Author's Note – There is mild, semi-graphic sexuality in this chapter…read at your own risk. I don't take responsibility for younger readers who don't heed this warning. As well, I am changing the rating to M. The whole story is not that graphic but I can't risk getting in trouble for it. If it turns out that this is the only graphic chapter, I may return the rating to T. Thanks!

Chapter Eleven – Arrivals

Persia – 1875

Christine

Indira stands behind me looking rather cheerful as she arranges my hair in a most intricate fashion, adorning it with little gold baubles and blood red jewels that disappear in my chocolate curls but match my garments perfectly. The silken fabric cascades softly around the curves of my body, giving me a mysterious yet utterly feminine look. "If only you were serving, Christine," Indira says softly. "I'd love to see the look on men's faces when they see you!"

I've avoided talking directly about serving ever since my conversation with Indira when I'd first arrived at the harem for this very reason; now they think me fit to serve, if only after a few days here. "You think I'm that much of a sight to see?"

"Oh, my dear, you're more than just a sight to see. You're a starlet, a unique one at that." A smile creases Indira's face, her eyes lighting up. "There, you're finished." I look at my reflection in the mirror again as I pin a piece of sheer fabric over the lower half of my face, concealing all but the bridge of my nose and my eyes.

"Christine, are you coming?" Lalitha appears in the doorway, an emerald outfit only enhancing her naturally curvy form.

"I'm on my way, Lalitha. Where's Lakhi?" The girl lets out what sounds to be a snort.

"She was serving today." I shudder, again being reminded of where I am and what people do here. "Come on! The Khanum will be exceedingly angered if we don't get a move on!"

I embrace Indira and she whispers in my ear, "Make me proud, Risa." Shivers run up and down my spine as Indira lets me go, smiling and waving as if I'm leaving forever. Following Lalitha out the door of my room, I see many of the other girls staring at me, staring at me for my first appearance in front of any man, let alone the Shah.

Lalitha and I walk down the hallways of the harem, joined by other girls as we go. Finally, we come upon the spacious room in which I first met the Khanum. It is cleaner than usual, the pillows and chaise lounges all organized and much more regal-looking than they normally do. The lights are low, flickering candles casting a warm glow across the room, the ambiance very seducing but mellow.

In the corner in which I first laid eyes on Chandra sits a lavishly dressed man, the Khanum by his side. There are many courtesans already sitting on the floor, the jewels on their garments glittering in the soft candlelight. Surrounding the Khanum and her male partner are many mystics and sages, all staring admiringly at the women on the floor before them, their eyes showing longing for what they are not allowed or entitled to.

A hand, Lalitha's, grasps my own and pulls me down onto the floor in a sitting position like the others before us. The man beside Chandra stands and the room falls deafeningly silent. He starts to speak in a language I am unfamiliar with and my face distorts itself into a look of confusion. Lalitha senses my insecurity and smiles.

"That's the Shah. He's saying that it is his pleasure to visit us again this month, so on and so forth." Lalitha quiets as the Shah does. Chandra stands up beside him and whispers something in his ear. "I wonder what she…"

"My ladies, I am sorry," the Shah states, "I was unaware that we are not all familiar with the local language." He casts a wary eye on me. "We all understand English, I'm sure." There is a chorus of agreement from the girls. "Good, then." To my utter surprise, the Shah parts a path between the mass of women and comes to stand before me. "Miss Risa, I am told?" I nod, acknowledging myself as the woman he speaks of. Offering me his hand he says, "Welcome to my harem."

"I've been welcomed properly already, Sir," I reply courteously, as I come to my feet.

The Shah smiles. "My wife has informed me, of course." He casts a glance back at Chandra who grins flirtatiously back. "Now, Miss Risa," he says, walking back to Chandra, motioning for me to stay where I am, "What talents have you?"

"Dear, she has the voice of an angel," Chandra says seductively as the Shah seats himself beside her once again. "Let her sing for you." I gulp. Sing? I have not sung a word to anyone in years! I only ever sang in the harem in the confines of my room, and once two days ago when I was trying to cheer up some of the other girls who had to do busywork with me.

