Yea Christine finally leaves her room! 'Bout damn time, huh?

Chapter Six

Christine had not left her room all day and night. Erik was beginning to worry, as she had been in there for 48 hours. If she wasn't up by 9:00 a.m., he would go in and force her out of bed. He would bath her and dress her if he had to. This was getting ridiculous, not leaving her room for over two days.

Erik stared at the clock. 8:58.

Why wasn't she out of bed yet? He started fidgeting with his hands. He walked over to the kitchen, and made sure the breakfast he had prepared for her looked as appetizing as possible.

8:59.

He turned the plate slightly to the right, and straightened the silver-ware.

9:00.

Erik marched straight to her room. He urgently rapped on the door.

"Christine? Christine, get up! You've been in there for two days!"

He received no response. Fumbling, he pulled the key out of his pocket and clumsily turned the lock and opened the door. He walked to her bed and pulled up the sheer black curtains around it. Christine was no where to be seen. He heard a sound behind him and dashed around.

There stood Christine, fresh out of the bath, dressed in a sheer robe he had provided for her. The robe was meant to go over the matching nightgown, but she wore nothing underneath. Her body was so beautifully white, he couldn't tell where her robe ended and she began. The only thing he could see were the small brown tips of her breasts under the lace. Embarrassed, his eyes quickly darted to the floor.

"Breakfast is ready for you. Get dressed and come eat. Your singing lesson begins at 9:30."

He staggered out of the room in a daze. Oh, how he wanted to run up to her body and plant kisses on it, over every square inch of her snow white skin. But he didn't and he was strangely proud of himself for keeping such composure.

Christine stood in shock as he stood before her. She just grabbed the robe, because it was the closest thing to her, never imagining he would see her in it. She had not slept much that night, and had gotten up early to take a long hot bath. The water soothed her strained muscles, and the smell of the soaps invigorated her senses. She was somewhat embarrassed he had seen her in such a fashion, but she had to admit to herself that he did excite her in someway; and it felt good.

She dressed herself into a beautiful gown that was pale yellow. It was trimmed with lace around the neck and arms. On the bodice pink flowers with green leaves were embroidered. The corset she found in the closet pushed her small breasts up, so two small mounds were visible just above the scope neck line of the dress. Hardly a coincidence, she thought.

She tied her hair with a pink ribbon down by the nape of her neck. She put some rouge on her face. She was surprised so was provided with all these luxuries. She furthermore surprised herself by using them. Why should she care if she looked attractive? Why did she even bother with the corset? Why the ribbon? Why the rouge? She didn't know, but she used them all, just the same.

She arose from her vanity bench and walked to the door. Smoothing her dress, she calmly opened it and exited for the first time in two days. She walked over to the kitchen, where he pulled out a chair and allowed her to sit. He then took the white napkin from the table and placed it on her lap. His hands lingered on her dress, remembering what was hidden between all the layers of fabric; what he could remember in the spilt second he looked at her body. Catching himself, he lifted his hands and walked over to his chair and took a seat.

"Coffee, my dear?", he asked her.

"Yes, please."

He was a bit taken aback by her sudden civilized manner. Satisfied, he poured her a cup of coffee.

"Thank you. I actually am pretty hungry."

"Well you've practically been starving yourself these past few days."

"You said earlier I was to have a singing lesson today. You still want me to sing?"

"Of course." , he said, obviously concerned. "Christine, music is what we are. It's our passion. It's the one constant in our world. When you sing for me, you make me feel as if I have been whisked to heaven's gates, and have the privilege of hearing the Angels sing."

Christine's face grew much softer as he described their music together. When she sang for him, a wave of euphoria swept over her. When she sang for him, all she could focus on was pleasing her teacher, pushing herself every time. And when he sang for her, that's when the real fireworks in her body began. When he sang, she would grow short of breath, her eyes unable to tear away from him; the area between her thighs would begin to pulsate.

"You have the same effect on me." She said looking back down to her meal. She shifted her eyes towards his, and noticed that he was staring at her, grinning.

They both let out a bashful giggle, as a sigh of relief. They ate their breakfast together, talking about a multitude of topics: the managers, Madame Giry, the ballet. Then Christine brought up Don Juan Triumphant. He had informed the entire company just days ago that it was to be the next opera to be performed, with Christine as the star.

"What about Don Juan Triumphant? Am I still going to be singing in it?"

Erik honestly hadn't decided. He didn't want to risk her going back up to the opera and running into the Vicomte again; but on the other hand, he hand written it especially for her, and it would be a crime for any other girl to sing the role of the passionate Amnita.

"Come with me Christine."

He rose out of his chair, and walked into the next room where the organ was. Christine obediently followed him, curious to see what he was going to show her.

"This is the role I had intended for you to sing. Whether you will or not for an audience, I don't know. But I want to you sing this part, right here. Can you do that for me?"

Christine studied the notes and lyrics and nodded. Within seconds her Angel was playing and she began to release a glorious sound from her small body.

"No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy! No dreams within her heart, but dreams of love!"

Erik abruptly stopped playing and gazed into his beloved's eyes. For years upon years he had worked on this opera, and here she was, his Angel, singing it for him. A life's work of sweat and toil final beingliberated through her voice. But he never imagined it sounding as splendidly sweet as the way it did, coming from her two beautiful lips. She sang it the way it was meant to be sung, the way he could never dream of. His masterpiece was being brought to life, right before him, and he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Is something wrong? Is that not how it's supposed to sound?"

"No. God, no." Erik replied quickly, forcing himself to hold back tears of joy. "That was……that was……perfection."

And on that uplifting note, they sang their way through the day and on into the night.