Christine stood in front of her bedroom mirror after Erik bid her goodnight and retired to his adjoined room. She thought she looked awful with her bruised and scabbed lip and the bandages on her arms. She was grateful that the doctor told her she could remove them in just a few days. The single stitch in her palm pulled painfully when she flexed her hand experimentally. It hurt and felt strange and even itched a little. She was going to be very glad to have that gone.
Tonight for the first time in her life, she felt like more than the shrinking timid little ballerina. Erik had taught her what no other man would have. Once again she was grateful for the level of trust and understanding between them in their unconventional relationship. Any other man would have patronized her for wanting to defend herself and insist upon ridiculous chivalry in protecting her themselves. Erik saw the necessity of it and his idea was only enhanced by the added threat of attention drawn by his mask and deformities. When Erik had shown her all he could teach about self defense and using a knife to fight, she would be a victim never again.
She smiled to herself wickedly, liking the idea of herself as threatening more and more. She would never be a statistic in the countless reports and rumors of young women being victimized. The dim candlelight flickered over her face, casting shadows of herself about the room. She saw herself differently now. She stood tall, but not proudly or arrogantly, simply self assured. She bent her knees to a slight crouch and loosened her shoulders. As quick as she was able, she reached past her sleeve and ran her nail over the catch of the sheath and in one swift movement, drew the knife out into her hand, flicking it around to be held how Erik showed her.
"Not bad," she commented to herself. She knew she would have to practice if she was going to take anybody by surprise, but she knew that her skill would only get better with time.
She changed into her nightgown; her bandages glowed in the candlelight in the otherwise dark room. After a thought, she placed the knife on the bedside table. Exhausted she fell asleep feeling so much safer than she had before.
The next morning, Erik knocked early and startled her awake. She had been dreaming again. Her first dream that night had caused her to wake in a fit of shaking and she gripped the knife tightly to herself before she could fall back asleep. Upon hearing the tap on her door, she sat up fast in her bed, alarmed to find herself safe in her own bed. As confident as she was becoming since their lesson the previous evening, she knew she was probably going to have nightmares for some time to come. After her father's death she had them nightly for a year. She groaned and prayed she would not relive such a long period of sleepless nights again.
"Christine?" Erik called softly through the door. "Are you alright this morning?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she replied through a yawn. "I'll be downstairs momentarily."
"I just wanted to tell you to wear something lightweight today. It's not warm outside but I don't want you to be too hot," came his reply.
Oh yes, Christine recalled. Erik said he was going to teach her to use the knife properly. She looked around her bed for where it had gone. After tossing the sheets around, she stood back and laughed at herself as she found it lying underneath her pillow. She had always thought the old ladies who slept with a knife under their pillows were crazy, but now she understood why.
"I suppose you can stay there if it's where you want to be," she said to the object in her hand.
Marie seemed to think that feeding them an exorbitant amount of food would somehow make up for the horrible circumstances of the previous day. Erik was tempted to hide half of what she served in his napkin to avoid overeating. He politely asked her to wrap up a picnic basket for them since they would not be returning until later that afternoon.
They went around to the stables and Christine saw that two horses had already been groomed and saddled and were waiting for them.
"Are we going far today?"
Erik helped her mount the gelding, patting its neck and handing her the reins, then stepped into the stirrups of his the mare he had ridden to her rescue.
"We need somewhere to practice without prying eyes. I do not wish for any interruptions since I will be teaching you some difficult moves."
Christine nodded her head and Erik spurred the horse into a trot. She led her horse behind his, letting the reins fall slack as her mount saw fit to follow Erik's mare. They passed through town and headed south.
"This road looks all too familiar," Christine said slyly as she pulled up next to Erik after they passed the last little house at the edge of town.
"I don't know this countryside very well, but I do know of one place we won't be bothered."
Christine knew they were headed for the old church where they had spent that cold wet night. "The church? Why not just head out into that field over there?" she gestured to their right past a copse of trees.
"What we will be doing may be physically demanding and unless you would rather sweat under the sun, I think it would be better to have some sort of shelter over our heads," Erik replied.
Christine thought about that then agreed, "I think you have a point." She was thinking back to that night she spent shivering in his arms on the floor of that abandoned place of worship. It seemed like years ago to her.
They rode along at a good pace for quite awhile. It did not take them as long as she thought to reach the church, mainly because it had taken them so long to fight the awful conditions of the road on their return from that night. Erik helped her dismount, then led the horses over to the side of the church and removed their bits to allow them to graze while they worked inside.
Erik pushed the church door open, scaring a few birds that flew out of the hole in the rooftop. Feathers and dust blew up from the rafters. Christine stepped past him into the room, smelling the familiar must of mold and aged wood. She saw her ruined dress lying in the heap where she left it. No doubt it had become a suitable home for some mice or other little critters. She paced over to it and lifted it from the dirty floor, remembering how Erik had removed it from her body.
Suddenly his heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder and she shrieked loudly, dropping the garment and automatically leaping forward.
"Erik what are you doing?" she demanded loudly.
"Attacking you," he replied nonchalantly. "You were supposed to elbow my sternum, remember?"
