Rousing slowly, Gia raised her head from Erik's bed, and found that she was alone. The curtains had been drawn leaving her some measure of privacy, and possibly shield her from the music that was pouring from the organ. It was not anything Gia recognized, and she assumed it was most likely one of his compositions. His music was a perfect reflection of the man he was: intense, passionate, and mysterious, she thought to herself. It was a pity no one except her got to hear it. But there were few people who would understand it as she did. One only had to spend a short amount of time with Erik to comprehend where his music came from.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day and night before. The trip to his home had been uncomfortably silent, the two of them lost in individual reverie. That was until the gondola settled onto the shore at the place she had come to think of as his home. After he had helped her from the boat, he made straight for his desk, and after digging into one drawer he fished out a small tin. When Gia drew near enough, she saw it was stamped with a gold fleur de lis. He had purchased some French letters after all.
He'd had her there, up against the desk. She nude save her garter belt and stockings, he fully clothed. Facing away from him, he had panted in her ear as she ground her hips back at him while their hands entwined on the desk. The coupling had been swift and frenzied, but left neither close to being sated. When he withdrew from her, she felt so empty that she turned so that they might remain in some close contact. He was still wearing the mask, and she ripped it away from his face without ceremony.
"Don't wear that when we're together like this," she had said to him as she caressed the right side of his face, attempting to ease the sting. For a moment he had looked as if there were tears in his eyes, but then he stepped away from her to dispose of the French letter and she could no longer see his face.
And so it had gone on, for most of the day and into the evening, they had made love. On second thought, one could not call it that. It was sex. Fucking. Gia could barely recall how they ever arrived at his bed. What she could recall with clarity was the moment she had knelt before him and taken him into her mouth for the first time. It been strangely empowering for all it was an act of submission. He had tasted faintly of rubber, but underneath that was something essentially male that it had spurred her on. At first he had murmured instructions to her, but she had quickly learned where he most wanted her to touch. Soon he was calling her name, his hands lost in her hair. She gripped his hips and suckled all the harder increasing in speed and depth working her tongue around the knob. His essence had tasted somewhat salty and bitter but she had swallowed all of it, then stood up and shared with him the taste of himself on her lips as he had with her.
Although Gia had some idea what sex entailed, mostly from overhearing snatches of conversation around the opera house, she had been ignorant of much of the specifics. Her mother had told her that when the time came, when she was married, to simply lie still beneath her husband and let him do what had to be done. It was not something for her to enjoy, it was merely a woman's duty to her husband. It had always puzzled her why if the act was for a man's benefit why so many women seemed to enjoy it. When she had posed that question to her mother, she had received a hard smack across the face. After that, she never asked about what passed between men and women behind closed doors.
It had never occurred to her that there could be different positions, and that there were so many different types of kisses and caresses. She never thought she would be so curious. Erik had done this to her. When he touched her, she lost all her inhibitions, and all she could think of was bringing him the same pleasure he was giving so selflessly to her. She had never imagined anything besides dancing could make her feel so free and alive, but within the confines of his strong embrace he brought her unspeakable joy. Gia had been certain that long ago she had put out all the flames of passion within her heart, but he had skillfully stirred the embers into a searing blaze.
Slipping from the black silk sheets, her muscles screamed in protest. Although her body was used to some regular exertion, it had not been so active in years. There were parts of her that ached that she had never known existed. Looking at her naked form in the mirror, she could see her body was littered with red marks and bruises. All around her navel there were tiny bite marks, and she closed her eyes recalling how he had given them to her. Thinking about the sensation of his tongue on her skin was enough to make her wet for him. But what she really needed were some clothes.
He had stripped her so heedlessly that she had no earthy idea where they could be. However, he had thoughtfully draped his dressing gown over a chair for her. It was black velvet and lined in silk. It was a trifle too long, but it would keep her warm and provide adequate cover while she gathered her things so she could dress. The clock indicated it was early morning, and if she hurried, she could return to her room on her own before anyone would notice she had been gone all night. She still needed to speak with Adrienne Leveau. She would not have the principal mezzo destroying her hard fought reputation.
All too quickly, she was seized with the need to use the bathroom. Did he even have a bathroom? And now that she thought of it, she could do with a bath. Pushing the curtain aside, she walked over to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. At her touch, he immediately stopped playing.
"Don't stop on my account, Erik. I enjoy hearing you play so much. I did not want to disturb you, but I need to use the facilities. Could you point me in the right direction?"
He grinned up at her and she could see he was not wearing the mask, "Would you also perhaps like a bath? If you are half as sore as I am this morning, I would imagine so."
He got up from the bench, and escorted her behind a large screen where there was a wash stand, complete with bowl and pitcher, towels, a cake of soap, and at the bottom a chamber pot. Gia had not used one of those in years since the opera house had modern plumbing, but if that was all there was, she would not complain. He excused himself, and she went about the business of her normal morning routine.