"Well, Risa? Won't you sing for me? I know you are of foreign origin, but I know well the music of the West. Sing. And none of that dull opera music. I want something exciting, something worth listening to." I take a deep breath. What music am I familiar with that will suffice for the Shah? Certainly nothing that my proper Parisian lifestyle would have prepared me for! And yet…

No! I cannot do that! What would Raoul, dear Raoul in heaven think of me? But I must! Go on, Christine. Just sing it. I clear my throat and begin. "You have brought me to that moment when words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence…silence…I have come here hardly knowing the reason why! In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent. Now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I've decided…decided…

"Past the point of no return, no going back now; our passion play has now at last begun! Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question; how long should we two wait before we're one? When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?

"Past the point of no return, the final threshold! The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn! We've passed the point of no return…" My voice soars across the notes, stumbling a bit on the words I've not heard in many-a-year. There is complete and utter silence for a few moments, but then the Shah speaks.

"It is opera," he states plainly.

"No, dear!" Chandra retorts. "It may be operatic but it is also erotic, and that is a winning combination." A little sneer crosses her face. "Tell me!" she says quickly to me, as if she'll forget if she waits moments longer. "Who is the composer?"

"I…I…" I stutter. Think fast. "I know not his name." Chandra chuckles.

"Really, Risa, you must know a name!" She laughs at me as if I am a dumb child. "Go on, tell me their name."

"He signed his work with only two initials; O and G." As Chandra and the Shah seem to contemplate this, I look at the many sages lined up along the walls beside the Shah and Khanum. One, a man who appears to be in his early thirties, is staring at me through almond eyes. I smile at him, a small grin but sweet. His face creases in a smile back at me. Then the Shah breaks the silence.

"Miss Risa, that will be enough for the evening, thank you. I have no further use for you at the moment. Reza!" The man who was staring at me turns abruptly to the Shah. "Take Miss Risa back to her quarters. Do not waste any time!"

"Yes, of course, High One," the man called Reza says, moving away from his counterparts and extending an arm to me. "Come, Miss Risa. I shall escort you to your quarters." I take his arm, the skin covered in layers of fine fabric, but I can feel the slight muscle within. It makes me smile, knowing that no weakling was sent to take me to my room, or do more, if the Shah meant for it. My mind buzzes again, wondering what was willed to pass between myself and this man Reza.

We exit the hall and enter the winding passageways in silence. "You have a beautiful voice, Miss Risa," Reza says kindly. "Her Lady the Khanum spoke truly."

"Thank you," I reply softly, trying to be humble, trying to sound happy.

"How did you learn to sing so beautifully?" he inquires of me. Lie, Christine. It's okay. He'll never know.

"I was taught many years ago by a…friend of my deceased father's. But I haven't seen him in many years. We had a…falling out." That's it, Christine. It's over. "It was during my days as a dancer at the opera in Paris."

"Really?" Reza replies, intrigued. "My father has acquaintances in Paris. He hasn't been there, though. He wishes to go one day." I do not reply, attempting to remain in companionable silence with Reza, but he's quite a chatterbox. "Why aren't you in Paris anymore?"

A lump forms itself in my throat. "My husband passed away and this was the farthest away I could go." It's partly true…isn't it? Reza doesn't speak any longer, and I use to silence to contemplate my words; I did want to go far away, but I fear that I've gone farther than I ever thought I would, and not necessarily in measurable distance.

Erik

It has been mere days and I'm already tired. The road to Persia hadn't seemed this long the last time I traveled here. The sun is harsh and I am exceedingly unprepared as it is still chilly in Paris.

Turn back. You'll break your heart again. "No!" I whisper into the dry, sandy air. "I must do this, if not for my own sake!" You are her Angel of Music. Only you can bring her back.