"You scared me to death!" she shrieked at him.
"How else did you expect to learn to react reflexively?" he questioned.
Christine responded with, "My reflexes tell me to jump and scream, not lash out!"
Erik stepped back and replied, "Reflex's can be learned. Your instinct tells your body to flee, which is always your best option, but what if I was not alone? Would you have known it before you turned around?"
Christine stood silent.
"The purpose of training in self defense is to mold your reflexes into something other than your first automatic response," he explained. Erik sighed, "I promise I will not do that to you again, but you need to be aware of your surroundings, even when you assume you are alone or only with me."
"Fine," she said, a little acid in her tone.
Erik ignored her smart remark. He stood before her and explained, "This first lesson, I will not be armed. I want you to draw your blade when you hear me come up behind you; pretend I am someone you don't know who has approached you alone on a dark street."
Christine turned around and waited. She heard nothing from Erik, not even his breathing. The apprehension grew, not knowing when he might spring. She slowed her breathing, listening carefully for any sound. The anxiety of waiting grew on her and her palms started to sweat. She crossed her arms in front of her, secretly sliding her finger up her sleeve, ready to draw.
Suddenly she heard a small noise from behind her and as quickly as she could, drew the blade and held it tightly as she turned to face her attacker!
There was nobody there. Erik was not in the room anymore.
"Erik?" she called out. She paused, hearing nothing. How could he have vanished without her hearing him? She cautiously tip toed to the front door that had been left slightly ajar. Her senses were peaked as she listened for any sound that might herald his presence. She heard a few birds chirping in the distance and the slight rustling of grass, she heard the horse's teeth grinding on grass not too far away. As she stepped out the door, Erik suddenly sprang out from behind her! She slashed blindly towards him as she spun around to face him and felt the blade skim across a plank of wood he held in front of himself.
"Good," he praised. "Although next time, keep your feet closer together, like a pirouette."
"I thought you said you wouldn't do that to me again!" Christine shouted angrily.
Erik said, "I should have specified. My apologies. I should have said I would not grab you again when you were not prepared for it."
Christine seethed and breathed loudly through her nose. "I thought you were going to teach me, not scare me half to death!"
Erik sighed, "How else do you expect to learn to trust your senses? Do you think your opponent is going to come waltzing up and introduce themselves before pushing you to the ground?"
Christine didn't want to admit he was right. It just irritated her that he seemed so amused by scaring her like that. "Will you please just show me how to handle the knife and then you can try something like that again? How am I to defend myself if I don't know how?"
"Fair enough," Erik told her. "Come over here then, and I will show you how to move your feet to avoid falling off balance. First we need to get your body used to moving in a certain way. It's not that different from dancing, as I mentioned last night, so it shouldn't be too difficult for you to pick up."
Christine was a little annoyed with him, but after a few minutes of instruction, she realized he was going over a familiar dance step routine. "I recognize this!" she exclaimed.
"Like I said, it's as simple as a dance. Now I need to show you how to properly swing the blade out to cause effective wounds." He went through many movements with her, sometimes standing behind her to guide her hand in the right motion, making her repeat them over and over again until the movement was second nature to her. He showed her technique and stance, moving through more and more difficult maneuvers that involved turning and changing hands with the blade. Two hours passed and Christine finally begged respite. They were both sweating a little and Erik had removed his mask at her insistence. He wiped his face onto his sleeve and told her he would be right back.
Christine stood by and waited, but was puzzled when he stepped outside and then returned a few moments later carrying something. Her jaw dropped in horror when she saw him draw out an angry looking knife of his own.
"Cutting someone unarmed is easily done, but the real trick is to defend yourself against someone else with the same weapon." He threw the sheath over onto a collapsed pew bench with a soft clatter. His body suddenly took on a different stance. His posture changed as he crouched slightly, he grasped the knife in his right hand, just as he had shown her. He grinned devilishly as he twirled the blade handle in his hand, flicking the steel point out toward her and back in, then tossed it up into the air and caught it by the sharp end and flipped it once more so the handle rest in his palm. He tossed it back and forth between his two hands expertly. He looked very dangerous and his movements were cat like in their speed and fluidity. She found it immensely appealing.
"Showing off?" she said, as she tried to mimic his stance.
"Yes, but that's the point. If you were someone looking for trouble, you would think twice about bothering me, wouldn't you?" Erik purred.
"Only if I wished to bleed to death," Christine teased.
Erik chuckled. "Attack, if you can," he taunted her, still twirling his blade.
She circled him, keeping her feet wide and her side to him. She paced one way then the next, and then lunged forward with her blade arm, striking upward fluidly. She felt her knife glance off his with a metallic scrape as she spun then countered his strike with a defensive block. He kept his moves methodical and graceful, but allowed her to strike with her full force to get the feel of it. She being a beginner was easy for him to predict her attacks and thoroughly enjoyed watching her smooth elegant dance around him. They mirrored each other's action with a countering reaction of rhythmical pushes and pulls.
