark earned me a steely glare.
"Levity Erik, levity."
He nodded and relaxed.
I started to play a simple child's tune on the piano.
"In six months, I've never thought to ask, do you play Gabrielle?"
"Heavens no, I learned some simple songs by ear. Chopsticks, Heart and Soul, a song from 1970 called Color My World, and the theme from Sponge Bob Square Pants; that's a child's cartoon comic show. But my Dad taught me how to play guitar a little. I'm not great, but I do ok. I sure do miss my acoustic Martin. I play mostly what you would call folk songs or ballads; you've heard some of the type on my IPOD. Jewell, Sarah McLachlan, Sheryl Crow, Beatles and angsty acoustic stuff if I'm in a good bleak mood. That's really all my voice is up to. Sorry, no opera diva here.
Yarf, did I actually say that to him?
He eyed me warily.
"That's what all female singers aspire to be today isn't it?" I back peddled.
"Oh, yes, of course and ballerinas too."
"I yawned widely. I am so sorry. A tornado could hit this place right now and I wouldn't know about it I'm so flipping tired."
"Then go to bed young Gabrielle, you need your rest."
"And Gabrielle?"
"Yes Erik?"
"I am truly sorry."
"Me too."
"Good night my dear."
Whew, I thought as I mounted the stairs, another bullet dodged. Being bounced on my butt for the holidays was not a festive thought.
Christmas and a new year are coming. What new adventures are in store for our amusingly odd couple? Please keep reading and reviewing, especially the reviews even if it's a quickie. - Leesainthesky