Chapter 5

Sunlight hit her eyelids, forcing her to wake up. She turned her head away from the light and buried her head into the pillow. She paused. The pillow didn't smell like hers. She caught a whiff of sandalwood and…and…she smelled the pillow again…ink. She opened her eyes and found herself in an unfamiliar room by herself. That was then that she remembered what happened the night before. She smiled and bit her lower lip, suddenly feeling giddy like a schoolgirl. She sat up and, holding the sheets to her body, glanced around the room.

The bedroom was spacious, but didn't carry many sentimental items. There was the typical desk, bed, dresser, armoire, and changing screen. There as an open door leading to a washroom. The biggest thing that stood out in the room was the large golden-framed mirror. Next to the bed was a nightstand with a lamp, a book on the French Revolution, and a folded paper note. Written in a childish handwriting was her name. She reached for the note and opened it.

Carlynda,

I am sorry to leave you so soon, but I must tend to business. Please feel free to use any of the accommodations, such as the washroom. You may leave through the door leading into my office. You won't be interrupting anything of importance.

Thank you, my dear, for your precious gift last night.

E.

"Erik," she whispered to herself. Erik Geroux. He told her his name. Did that mean she should address him with it or would it still be M. Geroux? In the privacy of her mind, she would call him Erik.

She smiled and settled back down on the pillow. Last night was wonderful and warm. She didn't have any bad dreams and Erik was a wonderful lover. He didn't seem like he didn't know what he was doing. No, as a matter of fact, he knew exactly what he was doing last night. How could she possibly believe he never done that before? It was too magical. The strange thing was, last night wasn't gentle, it was rough and almost desperate, but it had felt so marvelous and satisfying despite that. What she had experienced in the past was rough, but it wasn't the warm wonderful kind. It was just simply rough and she got no pleasure from it. Last night Erik made sure to give pleasure as much as she.

She narrowed her eyes in thought. Although, there was something on his face. She remembered something scraping her once and awhile and when she reached up to touch, he had stopped her and quickly distracted her with his kisses. Was he wearing a mask? It was none of her business if he was. She was his lover, not his love. There was a difference.

She got out of bed and quickly wrapped her chilled body in the blankets before heading towards the washroom. Erik had been kind enough to have readied a bath for her. She almost squealed with childish delight when she saw rose petals floating in the warm water. Their fragrance tickled her nose. He must have been very pleased with last night to go into such romantic gestures.

After the rather relaxing bath, she changed back into her light green gown before making her way to the door. His note said she wouldn't be interrupting anything of importance if she just walked in, but she wasn't sure. Maybe something came up. She placed her ear at the door, but heard nothing.

Carlynda took the risk to open the door. The office was not as dark as last evening. The curtains on both of the windows were opened, letting in more light. There was no one in the room. She took this chance to glance around. His desk was a dark wood, the top void of any mess. There was a neat stack of papers in one corner, a bottle of black and red ink, and a quill. There was nothing else present. The rest of the office was just as empty. He had a couch between the two windows and several chairs stacked in the far corner. It didn't seem like he expected much company ever. She wasn't all that surprised. He wasn't very social. She left the office and went to her bakery.


Her mind wondered often to the night before as she prepared pasties and orders. Several of her usual customers had commented on her 'fresh' look and her wide sparkling smile. Then they would chuckle at her faint blush that rose. She hadn't felt this good in years and was surprise just how well the comfort thing she had with Erik worked. There was an extra hop in her steps as one of her usual customers had noted.

That night, as she closed up, she wondered if she should go visit Erik again. Would it be too eager of her? Did she even want to do it again? Carlynda paused in her task of locking the door as the thought hit her. Did she want to do it again? She slowly turned the key and locked the door. 'Yes,' she thought. She wouldn't mind doing it at all. Last night was so different than what she was used to. It was magical while before it was painful. The question was; did he want to do it again? What if she read too much into his romantic gesture? What if he didn't like it? He never said, not even in the note he left her.

