Initially Gia tried to relax by reading one of her favorite books, a collection of Greek and Roman mythology, but found it impossible to concentrate adequately. The story of Eros and Psyche hit far too close to home at the moment, and she found herself casting the book rather recklessly aside when Eros leaves Psyche for the sin of looking upon his face. Psyche had been convinced by her jealous sisters that her lover and husband was a monster, and one night after they made love she lit an oil lamp as Eros slept so she might gaze upon his face. Instead of a hideous visage, she gazed upon the son of Aphrodite and Adonis, but the hot oil dripped onto his shoulder and he abandoned her for not trusting him. Although she did not continue reading, Gia knew the outcome of the story. Eventually Psyche wins him back, but only after she travels to the underworld on an errand for Aphrodite to prove the depth of her love for Eros.
Erik thought himself a monster when in truth he was far closer to being like Eros. If anything, his physical imperfections made him more desirable to her. But then again, if Erik's right side matched his left he would not be with her at all. He would have been married to whatever woman he chose.
Christine.
It was inevitable that her thoughts would turn to the viscomtess now that she was alone again. But that was not the most pressing matter. Gia rose from her chair and picked up the book that she had tossed aside. It had fallen awkwardly, and lay open to an illustration of the three goddesses parading before Paris who was to judge who was the fairest. He had chosen Aphrodite who had promised him the love of the most beautiful woman alive over Hera and Athena who had promised him power and wisdom. Gia could not even offer that to Erik. She returned to book to its place on the shelf and made a mental note not to look it again for a while.
What could she say to convince him that this production of Giselle would be a disaster of epic proportions if she played such a large role? He was a stubborn man, and would not be swayed easily. And besides, if she refused to do his bidding, God only knew how he would demonstrate his wrath. Gia could not even be certain his rage would be limited to her. She was no coward though; he had gone too far this time with his silly demands. The only good thing was that Giselle would be a wonderful showcase for the ballet and Meg Giry in particular. The ballet was quite popular and if the reviews were good the Metropolitan would stand to make a tidy profit. However, if it was panned, the cost of failure would be high. To stage the production new sets and costumes would have to be made, and Madame Giry might even need to hire more dancers to fill some of the roles. All of that would cost money that the theater could ill afford to lose no matter how successful it had been recently.
Unable to sit still Gia paced back and forth across the small room, her feet making light noises as she walked back and forth endlessly. There had to be a way for her to assure that the production would go well and satisfy the mercurial Erik. What could she offer him in exchange for altering his demands? She had freely given him her body, and there was nothing else she had that he wanted. This put her at a decided disadvantage.
As much as she hated to do it, she could offer to procure Christine for him. But the very thought turned her stomach, and he might require her to do that anyway. Suddenly she seized upon an idea that might appeal to him if she presented it to him properly, however she had little time to formulate a plan as she could hear scraping noises coming from behind her wall.
Although they had made no formal plans to meet that evening, Erik saw no reason to abandon their routine. He felt slightly uneasy because they had not parted on the best of terms. Gia was clearly jealous of Christine and his feelings for her, and he was not exactly sure why. She claimed to care about him, and she had been the one to initiate the conversation, yet she had reprimanded him for not being more solicitous of her feelings. Gia had told him he needed to move on with his life, and he felt he had.
He had left Paris for a time, and he had made a new life for himself at the Metropolitan. He was not pining away for Christine. He had established an adult relationship with another woman, one who did not cringe when she looked upon his face. A woman whose life had been nearly as difficult as his own, and whose pain he longed to soothe in the only way he knew how. Every time they were intimate there was a ferocity about the way they came together, and it was only in the afterglow where either seemed to find peace. It was not what he had expected sex would be like.
Intellectually he knew that it would be pleasurable, but nothing could have prepared him for what it would be like to sink into the hot wet depths of a woman who was panting for him and moaning his name, begging him to bring her release. He had assumed that physical passion would be more tender, but when he was with Gia, it was the farthest thing from his mind. He was always seeking to go harder, drive deeper, and she met him every single time. Perhaps it was a function of their ages. They had both been celibate far longer than most people. Now that they had found someone to share the ecstasy that only two people could bring each other, there was a drive to take love making to its extremes. Not that he would ever say they had truly made love.
How different his two women were! What Erik sought from Christine was closure. He felt that she should know her tutor still lived. If that would drive her into his arms, so be it. He would not physically try to take her again. If she came to him, it would be of her own volition. What a laugh he would have at the expense of the boy then! But if she stayed with him that would be her decision. This time they would have the chance to say a proper farewell so he could finally close the book on that part of his life.
Erik's thoughts wandered to Gia and he wondered if Dupoix would go to her and tell her about the note. He had not been entirely truthful when she asked him about the letter because he had wanted it to be a surprise. She would be thrilled to have the opportunity to demonstrate she was as skilled a dancer as ever. If he could have thought of a way for her play Giselle he would have insisted on it, but there was no way around the pas de deux. She would make a magnificent Myrta with her long arms and legs. True she was not the ideal body type because her size made her less than ethereal, but she possessed an elegant strength that would more than make up for it. People would only have to see her dance and they would know what a woman she was.