While she was in the midst of trying to give herself a bath using the water from the pitcher, Erik returned toting an enormous old-fashioned oak tub. He placed it behind the screen, and then proceeded to fetch bucket after bucket of water. He knelt beside the tub, and he tested the water with his fingers, wanting to be sure it was not too hot. Assured it was not, he brought forth a tray on which sat various bath oils and scented soaps.
"You truly are a magician! Where did you get these things?" she asked, astounded he would have such luxuries.
"I dislike being dirty as much as anyone. Before I made my home here I purchased the tub and the soaps. As for the water, I heat it on the small stove I keep tucked out of sight." He poured into the water a generous quantity of Epsom salts, then followed that with some oil from one of the bottles. "Make yourself comfortable," he invited.
The water smelled so divine that Gia hurriedly undid the robe, and tossed it aside, forgetting that Erik was still there watching her. He watched her gracefully submerge most of her body into the water, and was slightly disappointed that the only area left uncovered was from her collarbone on up. She let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes, inhaling the delicate floral scent. She already felt more relaxed and less sore.
The fragile spell was broken as she heard the tell tale sound of clothes falling to the floor. She opened her eyes to find Erik climbing in to join her.
"Turn around now, my dear. I'll just slip in behind you. This tub was built to hold two, though I daresay not usually two people with legs as long as ours." Once he was situated, he bade her to get into his lap so she could lean up against him while their skins soaked up the bath oil. She shook her head in the negative.
"Erik, I'm too big. I'll hurt you," she said, wishing that she was more petite. But he gave her no choice in the matter, and dragged her into his lap, in the process causing water to slosh out of the tub and onto the stone floor where it drenched his robe and clothes. Gia playfully splashed him, and he captured her mouth in a hungry kiss. She wound her hands around his neck and they simply kissed until he pulled away from her mouth, but he still held her against his body by pressing one hand to her stomach. Using the other, he groped for the tray so he could reach a bar of soap. Grasping it, he brought it into the bath water and began to work up a lather.
He washed every inch of her skin, lingering over those parts of her that he had come to be most enchanted with. There was that spot where her thigh curved into her bottom, and the gentle slope of her stomach. He scrubbed her back, and then lavished a great deal of attention on her legs and arms. Satisfied, he helped her get her hair wet, and then he washed it for her.
The feel of Erik's hands on her head and in her hair was both erotic and immensely relaxing. She had not been bathed like this since she was a child, and it was an unexpected pleasure. His hands were so large, and yet so gentle. They were capable of delivering death but nevertheless she could not turn away from his caresses. Perhaps that was part of the attraction; knowing that he could hurt her and defying those odds.
When he finished she took the soap from him, and did the same to him in turn. As she washed him, he noticed his body was as marked as hers. She had left actual bruises where she had held his hips, and his back was littered with scratches and indentations from where she had used her nails on him.
"I hurt you," she stated simply. "I do not know what possessed me."
"I do not mind. At least earning these marks was a pleasure unlike the others. But I must admit, I did not expect you would be so enthusiastic. I had hoped so," he replied, his expression one of bemusement. "If you truly hurt me, I would have told you."
"It's just I am not myself when we are together. You come near me and I become like an animal, a mare in season. How long can this possibly last?" she honestly asked him.
"You want to end this then," he said succinctly, disappointed that she would end their love affair so quickly.
"No Erik, I don't want to end this. But the level of intensity cannot sustain itself. You are going to become tired of me. Eventually we will run out of ways to do it."
At this he laughed, and drew her back against his chest so he could nuzzle her neck and nip her earlobe. "Gia, you really have no idea of the infinite variety of coitus, do you? Perhaps I should loan you one of my books. It will take us some time for us to exhaust all the possibilities, and by then we may come up with a few of our own. I could have you here, in this tub. Our bodies slick with moisture and oil, the water providing added lubrication," he vividly suggested. "Does that excite you?"
Gia rapidly turned so she could look him full in the face and excitedly asked, "There are books?"
He laughed again. How skillfully she was able to defuse the situation! "How do you think I know anything about sex if not by reading? It is not as if I have had many opportunities living under an opera house. Looking like this," he said motioning to his face.
"I still say you could have nearly any woman you desire if you would stop worrying about your face. You have much to recommend you aside from that, Erik. You are an intelligent, and dare I say exciting man. I can easily imagine women fighting each other to get their hands on you," she said as he extricated himself from the tub as the water was growing cool. Treated to a view of his broad back, long legs, and firm rear end, she sighed as he wrapped a towel around his hips. It was not very long, and when he faced her she drank in the view of his thighs. She could not help from commenting, "Especially if they got a view of your ridiculously gorgeous body."