Carlynda stood by her locked door with doubts and uncertainties. Was he expecting her or not? She bit her lip in indecision.

She didn't stop this time, knowing exactly where Erik's office was located. She found herself as nervous as last night, though for a different reason. Last night she knew she was wanted, tonight she did not.


She made it to Erik's office without being stopped and after taking a few deep breaths, knocked.

"Enter," Erik's voice snapped impatiently.

Carlynda hesitated, wondering if she would improve or worsen his mood. There was only one way to find out. She opened the door and entered. "Monsieur?"

"Carlynda." His tone of voice immediately changed. It hitched upwards slightly in surprise. "You…you're later than usually. I didn't think you'll come."

She closed the door behind her. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to come," she admitted quietly. She clinched her hands in front of her and waited, biting her lower lip.

He stood up, his chair falling to the ground behind him. "Not wanted you? Last night was…" He stopped as if he couldn't think of the right word to use.

"Magical?" she added.

"Yes. I was hoping it wouldn't become a onetime thing."

She smiled and glanced at the ground bashfully. "I was hoping for that too. It felt nice, being needed and it did work in relaxing me and it gave me a great deal of comfort."

"Yes, I feel the same."

There was a moment of awkward silence where neither one of them knew what to say or do next. Finally, Erik spoke up. "Well, I have a few more things to do, if you don't mind waiting."

"No, no, I don't mind," she quickly reassured.

"Come. I'll lead you back to my room. You may wait there. I shouldn't be much longer."

Trusting him, she walked away from the one source of light with her hand outstretched, waiting for him to take it before she stumbled into anything.

He closed his hand around hers. Once again, he was not wearing his gloves and his hand was as cool as last night. He led her back to his bedroom door. "I will only be but a minute, my dear."

"Is everything alright?"

They paused at the threshold of the bedroom, his hand on her lower back to lead her in. "Pardon?"

She searched for his eyes in the darkness, but wasn't surprised when she couldn't find them. It was much too dark in the back of the office, away from the window. "Earlier, you seemed aggravated."

There was a pause before he said gently, "You don't have to concern yourself with it, Carlynda. It is fine."

She sighed, half annoyed and half accepting of his answer. As a women in this modern time it was rare to find any man who would be willing to discuss business with a female. She should have known better than to expect an answer, yet she did expect one.

"However, if you wish to know," Erik started to say, as if reading her mind, "I already have a problem with a wondering-eyed stagehand. I have to decide when I should fire him."

"Talk to him before you decide," she suggested.

"Pardon?"

Carlynda glanced down with her face turning pink in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I know it isn't my place…"

"Please, my dear, feel free to speak your mind."

"I was just thinking," she began to say hesitantly, "maybe if you speak to this stagehand first, give him his options. Let him know there will be severe consequences if he does it again. Maybe all he needs is a stern warning. Yes, that's how I will phrase it. Give him a warning before you fire him. Let him know that he will only get that one warning. I would hate for him to get fired if all he needed was to know it's against the rules here."

She didn't flinched when his hand cup her cheek. His thumb caressed her just below the eye. "Perhaps, I'll do just that. My voice of reason, that's what you are," he said softly.

His lips were suddenly on hers and she was pushed back against the doorframe, his hands cupping her cheeks. His body was pressed against hers so tightly, she could feel his need for her. She reached out and grasped his shirt. Her eyes flittered closed as she tilted her head up for a different angle. His tongue entered her mouth and battled hers for dominance. It was a fight she playfully participated in. He pushed her legs aside with his hip and settled between them. She moaned into his mouth and moved her hands to his shoulders.

His lips left hers, only to move down her cheeks and to her neck. She tilted her head away to give him better access. He moved back up to nibble at her earlobes. "My dear," he breathed out in a husky voice, "I still have work to do and if we don't stop now I'll take you right here against the doorframe."

