Chapter Thirty
Masquerade of Don Juan
Part 1
Christine smoothed her hands over her white dress and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. The maid was finishing the laces of her dress and corset and for the first time in a long time Christine felt happy about the evening ahead of her.
Erik had been working hard for the past few weeks in order to make this ball as wonderful as he could. Christine had helped with invitations and she was surprised with how many people might show up tonight. She was dressed in a silk dress of the most pure white she had ever seen. At her throat were several blood red rubies that stood out breathtakingly against the white of her skin and dress. Her mask, which the maid helped her to put on, covered her whole face except for her lips and chin. Her hair was braided into a thick braid but several curls had managed to slip out and lay against her mask and neck. She was dressed as a fairy queen tonight, and the costume helped her feel like one. She had been working on this dress ever since Erik had told her about the ball. Now the only thing this queen was missing was her king. She did not know what Erik was wearing tonight and she liked the idea that she would have to look for him in the crowd, it was a mystery and she was very curious to see what he was going to look like.
"You look lovely, Madam," the maid said with a small curtsy. Christine smiled and thanked her. Gathering her skirts Christine checked herself one more time before leaving the room and heading downstairs. She could hear people talking and laughing and having a good time and she smiled to herself as she made her way down the marble stairs into the grand room. She was so surprised to see the crowds of people. So many masks greeted her Christine suddenly knew why Erik loved to throw masked balls. He was in his element. For one night out of the year he was not the odd man out in a crowd. He looked just the same as everyone else when he was in the room and she was glad that he could be comfortable tonight.
As soon as she was at the end of the steps Christine's eyes began roaming the room, trying to locate her husband. She wanted to see him and dance with him. She wanted to be like a normal husband and wife. But there were so many different masks, not one the same and she could not find him no matter how hard she looked. She found Anthony and Sienna quite easily; they were dancing and made a breathtaking couple. Sienna was dressed as one of the beautiful goddesses from Greet mythology with her black hair flowing down her back. Anthony was dressed as a woodsman of old and he looked extremely handsome as well. Christine wished that he knew the truth of his origins but he had lived a good life with their father and she was afraid to see that end. Anthony glanced in her direction and knew immediately it was his sister. He murmured something to Sienna and the two of them came over with wide smiles on their faces. They both gave Christine a tight hug.
"You look wonderful, Sister, just like always," Anthony said fondly, Sienna agreed.
"Where is your husband?" she asked. Christine shrugged and looked around.
"I do not know," she said with a small frown.
"Would you like us to help you find him?" Sienna asked. Christine shook her head and smiled.
"No, the two of you go back to your dance, I will find him," she said. They hesitated before hugging her once more and going back to their dance. Christine went over and got herself a glass of wine and while she sipped at it she looked around the room once more. She was not happy when she saw Natasha, looking far too beautiful in her woodland nymph outfit. Her bodice was scandalously low and Christine was surprised that she had not popped a seam. She was talking to a man in a black domino suit that Christine did not recognize and she was obviously flirting shamelessly.
"You are more beautiful then she could ever hope to be," a rough voice whispered against her ear. Christine turned around in surprise to gaze into the unmistakable eyes of her husband. She could not help the smile that came to her face at the sight of him and she felt her body tingle in obvious desire at the sight of him.
He wore a black mask that covered all of his face except his strong chin and lips. He wore a dark maroon evening coat with matching pants. On the two sides of his coat and down each leg there was elegant designs stitched into it. Beneath the evening coat there was a black vest and beneath that a white shirt that opened down the front to show a good amount of his bronzed chest. She did not know who he was pretending to be dressed like but she approved of the outfit immensely. She looked back at his face only to see him studying her just as intently as she had been. She blushed and a small smirk came to his mouth. His hand reached out and touched the very top of her bodice.
"You should flush more often, it is an interesting shade on you," he murmured. Christine looked down at her hand to see that her blush had spread to her breasts and she had to look away in embarrassment. Did it have to be so bloody obvious that she desired him?
"Everything looks wonderful, Erik, and your guest obviously are having a good time," she murmured, trying to distract him from her obvious attraction to him.
"Indeed, and you light up the room," he answered, taking her hand and kissing it. Christine studied him again, wondering if he had been drinking a little too much to have so many compliments about her. She said nothing and he smiled.
"Although I must admit that red would have been a color more suited to you, spit-fire," he murmured, obviously trying to provoke her. Christine arched a fine brow under her mask.
