I'm back and thank you everybody for the reviews! I was going to put this chapter up yesterday night, but my friend was over for the whole night so I wasn't able to. Hope I haven't lost any readers from the long wait.

Countess Alana - Yeah! Erik smiled:) Well, here's the next chapter and I'll check out your story later today.

Erik'sLittleLotte - First of all, cool name! Second of all, I can't wait to see what comes next too! . . . Wait a second, I wrote it! Ah, well - hope this satisfies your curiosity for now and thanks for R&Ring!

AngelicFlutist - Ah! I have supreme Author skills? gives huggles to AngelicFlutist That just made my day. . . Thanks so much for the not only one - but two reviews! Here's chapter Eleven for you and I do hope you stick throughout the whole story.

Thank you all for R&Ring! Enjoy!

-MaskedDreamer

Chapter Eleven: The First Demand

With the new stress on Loralee's shoulders, she found she couldn't eat, sleep, or think properly. She brainstormed every move they'd have to practice in the new ballet she was going to teach the corps de ballet, and wrote them all down so she wouldn't forget.

The task of being introduced as the new ballet mistress three days ago went by rather smoothly to Loralee's surprise.

"Your new ballet teacher is going to be Mademoiselle McLay, who I've chosen specifically to teach you all while I'm retired."

"But she's just a chorus girl, maman!" Meg shouted, obviously as stunned as the others. Loralee smiled at her friends bluntness.

"Ah, that she is. But she also is an amazing ballerina."

Whispers went throughout. Then the ballerina Jammes stepped forward, arms crossed.

"We want proof!" she said in her shrill voice.

"From the beginning of act ones ballet then, Beth," Madame Giry said, limping off the stage.

Loralee slowly got into the first position and as soon as she did, Monsieur Reyer started up the song. She waited until the beginning note and then went off. She twirled, whirled, and jumped away all her fears of the eyes watching her, and soon felt herself flying on top of a white fluffy cloud.

When the last note played and she got into her final position she noticed everybody was silent and staring with awe at her. Madame Giry was the only one to appear happy and clapped her hands, the rest of the Opera Populaire joining in. Even Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André came up to shake her hand and congratulate her on the new job.

Now, two days later, she was going back to her room after a long day of introducing the ballet to the girls. They got down the basic moves but now just needed to practice it to perfection. The Opera was in a week and if all went well, the ballet would be as good as it could get, or so Madame Giry said.

Loralee was also aware that she had not seen Erik since the night they met. He said he'd come to her or write her a note when he wanted something but so far had done neither. She was rather disappointed that he had not but also in a way, very relieved. Less work was all Loralee wanted right now. How Madame Giry ever survived these jobs together for the last 25 years was beyond her understanding and Loralee feared she'd never find out.

Coming up to her door, Loralee took out her key from her pocket and unlocked it. She slipped inside silently and swiftly, cloak swishing around her and melting her into the shadows. After locking the door again, Loralee slipped it back into her pocket and put her hand on the wall to guide her way to the table which held the candle.

Not two feet in she felt something against the wall she didn't put there. Curious, she felt it. It was hard and covered in lush fabrics that normally the noble or wealthy would wear. When it puffed out slightly and contracted a few seconds later she nearly jumped out of her stockings.

It was a living breathing man!

She was about to scream but then a familiar steel hand shot out and grasped her mouth, forbidding any such sound of alarm to penetrate from her mouth. Loralee calmed down when she saw who it was, and he let her mouth go. Still shaken, she collapsed on her bed - or atleast where she thought was her bed, but she must have been wrong because instead she went plummeting down onto the floor, landing on her bottom. She let out a yelp of surprise and a groan of pain just as a candle suddenly lit itself.

Erik stood nearby, goldenly illuminated by the single candle. His mask still seemed to glow white and he looked very handsome. Loralee almost gaped at him but then came to her senses and noted it must be the light. All candles make Loralee think more romantically when lit.

"You know," Loralee said, propping herself up on her elbows. "You could of actually made your presence known in a more fashionable manner."

He just smirked at her, coming over and gripping her hands, pulling her up off of the ground. When she got up, she smoothed out her skirts and cursed when she found her hair falling out of the tight bun.

"Ladies aren't supposed to use such language, Mademoiselle Donoghue," he said, slightly amused.

In reply Loralee just glared at him, trying to fix her hair.

"And put your hair down."

"Why?" she asked, stunned at his suggestion. "It's positively indecent to do so."

She could have sworn Erik rolled his eyes but figured out it was just a trick of the light.

"Because women always have to wear. . . cages. . . around themselves and it annoys me to see them in such pain. A corset is another example, but hair also must be extremely annoying and painful."

"It seems like you are familiar with these things," she said, hint of amusement in her voice. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"Mademoiselle Donoghue, after many years in solitude I have learned more than any other mortal on this earth from reading. No mortal would ever let me. . . investigate on such subjects physically."

Loralee now raised an eyebrow but then shook her head. Sighing, she pulled out the pins from her hair and let the glossy black waves fall down her back.

"Fine then, Erik. I'll wear my hair down."

"Now, Mademoiselle Donoghue, I-"

"Please, just Loralee."

He looked rather surprised, but continued on anyway.

"Well then Loralee, I would first like to congratulate you on your progress of becoming the new ballet mistress. You've really scraped those ballet rats into shape in such a short amount of time. And you're lucky, I rarely give out compliments."

Loralee blushed and bowed her head, taking off her - or more like his - cloak and hanging it up.

"Also, before I came in, I-"

"Speaking about coming in," Loralee said suddenly, confusion clouding her pale face. "How in the world did you get into my room? I locked the door and had the key to it in my pocket the whole time."

Erik smirked.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Loralee. Don't you remember that I have many personal ways of travel throughout this Opera House which I helped build? You honestly couldn't have forgotten that easily."

Loralee's brows were knit together in confusion. She struggled to find out a secret passageway in her room that he could have entered and her eyes traveled past his and onto the mirror. Understanding slowly dawned upon her face.

"You used the mirror. You must have! I remember the tales now. You always used the mirror in Christine Daae's room to get to her so you must have also used mine."

Erik stiffened at Christine's name and his face become contorted with agony and troubling memories. Loralee noticed and shut up.

"I'm terribly sorry, Erik. I didn't mean to-"

"Yes, yes. It's fine. . . fine I guess. It's all the past. . . I'm still trying to erase those memories but. . ." His head seemed to slunk down, tears clouded his eyes, and for a moment Erik looked completely weak. Loralee suddenly felt a great sweep of pity for him and distaste for the twisted soul who did this to him.

"But what am I talking about?" he said suddenly, straightening up, all tears from his eyes gone and his cold and secretive demeanor back. "I should not speak such things out loud, and you should never ever ask such questions."

She nodded, suddenly afraid of his strict and fierce attitude. Madame Giry was right. Erik is very protective of himself and rather. . . selfish.

"What is it you want me to do?" she asked, knowing he wouldn't have come just to congratulate her on her first few days as ballet mistress.

"I've been running low on paper, ink, and quills. You will go out right now to get a good supply of all, and leave them next to the mirror so I can pick them up some time later."

Erik tossed Loralee a pouch which was heavy with coins. She gaped at the amount inside, figuring out how much paper, ink, and quills it would all buy.

"There should be some left overs which you may keep as a token of my thanks."

Then with a swish of his black cloak and a slight click! of the mirror closing, Erik was gone.