In minutes they were both breathing hard. Christine delivered one final strike from down below, bringing her blade up as though to slice upwards across his face. He caught her knife's edge with his own and followed it up, then twisted his hands to knock the handle from her grasp. Then he clutched her hands and held them as the shocked look came over her face at being disarmed. He smiled and without another thought, brought his lips to hers as he traced his hands down her arms to draw her in. She broke the kiss only to gasp for breath then pulled him closer for a deeper kiss, letting her tongue explore his mouth as she pressed harder against him.
The sudden inertia of her kiss only served to drive him on. He held her tightly to his chest, tossing his knife to the side. His tongue lashed hers with a ferocity he had never felt before. Seeing her dance around him so strong and sure of herself aroused him in ways he had not expected. He pressed her soft breasts against his chest, feeling his heart beat even faster than before in the excitement of their play fight. He pushed her back until she was pressed against the church door. She squinted the sunlight out of her eyes as she opened them in surprise as her back made contact with the solid barrier. Erik's eyes were closed, his brow down in the concentrated pleasure of kissing her. Her eyes closed again and she surrendered to the movement of his lips and tongue against hers.
Christine sucked in her breath as Erik's mouth left hers and he stooped to press a wet kiss to her neck. His hands were suddenly pulling her waist close to his and she felt the firmness of his hips against her own. He sucked and flicked his tongue against her neck making her head reel. He tasted the salt of her skin and smelled her perfume strongly in his nose as he buried his face against her shoulder. He paused in his ravaging kiss and took a daring breath, then slowed his pace and slid his hand up to cup her breast, breathing heavily against her skin.
Christine's breath caught in her throat when she felt his hand caress her through the thin dress. She felt lightheaded and dizzy and held onto his neck for support.
"Oh Erik," she moaned wantonly.
"Christine," he breathed against her mouth as he kissed her again. The sound of her voice saying his name like that drove him out of his mind. The random thought crossed his mind that they really should not be kissing like that in a church. He didn't care. If going to hell was the price for this pleasure, he would gladly pay it. He brushed his thumb across her nipple sending a shockwave up her spine. Christine arced her back away from the sensation of it, then melted against him once more, pleading for more with a whimper.
He took her reaction as permission to go further. His mouth kissed its way down her chest until it met his fingertips. He hesitated, reading her body language until all signs pointed for him to continue. He briefly thanked god she wasn't wearing a corset over her lightweight chemise under her dress as his mouth covered her upturned breast where it rested in his hand. She whimpered and pressed her hands into his hair, feeling the warmth of his mouth on her bosom. He nuzzled it there, feeling the hardness of her nipple through the flimsy fabric against his tongue. Her body jerked against his as he flicked it lightly.
It wasn't enough. He suddenly had to know what it tasted like to have her breast in his mouth. He reluctantly removed his lips from her, causing her to give a small cry of disappointment, and with both hands, quickly began unbuttoning her dress pushing the cloth aside to reveal her pale skin in the sunlight. His fingertips slowed the further he advanced down her center. He gradually unbuttoned her dress almost to her waist, then he leaned back as he slid the pale clothing out of the way. The darker flesh of her nipples stood out beneath the flimsy undergarment, one more boldly than the other due to the moisture from his kiss. With a leisurely pace, he pulled the ties undone at the front until the white ribbons were loose enough to push to the side.
Christine just stood before him, needing the wall for support as she watched him unwrap her. She knew she should stop him, but the need to feel his mouth on her again overrode the thought. If his mouth could create such pleasure through her clothing, she couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have his soft wet tongue caress her virginal flesh.
Erik dared to take his eyes off what he was doing for one single moment to look up into her face, catching her eyes. He saw the want in them and that was all the consent he needed. He slid his warm hands underneath her chemise and parted the material to reveal her pale chest. He gazed at them, memorizing the moment, then bent his head down to claim his prize between his lips.
The pleasure rang through Christine's body as she had never felt it before. She clung to him desperately wanting more of the sensation he was causing. He licked her hungrily, devouring her taste in a mindless frenzy, wishing he had two mouths so he could experience both teats at once. Her skin was salty from their exertions, but she smelled sweet and delectable to his senses. His manhood pressed painfully against his trousers, throbbing there with need. Unable to help himself, he slid a strong hand down to the crook between her legs to feel beneath the layers of clothing her most intimate place. A ragged breath escaped Christine's lips at his touch.
"Wait!" Christine breathed as she clutched him.
"Why?" he rasped intensely, wanting to continue.
"Not like this," she pleaded reluctantly.
Erik groaned a deep guttural protest and paused in his pleasure seeking. He fought his every instinct to continue. His lips were swollen and he stared at her wet breasts beneath his mouth causing his body to twitch with desire.
"Please," he pleaded, ashamed to do so. "I want you so badly," he admitted as he kissed her mouth once more.
"Not like this," she repeated, unable to think of any other words to form a protest. She saw the torment in his eyes and it mirrored her own. She wanted him, there was no denying it and now there was no hiding it either.
He gave one last shuddering moan against her lips then closed her dress front with a reluctance he could scarcely bear and fiercely whispered into her ear, "Sweet Jesus, you will be the death of me I swear it."
Christine clung to him and replied, "I certainly hope not."