It would most likely be his final gift to her. Gia would surely find another lover after she took the stage. A wealthy widower or perhaps even his younger son would make her honorable offer to become his mistress. He would encourage her not to refuse it. She deserved to finally find some financial security. If he thought she would accept it, he would have given her money, but she had made her feelings about such things clear. Perhaps a man would even offer her marriage. The thought of her becoming a wife and mother made his lips curl into a smile as he arrived on the landing behind the wardrobe.
He made quick work of the mechanism that led into the wardrobe and he soon found himself in Gia's room. He had not expected to find her waiting for him. She was not even sitting on her bed or in a chair reading a book despite the fact she was dressed for bed. From the look in her eyes he surmised that Dupoix had already paid her a visit and told her of his plans. She did not appear to be pleased or grateful for his intervention.
"Do you realize what you have done? Dupoix was here accusing me of being behind this!" she said as she shook the note before his face. She launched into a tirade before he could respond. "He believed this was a scheme dreamt up by me to extort money from him and get attention for myself. I must admit had I not known the truth I would have drawn the same conclusions from your rash actions. You need to consider how your actions affect others, Erik!"
"What did you tell him?" he inquired.
"I told him I knew nothing of the contents of the letters and that I only deliver them. I told him you were not my lover and that if I had known of your plans I would have urged you to take other action. He was willing to believe me. For now. But if I continue to mysteriously benefit from the intervention of O.G. I doubt he will ever give credence to anything I say."
As Erik listened to her rant he could not help noticing how deliciously disheveled she looked in her nightgown. He recalled the first time he saw her in it, and how then it had been buttoned up and securely fasted at the neck. Today the collar lay open giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her neck. Her hair was unbound and wild, the way he preferred it. If she wasn't so damned angry with him he would have pushed her up against the door and had her on the spot.
Since Erik made no move to interrupt her, Gia continued, "And this plan of yours is utterly ridiculous! You expect a company that has not performed a ballet in five seasons to do so in two weeks time? You ask the impossible. You know how long it takes to prepare a decent production. The poor seamstresses would have to work round the clock to complete the costumes in time and there would be barely enough time to rehearse!"
Erik had to concede that she was correct. Damn her and her cleverness! He did not want Gia to look foolish on stage, nor would he bring shame to Madame Giry and her daughter. "Then what do you suggest my dear?" he asked earnestly.
"The company will need at least a month." At least he was not so irrational that he could not see that more time was needed. She had been prepared to offer him almost anything he desired within reason if it would convince him to give the company more time to prepare the ballet.
"Done then. You may tell Dupoix that I have granted you an added two weeks to prepare," he said with a small sigh. His eyes brightened to a vivid green and he advanced toward her, "Do not think I did not notice you said "the company" and not "we" Gia. You will perform with them. You are a part of the ballet now."
His penetrating gaze was making her weak in the knees. It spoke of dark desires and endless nights wound in the silk sheets of his bed. When he looked at her that way she had to fight to use her reason for his call on her body was that powerful. She looked away to escape the thrall of his gaze. Instead she looked over his shoulder and at the reflection of her face in the mirror.
"Erik, I beg you to reconsider. You know I would not use the word "beg" lightly. Even with a month to prepare I will make a fool of myself."
"I have faith that you will do nothing but be a credit to this place. Madame Giry can work wonders in a month. Not that she should have to push you that much, you are your own worst critic," he added rather coldly.
"Yet another quality we seem to have in common," she snapped back at him. "I am ten years out of practice!" Gia fervently hoped that the exasperation in her voice would convince him to change his mind, but Erik was having none of it.
"In all those years, did you ever stop practicing?" he asked her. She still refused to look at him in the eyes. If there was anything that irritated him it was when someone would not look at him directly. Using one gloved hand he brought his hand under her chin so she would have to look at him. As he did this he whispered softly, "Look at me Gia. See me."
Faced with his green-gold stare and the feel of his soft leather gloves against her skin, she visibly softened. "No I didn't. Much to my everlasting shame, I could not leave my childhood dreams behind. It seems now I am being punished for them."
"Do you truly believe I am doing this because I get a perverse pleasure from watching people fail? There is nothing worse than sitting through a miserable performance at the theater. Why do think I am willing to give you an extension? It seems I am growing soft in my old age."
Gis reached up and caressed his face without even thinking about it. "You aren't old Erik," she said as her fingers brushed up against his mask. The porcelain was so cold and unyielding, just as he was at this moment. One hand combed through his chocolate brown hair and she brushed her index finger along his warm lush mouth.
He drew in a sharp breath at the unexpected contact, but he quickly recovered, saying, "My dear Mlle. Burnside, I believe you are trying to seduce me. Two can play this little game." He brought his hands up so he became her mirror image. He made no move to kiss her, he only looked into her darkening blue eyes as he touched her mouth with a single finger. Which one of them would break first and end this sweet torture?