Christine

I am woken up by a sharp rap on my door. I scramble out of bed and hurry to open it, finding Lakhi standing on the threshold. "Christine, the Khanum wishes to see you immediately! She says it's urgent."

I slip my tiny feet into some sandals and throw a small throw blanket around my shoulders in place of a dressing gown. Lakhi by my side, I hasten down the hallways and am directed into a lavish room, the private quarters of the Khanum. On the enormous mattress lies Chandra, and a smile crosses her face as I enter. "Many thanks, Lakhi. And you brought in quite the amount yesterday; I thank you."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lakhi blush and exit the room. "Come here, Christine. That's a good girl." Chandra beckons for me to come to her side and I sit upon the edge of the mattress. "I would have come to see you but alas I spent the evening with my husband." Chandra says the words wistfully, looking around the room with lusty eyes. "Oh, why am I going on? I didn't bring you hear to discuss my husband!"

"Then why did you bring me here?" I ask her, a little put out over her determination to mention in some way or another lovemaking, service, whatever it's referred to as in this place.

"Well, Christine, I'm a little disappointed in you." My eyes go wide. Disappointment? Did she not tell me just yesterday that she expected nothing at all of me; what could I have done to get her disappointed? "You had a man escort you to your quarters last night and never did so much as touch him anywhere but the arm. Really, Christine, you could have declined the escort and saved yourself something like this on your record."

"I have a record?" I manage to stammer, angered with Chandra for accusing me of such a thing. "And where is it written that any and all male escorts must get laid…uh, served, sorry."

Chandra's eyes widen. "Use not such vile terms, Christine!"

"Why not, Chandra? Isn't that what this place is…" but I am cut short by a loud knocking on the door.

"Hello?" Chandra says sweetly. "Come in!" she adds, not bothering to discover the knocker's identity. The door opens and a man, probably in his mid-to-late thirties walks in, his face contorted into a wicked-looking smile that makes me shiver. I look him over, from his darker-skinned face down his silken robe-clad form to his long legs peeking out from the layer of fabric. "Hamir, what a pleasure it is to see you!" Chandra's voice rings out gaily as the man comes over to us and takes her hand.

"The honor is all my own, my Lady Khanum," the man, Hamir, replies, pressing his lips to her knuckles, reminding me forcefully of Paris. "And who is this?" he asks, his voice gentle, as he turns to me.

"This is Risa. She moved in with us last week." Hamir takes my hand in the same fashion as he took Chandra's. "Risa, this is Hamir."

"Good morning," I say to him as he lifts his lips from the back of my hand. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Quite the proper young lady, are we?" Hamir jests, smiling at me.

"Don't be too harsh with her, Hamir. She's from the West." He nods to Chandra's words and they make eye contact. I cannot see well, but I know that there is some sort of communication.

"What is it you were eager upon telling me, my Lady Khanum?" Hamir asks Chandra. "You said it was urgent?"

"Yes, I did. But it may wait. Now is not the proper time, really. And I'm very worn out. Please, Hamir, if you will, escort Risa back to her quarters?" Chandra's use of simple code causes my body to stiffen. Escort Risa back to her quarters.

"Of course, my Lady Khanum," Hamir replies softly, offering me his large, weather-beaten hand; what would that hand feel like on my body? Stop, Christine. You have every right to turn him away at your door. You have no need for a "good" reputation here. "Come, Risa."

I take his hand in my own and am led away, out of Chandra's room and towards my own. We reach the doorway and I state, "This room is mine."

As I reach my hand out to turn the knob, it is intercepted. "May I?" Hamir asks me, and I nod, my heart racing at least three times its normal rate. He opens the door, the gateway into my private quarters which, 'til now, have been free of any male contact, male contamination. "You've a lovely room, Risa."

"Thank you," I reply, not daring to move inside.

"Are you not going to go into your room?" I gulp, chuckling, trying to laugh it off, and walk inside. To my sheer horror, Hamir follows suit, closing the door behind him. It shuts with a snap, closing me in the room with this man who must be intent on ravaging me, taking me until I'm senseless. I am not ready. I am most certainly not ready, and not even because of the inevitable pain associated with my intact purity. My body is reserved for a husband, not for some man off the street who is friendly with the Khanum.

