"I can see the reviews already!" Henry E. Abbey popped the cork on the champagne bottle. "Daae steals show in Met debut as Queen of Night!" He poured two glasses before handing one to the diva. He held his up, "To the return of your career!"
Christine gently tapped his glass with her own, "Thank you, Mr. Abbey but I do believe you are being far too generous."
He swigged the alcohol down in one gulp before perching himself on the edge of the vanity in Christine's dressing room, "It's Henry. And you, my Swedish Belle, are being far too modest. I thought that Angel of Music of yours instilled some confidence with that voice."
A smiled curled up on her lips as she took a sip of her drink, "He did, I just did not expect this after everything that has happened in my life."
"Well, in that case, I am not being generous. If I did not believe this was the return of your career, I would not be back here celebrating with you. If I knew I could make you a star here at the Met I would not have fought to make you Queen of the Night."
"I cannot thank you enough. It has been a wonderful role, so fulfilling and has challenged me in ways I have never been," She adjusted the bodice of her costume before finishing her drink.
"You deserve it," Henry refilled her glass and then his. He tilted his head and smiled at her. "Such a shame your bastard first husband kept you locked away. Your name should have been plastered all over Europe and America by now."
The Soprano felt her cheeks flush under his gaze and words so she looked away.
He finished his drink before standing back up, "Between Mr. Y and me, we'll get you back on track. Speaking of which, I haven't seen him at all backstage. I would have thought he'd be the first at your door."
"He's probably lurking in the shadows, waiting until everyone else is finished," Christine lifted a washcloth and dipped it into her container of cold cream.
Mr. Abbey chuckled, "Ah yes! Lurking in an opera house; that was his specialty, correct?" He sat his glass down. "I should let you change and clean up. Remember we have supper reservations and I hope you both will join us; if he appears from the shadows."
When the dressing room door closed, Christine turned her attention to her reflection and went to work removing the heavy stage make up. A loud thump caused her to jump from her seat and gasp.
"Henry?" She exclaimed. "Did you forget to tell me something? The door is still unlocked."
"Not anymore."
She spun on her stool just in time to see The Phantom of the Opera locking the door. She let out a sigh, "Where have you been?"
"I may be a man with a well-established attraction and actually respected by certain people now, but that doesn't mean I still have a trick or two up my sleeve."
"You left before curtain call and were in my wardrobe, right?"
"Damn it, Christine! Can I not be enigmatic in an opera house again for one night?"
She giggled as she turned back around and finished removing her make up, "Every so often you're still good for a surprise, but I saw this coming. I appreciate the sentiment and wanting to recapture the magic of another time in our relationship."
The Angel of Music walked up behind his wife and removed the bobby pins that held her wig in place, "So do I need to work on boosting your confidence again? Or should I just let Henry do that?"
"Well he did bring me a bottle of champagne. What did you bring me to celebrate my Met debut?" She smiled at her husband's reflection and she removed her wig and sat it on the mannequin head. "You haven't even told me what you thought?"
"I share Mr. Abbey's sentiment that you stole the show," He bent down and leaned in so his lips were on her ear. "However, to say this is the return of your career is an insult to everything you have done since you arrived to America."
"Hmm…" The Diva leaned back against her husband, "Queer how everything I've performed since arriving to America has been written by you. I believe it is you who is slightly wounded. That is what you get for hiding in wardrobes."
"Is that so?" Grabbing her waist, he pulled the stool away from the vanity.
"Erik!" Christine exclaimed.
He gently got onto his knees in front of her and removed his mask, "And what shall I get hiding under the skirts of your costume?" Pulling up the layers of fabric, The Phantom crawled under.
"Erik, no!" Christine giggled. "Not the costume!"
"Do you buy yourself new pantalettes for the opening of every show? I like the pink ribbons on these."
"Erik!" She pulled the skirts up higher, exposing two sets of legs. The soft touch of bloated lips on her exposed inner thigh caused her to whimper.
"There it is, Angel," He spoke between kisses. "That's what I get; what no else does. I have the honor of hearing both your songs." Hands gently caressing the sides of her rump through those pristine new pantalettes, he assisted his wife in shifting to the edge of the stool, spreading her legs wider. His tongue found the split in the gusset and licked her womanhood.
"Erik!" She gasped squeezing her thighs around his head.
"So you trap me here; like the wanton woman you are!" The words escaped muffled as he caressed the soft cotton wrapping her bum.
"You know I'm not wanton!" her words airy as The Phantom's lips deepened their kisses. "We don't have…time…" Her thighs relaxed. "Henry has supper…supper…reservations…"
Through his wig, he felt the sensation of her nails digging in, tilting his head just slightly up and pushing him forward. "Yes...yes! There, Angel! There!" Christine tilted her head back, whimpered and moaned as the throes of her pleasure intensified.
The Phantom grinned against her womanhood. Why yes, I still do have a trick or two up my sleeve.