With her breath coming out as pants, she managed to say with a smile, "I don't mind."

His breath fluttered across her cheek as he let out a chuckle. "Of course you wouldn't and neither would I, but I still have work to do." He stepped back from her. "I'll return soon…very soon," he said in a low voice that whispered promises.


The next morning she woke feeling refreshed, but, once again, alone in bed. On the stand was a delicate, fully bloomed rose with a black ribbon wrapped around it and a note. She picked up the rose and smelled it, her cheeks hurting from the smile that just wouldn't leave. Then, she read the short note.

Carlynda,

Until tonight

E.

She already couldn't wait for tonight. Last night, in the aftermath of their activities, he had asked her to return the next night. She had, of course, readily agreed. His short note seemed to be filled with promises of later.

Carlynda got out of bed, bathed and changed before heading off to her day at the bakery.


The next several weeks followed the same routine. She would go to work until closing, then head to the Opera House and into Erik's willing arms. In the morning, she would find herself alone in bed, but Erik would always leave some trinket for her: a note, a box of chocolates, a rose, a breakfast tray. She would bath and change there before heading back to work.

She barely ever saw Madame Giry anymore, causing much suspicion. Carlynda didn't mind. She had never felt better. Only on Sundays, the only day her bakery wasn't opened, would she see Madame Giry. She, however, saw Meg once and awhile at the opera house, since the younger girl spent all of her time there. Not to say she didn't return home for a visit with her mother, but Carlynda was usually with Erik on those days or at her bakery. She would sometimes visit Meg before going to Erik or before heading off to work.

Carlynda and Erik had gotten into a habit of talking before they 'retired' for the night. Erik started discussing his day at the opera house, the same Carlynda did with her bakery. They helped each other out with problems and gave each other advice.

Almost two months passed before there was any interruption in their lives. Carlynda had closed her shop an hour early due to a very slow day, then headed straight to the opera house. She had come to be a very familiar face there. She had no doubt people were whispering about her relationship with their employer. Although it did annoy her a great deal, she didn't stop seeing Erik. Her days since that first night in his arms were lightened and she felt more at eased than ever before. She was determined not to let anyone tell her how to live her life ever again.

She made it to Erik's office door, but loud voices inside stopped her from knocking. She couldn't hear what was being spoken, but she recognized Erik's voice as he snapped at his visitor. Curiously, she put her ear to the door. The voices was still too muffled for her to catch any words. Realizing Erik was in a terrible mood, she knocked. It was best to interrupt before he said or did something he would later regret.

There was a moment of quiet after she knocked before Erik snapped for her to enter. She entered. As usual, the window closest to the door was the only light source. The side of the office with Erik's desk and the door to his bedroom remained in darkness. Standing closest to her was a tall, skinny man wearing a fashionable suit. He was tightly holding his top hat in front of him. His brown hair was lying flat on his top of his head, like a wet mop. He was a twitchy man.

She heard Erik sigh, a sign that he was letting out some of his frustration. "Carlynda, you're early."

She glanced away from the strange man to locate Erik's silhouette figure. He appeared to be standing on the other side of his desk. "I'm sorry, monsieur. I could wait if you're still busy."

"No, no, mademoiselle. If that is all, Jules," he said addressing the other man, his tone hardening.

The man gave a jerky nod. "Um, yes, yes, sir." He backed away before turning to leave the room.

Carlynda stepped aside to let him pass and waited to hear the click of the door before speaking. "Is everything alright, Erik?" She took off her rich green cloak, a recent gift from Erik as the weather was getting colder, and hung it on the rack. She stepped into the shadows, unafraid. The only time when dark didn't scare her was when she was with Erik, knowing he was there to grab her hand, just like he did now. He led her over to the seat beside him.

"No," he finally answered as he sat her down.

She reached out and felt the strong, tense muscle of his arms. She squeezed to offer him comfort. "What is wrong?"