"And you, Monsieur, are more suited for a costume of Red Death!" she shot back. Erik grinned, having known that she would have a comeback. He had missed that fire in her and had needed to see it if only for a moment and now that he had it had made his whole evening.
"Who are you dressed as, anyways?" Christine demanded, looking him over once more. Erik took her hand and slowly led her to the dancing area. He wrapped his arms around her, surprising her when he pulled her close.
"Have you heard the story of Don Juan, Christine?" Erik murmured against her ear. Christine swallowed at how sensual his voice sounded. She had never noticed how beautiful that part of him was until that moment.
"No," she whispered, wanting to hear more. Erik moved them slowly on their feet. The people, the music, everything disappeared except for the two of them and Erik's voice.
"He was a lover of legends...any woman he wanted he could seduce effortlessly into his bed. He gave women pleasure unlike anything they had ever felt before," Erik began his arms pulling her even closer beneath him.
"Don Juan had a friend, Don Luis, who also had scores of women in his bed. The two of them met after years of not seeing each other and boasted about their many conquests," Erik said. Christine wondered where he had heard such a story and if it was going to end happily. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid his head down on his broad chest as she continued to listen.
"Don Luis informed Don Juan that though Juan outscored him in numbers he had never had a woman of God. A woman pure and untouched. Don Juan, never a man to pass up a challenge, tells his friend that he will find such a woman and seduce her," Erik said. Christine did not like this Don Juan much. He seemed like a womanizer to her.
"He meets Aminta, a beautiful gypsy woman, who is pure of body and soul, the perfect woman in Don Juan's eyes. Aminta is of course quite taken with Don Juan's obvious charm and good looks..." Erik said, trailing off. Christine looked up at him with a frown.
"Don't stop, Erik!" she said. Erik smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering. He had wanted to see if she was paying attention and was glad she was.
"Don Juan had no trouble seducing our beautiful Aminta. He had her in his bed in very little time but as soon as he joined their bodies he realized that she held his heart."
"He fell in love with her?" Christine asked. She had noticed that Erik's hands had begun to move up and down on her back, giving only slight pressure.
"Yes. No woman had ever taken his heart but this little gypsy woman had. He did not know what to do. He was unused to these feelings. But Aminta's father found out that Don Juan had soiled his daughter and he tried to kill Don Juan, but in the end our Don killed Aminta's father," Erik continued, his mouth moving from her ear down to her neck to press several kisses there.
"During the fight with Aminta's father Don Juan had a lantern full of burning oil thrown at his face by Aminta's father. This left him extremely disfigured and he fled that house in shame, knowing that Aminta could never love him because he had killed her father and had been horribly disfigured," Erik said.
"Poor Don Juan," Christine whispered. It was such a tragic story! Erik had known that Christine might like to hear this tale and he found that he liked holding her and dancing with her like this. People around them were getting drunk and all happily talking to one another, but for Erik, the only person that mattered was in his arms.
"What happened to Aminta?" Christine asked, hypnotized by this story.
"She searched for Don Juan months after he had fled the city. She loved him, and knew that he had killed her father out of self defense. But, unfortunately her search was useless and she later found out that she was pregnant with his child," he said.
"This is so tragic, Erik," Christine said. If only she knew that he felt connected to this story because all of his life tragedy had seemed to follow him like a shadow.
"She met him again, five years after he had fled. Their son was just five years old and Aminta was horrified to know what had happened to him because of her father. Don Juan tried to leave again but Aminta confessed her love for him despite what his face looked like. She showed him his salvation into Heaven," Erik finished. He wiped several tears from her eyes and kissed her.
"They lived the rest of their life with one another?" she said. Erik nodded.
"How wonderful," she whispered. Erik nodded and kissed her once more, with a little more passion. When he pulled away Christine was smiling up at him. She took his hand and slowly led him from the dancing area. The ball continued around them but Christine was solely focused on her husband. Erik said nothing as she led him from the grand room and into the small study that adjoined it. Christine was glad to find it empty and with a roaring fire already in the fireplace. There was a small sofa on one side of the room and Christine went over to it and got the small quilt that was lying across the arm. As Erik watched she spread the quilt onto the floor and slowly turned back to him, the look in her eyes leaving no doubt what it was she had brought him here for.
