Hope everyone had a great Turkey Day!

Three things...One, the rating is DEFINATEY going to be going up soon. Be advised, this chap is a little racy. Please stop reading if you're not interested in sexy situations! Two, I understand that chapter 13 is not showing up for some people. If this is the case, please email me at and I will do my best to email it to you. Three, I wrote this on my laptop while traveling...my laptop glitches when I spellcheck. I looked it over a few times, but I apologize for any mistakes in this chap!

And...as always...ENJOY!

Erik watched as the blonde in his arms winked and wiggled her fingers at another young gentleman, who promptly blushed and raised his glass to her.

"May I ask you something," Erik said, his voice low and resonating.

Meg turned her attention back to the man leading her around the dance floor. "Of course," she replied, smiling warmly.

"Why have you bothered to ask me to dance when you obviously already have such a variety of men from which to choose?"

Meg shrugged. "I like to keep my options open," she answered honestly.

Erik chuckled. There was something irritatingly likeable about little Meg Giry.

"Now it's my turn," she continued.

"Your turn?"

"To ask you a question," Meg explained to him. Then, when he stiffened slightly she added, "It's only fair."

Erik nodded in relent.

Meg took a breath.

"Why are you pretending to be something that you are not?"

The question seized Erik like an anchor jolting an ocean liner to a halt…his blood went icy…it must have been the accent that gave him away…why had Christine insisted on the silly accent? He hadn't had enough time to practice it…to perfect it…

Meg was looking at him knowingly.

Did she somehow know the truth?

His grip on Meg's hand instantly tightened. Her eyes followed from where their hands were locked to his face, smiling.

"Pardon me?" Erik managed, nearly wincing at the tightness in his voice.

"You are no composer, Monsieur DuLange," Meg said slowly, leaning in as if she spoke a great secret.

Erik felt as if he had been punched.

"I'm not?" He said, perplexed as to why he didn't just end the charade and flee the ballroom.

Meg shook her head. "Oh no, Monsieur," she said seriously. Then, dropping into a dramatic whisper she said, "you, Sir, are a dancer."

Erik wondered if it was possible to die of relief.

"Oh," he said softly, forcing a laugh.

"You are!" Meg continued. "The way you danced with Christine…" she leaned in again, "Old Mattie Champlain nearly fanned her wig right off her head!"

Meg pointed inconspicuously at an aged old woman sitting at the edge of the ballroom floor, her eyes fixated on Erik.

He looked away uncomfortably while Meg giggled.

"Speaking of Christine," she suddenly began.

The cunning wench! Erik thought to himself.

Erik was beginning to learn just how skilled the female sex was at manipulating a conversation to their advantage.

"How long have you known her?" Meg chirped.

Erik looked over to where Raoul was still dancing politely with Christine.

"Some time now," Erik replied vaguely.

"And what are your intentions?" Meg asked.

"Pardon me?" Erik said.

"You're asking for an awful lot of pardons this evening," Meg commented. Before he had a chance to reply she spoke again. "Why is it I have never met you before tonight?"

In truth, Meg had been slightly hurt by what Raoul had said that he didn't believe Meg had never met Christine's escort before. It was true! What hadn't she been introduced to the gentleman Christine had been seeing?

And now, the mysterious man arrives…with nothing more than an impressive title and devilishly handsome good looks.

There was something terribly odd about the entire situation.

Erik began to struggle out with an answer to her question when he was blissfully interrupted.

By Christine.

Erik immediately dropped Meg's hands and turned to Christine.

"Well thank you," Meg said, her voice half joking, half serious. "Drop me like a piece of cinder when she returns."

Christine patted her friend's hand. "Poor Meg!" She said, teasing her dearest friend. "I believe Raoul is around…and very available for a dance."

At this, Meg perked up.

"Then I shall excuse myself," she said. "Monsieur, thank you for the dance," she told Erik, holding out her gloved hand for him to kiss, which he did. "And don't worry," Meg continued. "I'll keep our little secret."

She winked and walked away.

Christine wordlessly led Erik to the large, open doors leading to moon bathed gardens where they could speak without competing with the volume of the full orchestra.

"Sharing secrets with Meg, are you?" Christine teased as they walked between high rosebushes, her lips curving into a smile.

Erik gave a short laugh and nodded, walking beside Christine with his hands behind his back. "Your little friend seems to think I should be a ballerina," he told her.

Christine laughed. "She appreciates a good dancer."

He playfully pulled her into a spin, which ended with her pressed up against his body, her lips mere inches from his.

"I appreciate you," he said in a low tone.

Christine's heart melted.

She stared into his amber eyes, which were scanning hers intently. Slowly, he raised his gloved hand to his mouth, pulling the form-fitting leather gloves that usually covered his hands off with his teeth. He brought his fingertips down to her face and gently brushed a wayward curl from her forehead.

"You can't possibly be real," he murmured, stroking the delicate column of her throat with his fingertips. "For I have done nothing in my life to deserve to be this close to the heavens."

Christine brought her lips to his, relishing in the feeling of his mouth as it once again found hers.

Erik was beginning to memorize her lips…how they moved against his in steady, sometimes timid motions. He was beginning to remember that if he placed his hand in just the right position on her back she would arch towards him, bringing her body in direct alignment with his. He knew that if he swept his tongue across hers briefly, she would inevitably respond with a soft, fluttering moan that seemed to speak directly to the most male part of his anatomy.

Such was the case now, and before either was able to prevent it, they had ducked behind a particularly enormous hedge, mostly obscured by the cape Erik donned.

Christine felt feverish as her hands began to quickly work the intricate buttoning on Erik's shirt. Her mouth cupped his throat, moving downwards with every button successfully undone.

Erik could not stop his head from briefly falling back in uncontrollable bliss.

Lower she went, until the entire shirt and vest hung open, revealing a surprisingly muscular form that was undeniably male.

Just as her hot tongue swept across the top of Erik's pants, he placed his hands around her upper arms, pulling her frame up to his.

His breath was coming sharply; he was looking at her with an intensity she had not yet witnessed from him.

Suddenly, she was overcome with the desire to see his face.

The thought both repulsed and excited her. Perhaps, if she could stare at that face without feeling the need to look away…if she could look at it…and still feel the same powerfully seductive force of him…then maybe…maybe…

"Take off your mask."

It was a demand.

At first, Erik was caught off guard, his eyes automatically searching Christine's for that same, morbid curiosity he had seen in hundred's of spectators eyes.

And just for a moment, he had felt what it was like to be back in that cage….

But eventually, he came to realize that there was nothing sinister in her want…nothing evil about what she was requesting of him.

It was just Christine…who had only moments ago nearly given him her body…

who was still panting with a primal lust.

And so, slowly, almost painfully, Erik removed his mask, allowing the shadowy evening to act as a curtain as the moon illuminated his face.

Christine didn't even blink.

She brought her hands to his face, placing one on each side. Unhurriedly, she allowed both hands to run down the sides of his face, one caressing a perfectly smooth surface while the other encountered twisted bone and gnarled skin.

Then, as her hands reached his chin, she tilted him down towards her, kissing him just as passionately as she had before the mask came off.

So overjoyed was he…so completely serene they both were…that they failed to notice the figure standing several feet from them.

Only when it began to scream did they react.