As the small boat came to a halt, Gianna felt his hands at the side of her face as he drew the mask off. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust, but once they did, he was amazed at the home he had created for himself beneath the opera house. Candelabras filled with expensive bee's wax tapers were everywhere. Looming in one corner was an impressive ebony pipe organ, where sheets and sheets of music were strewn. Near that was a large desk and small set of bookshelves. Yellowed parchment drawings decorated the walls. Many were of the same woman; a woman with large doe eyes and masses of curling hair. She could only be Christine de Chagny, neé Daaé. Immediately irrational jealousy surged through her, knowing no man would ever love her as this man obviously loved her.
At the opposite end of the cavern was what appeared to be a bedroom. It was obscured by red and gold velvet draping that looked suspiciously like they once were the main curtain from an opera stage. The ceilings were at least 20 feet high and she could imagine how sound would reverberate. All in all, it was not a bad place to live; here he could work in solitude without fear of discovery. It did not look particularly cozy, but he did not seem the type to long for it. She noted that nowhere to be seen were mirrors.
Now that she had regained her sight, she refused his aid in alighting from the boat by shaking her head when he extended his hand. "I have relied on you for far too long sir. I prefer to move about on my own." She intently looked about for a place to sit, and could find none. There was a large bench before the organ that could accommodate two, but that would mean sitting next to him. He probably had more comfortable seating in his bedroom, but she steadfastly refused to go near there.
Erik sensed her dilemma and withdrew to his private quarters and returned bearing a large plush ottoman. He placed it before his desk and she sat down. He took his place behind the desk and noted that from this position he positively loomed over her. This could only be to his advantage. The way she struggled to take it all in once again brought back his treasured memories of the brunette who had stolen his heart. Her only visits to his domain and been upsetting, for both of them. Once she has passed out from the shock of seeing her likeness in the wedding gown he had designed for her, and the other, well, that was something best forgotten.
Erik casually removed his gloves and from the left hand drawer he removed a fresh piece of parchment and set it down in front of him. "Now my dear, I want you to tell me all about Monsieur Dupoix, the manager of the Metropolitan Opera," he said, while gripping a fresh quill in his right hand.
For a moment Gia was genuinely puzzled. She had expected he want to discuss more about the layout of the opera house, not those who called it their home. Mentally she kicked herself. Of course he would want to know more about Dupoix! If he intended to assert the same measure of control over this place, he would need to know more about the man responsible for the everyday prosperity of the place. To make matters worse, she had given her word to not to lie to him, something that she did not do lightly. Mama had taught her the importance of honor, and even though his intentions were most likely monstrous, she would not go back on it. She could not risk her place.
"Monsieur Dupoix is a very kind, hardworking man. He has been the only manager of this place that I have ever known. He is quite happily married, and I believe he and his wife have four children, two girls: Marie and Yvette, and two boys: Jean and Gilles. They are all grown now and no longer live at home," she concluded, hoping this would prevent him from attacking the poor man's family.
At this, Erik raised his eyebrow, in his experience opera managers were rarely so family oriented. Nearly all were diddling a chorus girl or three on the side, in fact as he recalled one manager of the Populaire had even enjoyed the company of pretty young men which had made him most amenable to Erik's suggestions. Those had been some of the most successful seasons the theater had ever had. Undeterred, he pressed her, "No affairs of any kind? That is almost too good to be true."
"As I said, he works hard. He usually arrives here early in the morning and does not leave until supper. He personally selects what works will be performed, but leaves cast selection up to the director." Here she paused, and looked up at Erik, her eyes filling with tears, "I beg you sir, do not harm him. Without him, I would have no place to go. He promised my mother I could always call this place my home just before she died."
"You do that very prettily, my dear. Is Mr. Reyer aware of your talents as an actress?" his voice cold and cruel, unmoved by her words.
At this, Gia could stand it no longer. Mr. Dupoix had been the closest thing she'd ever had to a father, and this fatherless, motherless creature dared insult her? She quickly stood up, and kicked the ottoman hard enough to send it tumbling end over end toward the organ. She then seized the pot of black ink resting on the desk and hurled it at his head. Erik ducked and it shattered, leaving a nasty black spot on the stone floor.
"You bastard, Dupoix is a better man that you will ever be! Take me back, this instant!" she yelled defiantly in the most diva-like way she could muster. When he made no move to instantly acquiesce to her request she began searching the space for something else to throw at him. Finding nothing on hand, she bent down to unlace her boot. But before she could unlace it, he had moved to the other side of the desk and grabbed her forcefully, yanking her to his broad chest, holding her arms so she could not attack him again.
"That is something, I believe, we both have in common. Or did your father secretly marry your mother before you were born?" he mocked her. Not with just his voice, but with his eyes which seemed to flicker with a green flame.
At that Gia let out an unintelligible scream, the discordant sound echoing throughout the chamber. Suddenly, his mouth came down upon hers, and she lost all powers of speech. Her mouth became stiff, and she was determined to resist him, but a small voice within her cried out to relax. Instead of ignoring it, she succumbed to the dawning pleasure she did not believe could exist between a man and a woman. The pressure of his soft, insistent mouth had her heartbeat racing.
She could feel his tongue working along the seam of her mouth, begging for entrance. Her head began to swim from lack of air, but when she opened her mouth to take a quick breath, his tongue slid into her mouth. When it made contact with her tongue, instead of shuddering with revulsion, a moan from deep within her welled up unbidden. Gia was rewarded with a moan in return from him as she brought her tongue up to meet his and they entwined, meeting briefly before she began to plunder the recesses of his mouth. As the kiss deepened, she felt her knees buckling, and all she could think about was finding a way to remove all the layers of clothing that lay between them.