His hand grasped hers and gave a gentle squeeze in return. "That was Jules Bernard."

"Your financial assistant?"

"Yes. He found someone to become our patron. He is going to be here the day after tomorrow to meet me, bright and early in the morning."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

He suddenly stood up and Carlynda leaned back in surprised. "Good thing? Ha, that's a laugh." She felt the air shift around her as he began pacing. "Patrons don't care about the arts," he spat. "They just want an excuse to show off their money! They are a nuisance. They just come to visit the opera house whenever they want to gaze disgustingly at the women in the chorus. I will not have that in this opera house! Patrons are the rich and wealthy, the entitled. They believe themselves above everyone. They would believe themselves to be in control of what goes on here, just because their can hold money over my head! A patron would think he has the right to speak to me directly, see me face to face. He would think himself too high and mighty to deal with Jules Bernard. He would not be happy when I want to meet him in the dark. He would be a silly fop." He stopped beside her chair, his hand resting on the back, right by her head. She could feel his body heat close. "No, no, my dear. Patrons are nothing but trouble."

She reached up and placed her hand on his much cooler one. Just that move alone seemed to suck the frustration out of him. She felt his hand relax under hers and he sighed heavily above her. "Does Monsieur Bernard believe you need a patron?"

"We don't need one now. I have enough money to support this opera house for a while yet, but Jules believe it would be best to be prepared. Apparently, the man approached him with the offer. Jules didn't want to pass up the chance to bring in more money, in case we'll need it in the future."

"Then why not give this man a chance. Maybe he will prove you wrong. It is best to be prepared, then be sorry later. The meeting you have with him should give you some idea to his character. Don't judge this man just yet."

She felt more then saw him knelt down before her. She could almost feel his eyes on her face. "You, my dear," he said softly as his caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, "are something. You really are my voice of reason."

She blushed at his soft, stroking tone.

"You truly believe everyone deserves a chance?"

"I guess I do," she answered in an equally soft tone. "I wasn't wrong about the stagehand, was I?"

"No, no you weren't. Though I am still keeping a strict eye on him. He hasn't made any more moves or remarks to any of the women here. You, my…," he choked back the word he was going to say, "…my dear, are a wonder."

"And you, my kind monsieur, still flatter me."

He chuckled and moved back to his seat beside her. "You are worth the flattery and I mean every word I say."

"So will you give him a chance?" she asked, trying to divert his attention away from his flattery.

"I'll keep myself open to the idea when I see him. No promises, but I won't turn him around at the door."

"How early are you expecting him?"

"He will be here quiet early. You may still be here when he comes. If you wish, you could wait in my room until he had gone, but you don't have to worry about that until tomorrow night. Tell me, how was your work today?"

"Extremely slow. There was the morning rush with my usual customers, but then I had no one from noon to four. After that only one or two people came in at a time, but not many bought anything. They were just looking. I closed early."

"I see that. I can't seem to complain."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Of course you wouldn't."

"One of these nights you should bring me one of your famous pastries."

"Yes, I should, but you'll have to wait for that."

"Oh? You're not going to bring me one tomorrow night?"

She smiled. "I'm not opening my bakery tomorrow."

"Really?" he asked leaning back in his chair. She could hear the creak of the chair as he shifted. "Why ever not?"

"I wanted a break and thought not opening on my, well, my birthday is a good day to take that break."

"It's your birthday tomorrow?" He sounded rather interested.

"Yes."

"Hm, November fifteenth. I'll have to keep that in mind."

She felt her heart race as she realized he planned to still have their arrangement a year from now. That seemed to be such a long time to be merely lovers. She hadn't thought that far. She was just living through this night by blissful night, not thinking what the future would bring to them.

"Well, my dear, are you ready to turn in for the night?" He stood up.

"Yes, I believe I am." She reached out a hand and he gently took it.

After helping her up, he led her to his bedroom door.


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