Rose28
Erik envisioned a night of sleeping wrapped in each other's arms; soft breaths on his face, satiny skin against his, murmured words of affection throughout the night. He rose from the bed and brought Christine a glass of water and a washrag, which he'd read were the proper items to bring to a woman after a intimate encounter.
Once he returned to bed, Christine cuddled up close and kissed his lips. The world was at its finest.
A half-hour later of delusional perfection and he could no longer stand being forced to lie on his side. His back ached, his arm had fallen asleep beneath Christine, and her hair tickled his shoulder, which he couldn't scratch without disturbing her. Romantic bliss proved quite irritating and uncomfortable.
As to keep from disrupting their perfect love nest, Erik slowly attempted to remove his arm from under Christine, but his constant squirming caught her attention.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Then why are you moving?"
Erik frowned. "I apologize," he said, not looking her in the eye. "But I can't feel my arm and haven't felt my fingers in at least twenty minutes."
Christine immediately moved. "Good, because my shoulders are sore and I can't sleep on my back. I thought for certain we'd be trapped in this position all night."
Once they had arranged themselves, Christine placed her hand on Erik's chest, and he watched her eyes grow heavy.
"You look like a dream," he murmured as she drew circles up and down his midsection.
She gave him a lazy smile and kissed his shoulder as he smoothed her hair back from her forehead. It transfixed him, her lips against his flesh, and his breathing turned to soft moans. He couldn't decide if he wanted to keep his eyes open and watch, or close them and feel her tongue lave his neck, butterfly kisses up to his cheek until she found his mouth. An innocent touch turned to passion as she inched closer and draped her leg over his.
"Christine?" he questioned as she straddled his left leg.
"This night deserves repeating," she said between kisses.
Erik grabbed her hips, felt the smoothness and warmth of her thigh between his. He'd never experienced such sweet agony as he had with Christine positioned above him, her breasts against his chest, her hips close to his but not close enough. He wanted to grab hold of her shoulders and toss her on the bed, but it was too delicious of an opportunity to waste. More enticing than feeling her submit to his passion was to savor the hardened tips of her breasts drag against his flesh, to feel her writhe above him, her stomach brushing against his, the triangle of dark hair between her legs tempting and teasing his manhood.
Christine grabbed his wrists when he gripped her tighter. She brought one to her mouth and kissed the sensitive skin at the heel of his hand.
"Such skilled hands," she said as she pressed her lips to his fingertip, her tongue hot and inviting. Her lips parted and his finger slid past her teeth. He watched, barely able to breathe as she locked her eyes on his gaze and sucked his index finger.
"Wh-where have you learned such exquisite…ness?" he gasped.
Christine kissed his wrist again. "Your library contains Greenberg's 101 Seduction Techniques, and I found a rather dog-eared copy of The Absinthe Guide to Passion by Mad Liz—"
"You've been in my library?"
Christine raised a brow. "Why, yes."
Erik knew his eyes had glazed over. "Christine, I'm in love with you."
She smiled before she sank into his embrace and kissed him again. "I want to try page 128 of the Absinthe Guide."
"Page 128?" Erik questioned. He'd never made it past page seventy.
"Yes," she breathed in his ear. "The wild stable of monkeys."
Erik swallowed. "The wild…stable…of monkeys?"
"Yes, unless you think it's too soon?"
"I don't think it has ever been too soon to attempt a wild stable of monkeys," Erik said as he locked his arms around her.
Christine giggled. "No, I do suppose you're correct. We may have the time to try page page 22 of the Greenberg guide as well."
"What's page 22?"
Christine smiled seductively. "You'll see," she promised before she captured Erik's lips against hers.
-o-
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…aka…the Opera Populaire…
"Would you please stop attempting to molest me?" Raoul de Chagny bristled as a man with gold nipples brushed up against him for the umpteenth time. "I thought Hannibal was over!"
Firmin walked up in his hideous costume and clapped Raoul on the back. "It seems all the trouble with this Phantom is at an end. We should be able to enjoy the Bal without him causing any trouble."
Andre sidled up alongside Firmin. "We wouldn't have to fret over this if you'd invited him."
"Horsefeathers," Firmin raspberried. "Invite a murderous maniac?"
"Actually, he never murdered anyone. He nearly murdered La Carlotta with one of those canvas scenery apparatuses when our drunken crew was off stealing liquor from under our noses."
"That is the past!" Firmin responded. "I have given Madame Giry the only key to the wine cellar. She promised me that it was safely stored in her bosom."
The two stopped to reflect a moment before they sighed. As disgusting as it was to picture them dressed like barnyard animals and fantasizing about Madame, Raoul was at least hopeful that the rumors of Firmin and Andre sharing a bed were probably false.
"It's time to celebrate. Three months of relief," Andre sighed.
"And delight."
"No more notes."
"No more ghost. Isn't that so, Vicomte?"
Raoul yawned, thinking now was not the time to inform the opera house managers that he'd taken the liberty of adding Erik Lu'oar to the guest list.
"I'll be by the punch," he said before he walked off.
"Drink a toast!" Firmin shouted. "To your health!"
-o-
Fours hours later…In the Phantom's Lair…
"I think," Christine panted. "That I will die."
"Indeed," Erik sighed as they continued to pet one another.
"Of massive amounts," Christine sighed.
"Massive."
"Massive," Christine agreed. "Stable monkey sex."
"God bless the stable monkeys."
"Yes," Christine moved her hair away from her face. "I never would have taken you for the ticklish type."
"Nor you for the aggressor."
"Yes, well, the world of dance is an eat or be eaten world. One cannot be a wallflower or a doe-eyed innocent standing in the wings and expect greatness."
Erik nodded. "This was…"
"Perfect."
"And slightly frightening."
Christine rested her chin on Erik's chest. "Only because you were holding the book upside down."
Erik laid his head back and closed his eyes. "Now what, Christine? Anywhere you go…"
"What time is it?" she questioned, thinking it would be nice to have an hour or two of rest before the celebration.
"I would rather not move."
Christine took it upon herself to look for his pocket watch, and once she discovered the time, she grabbed Erik by the arm and attempted to yank him from the bed.
"It started a half-hour ago!" she gasped.
"Well…"
"No 'well'. You must dress, I must return to my room and fix my hair. Oh, I don't want to know how my hair looks! But I must dress. Where should we meet? Inside? Yes, that's perfect. I'll meet you on the stairs. Oh, I knew those monkeys were trouble!" she said before she took off with Erik struggling to button his pants and follow her.
