Erik sat on the bed; jacket removed but wrapped in his dressing robe for additional warmth as Matilda lay bundled in blankets beside him. She grabbed at his hand every time he brought it close.

"Ba..ba…" She squealed a smile on her face.

"So close," he tickled her sides, leaning in and kissing her face. "It's Dada!"

Matilda laughed grabbing her dad's cheeks, "Baba! Baba!"

The Phantom lifted his face from his daughter when he heard a sob from behind the water closet door. "Angel, is everything well?" He stood up, took the now excited baby with him, "You've been in there for quite some time and Matilda needs her bath." He knocked on the door and Matilda mimicked him, patting her open hand on it. "We're coming in."

Erik opened the door to the sight of his wife sitting in the bathtub shivering in water she had let go cold. Her toes and fingers were turning purple and shriveled. "What the Devil, Christine?" In one swoop, Matilda still in his arms, he pulled the plug.

"No Erik!" She reached and put the plug back in. "I need to keep bathing! I am a filthy, wanton woman!"

"You're going to get ill, sitting in that cold water!" he pulled the plug out again and turned and looked at her. Her lips crusty and purple, her blue eyes wild and wide.

He stormed out of the water closet and their bedroom, "Gustave! Gustave!"

Christine sat still on the cold porcelain and listened as she watched the water drain.

"What, father?"

"Put your sister to bed, your mother is not feeling well; I need to help her!"

Before she was aware enough to protest, her Angel of Music lifted her out of the tub, wrapped in her dressing robe then blankets and was holding her in his arms in front of recently rekindled fireplace. He sung softly in her ear until he felt the tension melt away in her body and the trembles of her shivers stop.

"What is this absurdity you speak of, Angel?" he whispered. "That you are a filthy, wanton woman? Where did you get such ideas?"

"The doctor today. He tried to treat me for hysteria and when I told him only my husband touches me like that, he informed I was clearly a wanton woman enjoying in engaging in the pleasure of the flesh so much. And a husband doesn't want a wife like that."

His brow furrowed as he took this all in, "He tried to treat you for hysteria?!"

"Yes."

"The Bastard!" The Phantom lifted one of his hands and a fist slammed into the Persian rug. "How dare he touch you like that!"

She turned to face him and pulled on the lapels of his dressing robe, "Oh Erik, we always tease I am a wanton woman but I didn't know it was a real medical condition!"

"That's because it isn't!" He hit the floor again with his hand. "There is nothing filthy or vile about the joys of the flesh. Only these Puritan views of what women are allowed to enjoy. In my travels to the East women were encouraged and expected to enjoy coupling just as much as men. Why would a man keep concubines if he could not please them? And have you so quickly forgot about the Kama Sutra? It's more than just illustrations of exciting positions to try. There are sections that stress pleasuring one's wife."

"Though speaking of those concubines, doesn't the Kama Sutra mention how a man is allowed to keep those as well?" Christine rested her head on his chest as she looked up and smiled at her husband.

"I didn't say we have to embrace all their ideas. I am quite content pleasuring my wife and trying new positions with her," Erik rubbed her cheek. "I do not know what I would do if my Christine did not enjoy fucking as much as me."

The Soprano gasped and lightly slapped his deformed cheek, "Language, Mr. Y!"

He grabbed her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers, "I see they are returning to normal. How about your toes?"

She held her foot up, it mostly in shadow since it was in front of the fire and spread her toes.

He adjusted the blanket tighter around her, "You are to never see that bastard of a doctor again! I do not care how much praise Daisy gave him! Were I still indulging in other activities he just might find himself on the wrong end of a lasso! Perhaps I should just once."

Christine frowned.

"I jest," He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Are you feeling warmer? And are you feeling more like the wonderful wanton woman you are? I hope so because that's the woman this husband wants."

The Soprano gave a slight giggle.

"Do you want to get dressed while I get some fresh blankets and turn the gas heater up?"

Christine turned around to face the fire, snuggling herself tighter into her husband's arms, "There is no hurry."