His hands had been wrapped around her wrists, but now they were rooting through her hair, pulling the pins out. As her wild curls tumbled down her back, his bare hands came to rest on her back, pulling them into impossibly closer contact. An unfamiliar feeling of moistness between her thighs caused her to shift in his arms, pushing her hips forward. Gia felt as though her body was possessed by some wanton animal as she continued to kiss the Phantom, not caring she barely knew him. Her only concern was that if he let go of her now, she would collapse into a boneless heap on the floor. Once again her hips made contact with his, but this time she felt something hard and intent between them. In a moment of epiphany, she finally broke the kiss, panting and gasping for breath.
He spoke before she her brain was able to even form thoughts. "I apologize, mademoiselle. I had promised you I did not have lustful intentions toward you, but a moment ago it seemed an excellent way to prevent you from going into hysterics." He took a moment to straighten his cravat and adjust his pants and then added, "I shall return you now to your room. Go to the boat and put on the mask. I shall be there presently."
His voice was almost devoid of emotion and flat. Had he felt nothing? Gia opened her mouth to speak, but could find no words to express all she was feeling. Her practical side told her it was best if she kept her mouth shut and just go back to her room for the rest of the evening before something she would later regret could occur. Turning on one heel, she made her way to back to the small craft and slipped the mask down over her eyes. A half hour later, she found herself back in her cold bedroom, warm tears streaming down her face. However Gianna could not be sure if they were tears of relief or sadness that he had left her.
On the journey back to the cavern he called home, Erik's thoughts continued to return to what had passed between him and Mlle. Burnside that evening. He had thought a kiss would be a shock, a grave intrusion into the invisible armor she surrounded herself with, and that would quiet her. True, she had been hesitant at first, but it had been a great surprise when she melted into his embrace and allowed his tongue entrance into her mouth. Her mouth had been warm, slick, and inviting, her tongue just as curious as his to explore the space between them.
He never would have thought this tall, plain woman would be the first woman he would touch in such a manner. She had accepted him without recoiling, if anything her response had more than he could have ever hoped for. She seemed oblivious to his mask and his reputation, and for those few minutes he lost himself in her forgiving arms. She made him forget his first kiss, in a place much like this, something he thought could never occur. Once he had thought it contained such promise for the future, when it had been, in fact, Christine's way of saying good bye to him. Her mouth had been so soft and yielding, and she had even slipped her facile tongue into his mouth. He had been so stunned at her actions, he held his arms to his side instead of raising them to touch her face and hair. When the kiss ended, he looked into her soft brown eyes, and instead of finding new dawning passion, there was only tears. He was not what she wanted. She wanted to be with that hapless boy, tied to his gate. In the end, he could never refuse her anything she had ever wanted. But she had given him a taste of paradise that he thought he'd never find again.
He'd found it in the arms of another chorus girl, this one older. He had been certain he cared nothing for her, but the contact of their hot mouths had not been enough, and he raked his hands through her hair, loving the sensation of it as it came undone. Just as this woman was nearly coming apart in his arms. She allowed him to plunder her mouth, and her moan of pleasure gave him a huge feeling of satisfaction. He could feel himself hardening, and when her hips began to create an exquisite friction against his he could only think of ripping the prim dress from her body so he could see what lay beneath it. Then he would carry her to his bed and they could become one.
However, before he could so, she tore herself away, suddenly becoming the prudish spinster. Erik stared at her eyes, now nearly sapphire and her mouth full and bruised from his kisses. That mouth, slightly parted and pink would haunt him in his dreams. Confusion was all over her face, and she was clearly searching for something to say to him. Before she could say she was disgusted with him, which would be a blatant lie given how her chest was heaving, straining against the too tightly fastened corset. From the small distance between them, he could hear the whalebone creaking. Strange, while she had been in his arms, he had not noticed it.
So he apologized, and muttered some harsh words that he had only kissed her to silence her. What a pathetic lie that had been! A look of puzzlement crossed her features, and she straightened up and returned to the boat, and donned the mask once more. It took all his flimsy self control to ignore his still straining cock and not bear her to his bed instead of her own. The journey was silent as neither party felt like making conversation.
What was it about this woman that stirred him so? He had lived without having a woman for thirty-eight long years. Was it simply his body seeking its long desired release? Or was he specifically drawn to her, a woman who kept the world at an anxious arm's length? These thoughts ran riot through his head as the boat made its landing. Normally after such frustration, he would have poured the emotions into his music, but he found himself unable to compose. Finding no other alternative, he retreated to his inner sanctum behind the curtain.
He stripped off his black tails, removed his black waistcoat, and undid his tie, setting the pin carefully on an end table. Erik stared at the man who faced him in the lone mirror he now possessed. The figure before him was not an altogether unpleasant one. He tugged the lawn shirt over his head, leaving him naked to the waist. His arms and chest were strong and pleasantly muscled, the outcome of years of climbing practice. He knew harsh scars littered his back, but they were not visible. His legs were long and soared into slim hips. Before he let his vanity overtake him, he gently removed the mask from his face.
His nose on the right side spread unnaturally and his eye-lid was sunken in. All around his eye and cheekbone the skin was a livid shade of red and seemed to bubble from within. He removed the black wig and stared at the expanse of his forehead where all that grew were a few wispy strands of grey hair and the skull had a twisted shape. If she saw this, would Gia have run from him in fear? Of that he was certain. He could still hear the gasps of the crowd from when Christine had removed his mask, their fear of him had been palpable. He did this nightly to remind himself of what he truly was, the devil's own son, rejected from the moment of his birth. Unable to look any longer, he turned away and sought the comfort of his bed.