Erik said nothing as he slowly went to her, his hands cupping her face to look deeply into her eyes. He saw desire in the blue depths of her eyes and he realized that tonight was going to be a Masquerade he would never forget. He was becoming closer to her, and he liked the feeling of sharing this quiet intimacy with someone who did not just want sex. Erik's fingers gently removed the mask from her face to see that her cheeks were flushed with arousal. Groaning very softly he leaned forward and caught her mouth in a passionate kiss. His tongue explored her mouth with sensual persuasion and Christine wrapped her arms around his neck, her tongue going on its own exploration.
Erik's hands smoothed down her back, pressing the length of her body against his own. She whimpered a protest when his mouth left hers but it was silenced when he pressed numerous kisses along her neck and collarbone. His hands, which were still on her back, moved down to her plush rear and he cupped her, pulling her against his obvious arousal. Christine moaned softly against his mouth when he kissed her again, his hands going to the laces on the back of her dress. They undressed each other slowly and when both were fully naked Erik lowered them onto the quilt.
Christine stared up into his eyes as his hands began roaming over her body. Wherever he touched he left a trail of fire in his wake. Christine's body was flushed with need and she let her hands do their own exploring. He slowly began to kiss his way all over her body and Erik loved the way that Christine moaned whenever he touched her. She was Aminta to his Don Juan.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured when she arched against him when he took her breast into his mouth to gently suckle. Her hands tangled in his hair and she pulled him close. His hand smoothed down her breasts, her flat stomach until his fingers slowly sank into her hot center. She gasped and kissed all over his warm chest. His tongue began an erotic dance with her own as his fingers moved inside of her, coaxing her to find her pleasure. Christine wanted to give him something as well, and knowing that if it felt good to her then it might feel good to him her hand slowly left his back and wrapped itself around his manhood. Erik's arm, which had been holding him upright, gave out from under him and he collapsed against her as her curious hands stroked him. Knowing he would not last that way Erik reached down and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from him and kissing her fingers.
His arms wrapped firmly around her back and he pulled her against his chest when he finally joined them as one. Christine gasped against the flesh of his neck as he moved gently within her, promising her pleasure with each powerful thrust. Christine looked up into his impassioned face and realized that she was slowly but surely falling in love with him. Love had never been on her mind before, how could it possibly be now? What had Erik done to worm his way into her heart? What was she going to do about it? She had no idea and the idea frightened her. She did not like the unknown and love of this sort was unknown to her.
Christine was torn from her thoughts when pleasure washed over her body, sending it spiraling into ecstasy until she collapsed underneath Erik. He came a moment later, his groan soft and hoarse as he gave her his life's seed and slowly collapsed on top of her, his arms staying wrapped tightly about her.
xXx
Erik turned to look at Christine once more. She was lying on the quilt, having fallen asleep from their intense lovemaking. Her legs were bare because her only blanket was Erik's evening coat. Her costume lay in a pile not far from her and he told himself that he would come back in an hour and see if she was up so he could help her get it back on. He needed to return to the party but he did not want to wake his wife. She looked so peaceful sleeping as she was and he did not want to drag her out of that peaceful sleep. Smiling at her one more time he silently left the room, wondering what the pain in his heart was at having to be separated from her for a even an hour.
xXx
Natasha felt a cold rage wash over her as she silently slipped into the small study. Christine Desslar was lying on a quilt, Erik's evening coat lying over her as she slept. The girls costume was next to her and Natasha knew all to well what the two of them had been doing while their guests attended the ball. As she gazed down at the young woman before her Natasha had an unexplainable urge to kill the young girl where she slept. She looked so damn beautiful lying there and she hated her for taking Erik away from her.
What did this woman have that she did not? What did Erik see in her that he did not see in Natasha? Why was Christine good enough to be his wife but she herself was not? Well, revenge would soon be hers.
xXx
"Erik?" Christine whispered, opening her eyes sleepily. She had not meant to fall asleep but the feel of Erik's arms around her had been comforting and she had allowed herself to relax. But Erik was not beside her and his coat was what was keeping her warm. Sighing she sat up and pushed some curls that had managed to slip free from her braid away from her face. Christine slipped his evening coat on and stood, unable to keep in her smile when his coat fell to just above her knees.
"How sweet," a voice murmured sarcastically. Christine's head snapped around to see Natasha standing in the shadows...a pistol in her hands.
A/N: I know! A cliffie! But you will get to know what happens soon enough! It says part one under the chapter title because this is the first part of the mask ball, Erik and Christine getting closer; the next part obviously is going to have more angst! The story of Don Juan is a mixture of the many different interpretations, so there is a little of everything! please review!