That remark actually made Erik blush. He said nothing in response, and instead helped her up and handed her a towel. Since his dressing gown had been ruined by water, he went off to fetch her clothing so she could dress. It took a bit of searching since some of her things were in rather odd places. Most of them were piled by the desk, but he encountered her garter belt and stockings strewn about his bedroom. One stocking had even gotten caught on the end of the bed. He folded everything neatly, and as he carried the bundle to her, he cast aside her corset. He hated that damned thing anyway.
He allowed her to dress in privacy and took the opportunity to do the same. Then he went to his desk where two letters on two different sets of stationary lay waiting. One was addressed to Monsieur Dupoix, and it was on the familiar white and black paper. The other was on plain parchment, the most common sort available, and sealed with a black "E". It was for Christine.
Gis shortly appeared from behind the screen, attempting to arrange her hair as she walked. "You know, if I'm going to spend so much time here, I'm going to need to bring some things down here." Her smile faded into a frown when she saw the letters. "What do you want from Dupoix now?"
"If you must know, I am not making any new demands. I merely wanted to congratulate him on the success of the production, and inform him why Mlle. Leveau was unavailable. I do not want him to think I have grown complacent."
"You told him about us!" she screeched.
"No. Only that Mlle. Leveau displeased me, and I saw to it she was suitably punished. Are you so embarrassed about being with me that you care if I told him what he already assumes?"
"I do not wish for his opinion of me to be altered. If you were willing to stop playing at this 'Phantom' business I would be pleased to be seen with you," she returned, her eyes cast down.
"I am not playacting, woman! I AM the Phantom," spittle forming at the corners of his mouth as he fumed.
"I don't believe that Erik. It's just another mask you hide behind."
"And what about you my dear? You play at being the circumspect spinster, but in my bed you are anything but!" He could not pass up the chance to remind her of how they had spent the past hours. Gia was a different woman without her clothes. When dressed, she challenged him, pushed him to the point where he had once struck her. No one had ever done that before. Why was she not intimidated by him? Even Antoinette feared him to some degree.
"Why do you do this Erik? I only want to help you! You should not be hiding under here when you have so much to give to the world. You are profoundly selfish, not to mention greedy squandering the talents God gave you."
"I care for God as much as He cares for me. He cursed me with this face! This face which is responsible for everything that I am. It's this face that cost me Christine! If not for this, I would be her beloved and not that boy!"
He had flown into a fine tantrum, and he swatted at a row of candles, knocking them to the ground. Gia knew the prudent thing to do would be to hold her tongue, but she hurled the following accusations at him, "Have you never considered that what repulsed her was not your face, but your actions? From what little I know, you abducted her onstage and nearly killed her fiancé. That is not something that would endear you to anyone."
"You were not there the first time she saw my face! She took my mask off, and it reduced her to tears!"
"And I'm sure you had nothing to do with that!" she said sarcastically. "I am certain it was more shock than anything. And if you have finished belittling me for the morning, I shall be returning back home," she said, daring him to continue. "I suppose you expect me to deliver those notes for you. Who is that other one for?"
"It should be delivered to Christine. I am sure you can find out from Madame Giry how to have it delivered," he told her. His letter to Christine was begging her for forgiveness. He wanted her to put the past behind them, and hoped that she would agree to see him so they could talk. There was always the chance she would show the letter to her husband, and he would be forced to flee again, but Erik believed that Christine had to care for him in some way still.
"Are you mad? Do you know the danger this places yourself in?" she said incredulously. "Do you care nothing for your safety?"
"My goodness, do you actually care what happens to me?"
That he would doubt her feelings toward him, hurt her. She did not love him, but he was a friend. If she had felt nothing for him, she would not have given him her virginity. It had been a rash decision on her part, but she would not regret it. He had given her the chance to back away, but at that moment she could think of nothing better than for he to be the one to take it from her.
"I like to think of you as a good friend, Erik. I care about my friends. But if you really want me to get this note to Christine I will, for your sake."
"Thank you. I appreciate your concern," he stumbled a bit over his next words, "And I apologize for losing my temper. I have endeavored to improve it, but it is difficult for me when I think about what happened two years ago. I had not thought it would bother me after all this time."
"After meeting Christine, I can understand why she would be a hard woman to forget. She is most charming, and she treated me with nothing but kindness despite the fact we are not of the same social class. I did not want to like her, but I do." At that moment she could feel nothing but sympathy for him. It must be a terrible thing to love someone and have them turn away from you. He had made himself vulnerable and she wounded him more deeply than any knife could have. How long had these feelings been allowed to fester without an outlet? All thoughts of returning back to her room left her. Using her skirts as a cushion, she sat down on the floor, and looked up into his pained expression.
"Tell me all about Christine."
He sat down beside her.