Gia did not want to be the person to succumb. Hoping to force his hand she ran her tongue along the seam of her mouth so it would graze his finger. Her simple action made his burgeoning erection rock hard. Tonight they would not make it to his bed. He was unwilling to give up so easily, and he repeated what she did to him. Gia would swear the spark his touch generated traveled directly from her sensitive lips to somewhere below her waist. Simultaneously they reached for each other, needing to be as close as possible.
Gia made short work of his coat, cravat, and waistcoat, and quickly moved to unfasten his trousers as she felt his mouth against her throat. Before he could even think about removing his shirt, she had taken his cock in her hands and was stroking him. She even slipped one hand down to cup his balls, which left him gasping, "If you keep doing that I'm going to come all over that nightgown."
"I know."
She was working him faster now, and he could not stop himself from bucking against her, desperate to create even more friction. He loudly moaned, "Oh God don't stop! Don't ever stop!" as she increased the pressure. He could feel his release looming just over the horizon, and there was no way to stop it at this point. He tried to jerk away from her when he exploded, trying to spare her nightgown, but she held him fast. Erik slumped against her, feeling defeated. What sort of man was he if he could not control his release?
After a moment, he noticed that Gia was breathing rather heavily in his ear. How could that have brought her any pleasure? Grasping her arms firmly, he backed her up to he edge of her bed, and forced her to sit down. He drew up her nightgown, revealing she was wearing nothing underneath. He removed his right glove using his mouth, leaving his left hand on her shoulder as he knelt before her. He could see the moisture dripping from her hidden curls, and seeking to bring her the same relief he inserted two thick fingers inside her as he used his thumb against the bundle of nerves at her center. She was so close, it did not take long before her back was arching deeply and she was quivering all around him.
If someone had walked in at that moment, neither would have cared. He got up from his knees, covered her up again and they simply sat there holding each other for several moments, not speaking.
He broke the awkward silence by apologizing for ruining her nightgown. Gia blushed prettily, then got up, grabbed a fresh one from her wardrobe, and changed behind her screen. He heard the sound of water being poured into a basin, and he realized she was putting the nightgown in to soak. How could she be so damned level headed after what they had just done? He supposed she had to be since she didn't exactly have the luxury of wasting anything as she had grown up. It occurred to him that he should see to his own appearance since at the moment he was sitting there fully exposed with his trousers undone. It only took a few seconds to adjust himself, and then he waited patiently for her to emerge.
Her task accomplished, Gia returned to Erik's side, wanting to feel his arms around her again. As much as she reveled in the feelings he had aroused in her, it was the quiet moments she cherished the most. He pulled her to his chest and they both lay down on top of her covers. She turned so she could look at him and touch him at the same time as she spoke.
"Erik, do you really think I play Myrta?"
"Yes."
"Would you lie to me about something like this the way you lied to me about the note?"
"No," he said as found himself drowning in the depths of her eyes. They were so wide and open, so unsure of themselves. He could not lie to her when she looked at him like that. He kissed her, this time gently and slowly, and as she parted her lips to receive his tongue he could feel hot tears streaming down her face. He wiped them away as he cradled her face in his hands. "Why are you crying?"
"I don't know. I just feel so overwhelmed right now. At this moment I don't know whether to laugh or cry, and I seem to have chosen tears," she said trying to choke them back.
"I am upsetting you. I will leave." He made to pull away from her, but Gia reached out to him and took his hand.
"No Erik, please stay with me. Spend the night with me, here in my bed. I just want to be close to you," she pleaded with him. "I will understand if you want to go since we can't really do anything here, but I would lo---appreciate it if you would stay."
Erik lay back down beside her, keeping his hand entwined with hers. "If you wish me to stay, I shall stay. I just do not want to bring you any discomfort. I do not like seeing you cry," he said quietly. She could not know what it meant to him that she had asked he not leave her.
Gia could say nothing, but she used her free hand to remove his mask then she simply looked at his bare face for a moment before she leaned forward to place a light kiss on the tip of his nose.
"Thank you Erik."
"You are most welcome, Gia," he replied, tucking her under his chin and pulling her against him. It felt good having her beside him even if they both had their clothes on. He found himself singing to her the duet she had shared with Michel St. Andre in The Magic Flute and she sang back to him. They fell asleep that way, with words of love on their lips, no thoughts of what lay ahead in the coming days.
Earlier in the afternoon, in a room in the ballet dormitories, Madame Giry had put together a packet of letters to send to Christine. It included a letter from Meg, a short missive from her detailing who the third letter was from, urging Christine to send it back if she did not want to read it, and of course, Erik's letter. She told Christine she would deal with Erik if he became angry. The packet assembled, she carefully made her way down to Monsieur Dupoix's office and placed it in the out-going mail.
It would reach Christine in a mere two days time.