Neither Hamir nor I is speaking, and it scares me a little. It is silent, painfully so, and I fear that my shaking will be noticed; it is, for I suddenly feel arms come around me from my back, strong and warm arms. "You were shivering, Risa. Are you cold at all?" I cannot speak due to the lump forming in my throat, so I nod in agreement. "Would you like to lie down, Risa? Would that make you feel better?" Against my own better judgment, I nod again.

With that, Hamir lifts my slight form from the ground and plants my body on my low mattress. He sits himself down beside me, only sitting. Please, God, let him just sit. Let him do no more than that. Hamir moves to stroke my hair out of my face and I manage to say, "Thank you, Hamir."

"It is nothing to help a beautiful lady such as you, Risa," Hamir responds, his voice sounding very seductive. It would have made my knees weak if I were not so thoroughly frightened to the point of incapacitation. I close my eyes, willing it to end soon so I may not worry as much. "Risa, I do not mean to be forceful or forward, but would you do something for me?"

"What would you will me to do?" I ask, my voice shaking and cracking, but I try to hide it and am remotely successful.

"Risa, you may say no if you wish it, but I'd will it that you pleasure me." I bite my lip hard, and stop when I begin to worry that I'll break skin. "Now, I know that you're new…"

"P-p-pleasure you?" I ask nervously.

"It isn't that hard. I will direct you," he says with assuredness. If only I knew what I was doing and what I wanted. I know what I don't want, and that's to give myself over to a man. But pleasuring him…is that different? "Please, Risa, I beg of you. I will pay you generously." He thinks me a common harlot. He thinks I am here to earn a living, not to seek refuge. Sweet God in Heaven, what have I done to deserve this?

My face must not show my fear, because Hamir takes my hands in his and hauls me to a sitting position. He stands from the mattress so he is before me, his knees knocking against the edge. "Here," he states, leading my hands to the ties of his robe. "Untie it, if you will." I swallow hard, pulling the silken strings apart from one another so the robe opens slightly, lying softly against Hamir's form. It falls open just a little, enough to leave some to the imagination, but…

Good Lord. God Almighty, save me from this hell. At my eye level, about a foot before me is…I blush at the sight. His…manliness, shall I say, stands erect close enough for me to touch. But I would never…

Hamir shrugs the robe from his shoulders, the silk pooling at his feet. I am exposed to the rest of his body, the chiseled chest muscles, the long, hard legs, the firm arms. I have not the time to take in his features before his hands are on mine again. "Just do as I tell you, Risa, and you will learn what pleasures a man."

To my utter disbelief, Hamir takes my small, nimble hands and wraps the fingers about his...oh, God, I cannot even think to say it! But Good Lord is it not the most astoundingly odd-feeling object? It's like ice; smooth to the touch but solid, rock solid. "Yes, Risa," Hamir hisses. "That's right. Now move your hands a little…yes, that's it. Just keep doing that, just like you're doing." I follow Hamir's command, moving my hands about him, basking in the odd sensation brought on by the thing in my hands. I feel an unusual pang in my lower abdomen and I begin to feel…wet, wet in that most secret place.

Hamir groans and says through gritted teeth, "Now, Risa, take me in your mouth."

"In my what?" I ask, shuddering, but still stroking him. "Hamir, I…"

"Please, Risa," he says, his voice pained and persuasive and full of that tone that makes me feel guilty. Taking a deep breath, I remove my hands from him and replace them with my lips. A harsh intake of breath is heard from Hamir as he says, "That's right, take it all." I do not argue, not one bit. It is the most confusing feeling, knowing that he is receiving pleasure and me, none at all, but I feel…different. That dampness in my womanly place grows stronger and I fear I'll leave a stain on my garments.

As I continue to take Hamir in my mouth, his grunts grow louder and more pained. "Faster, Risa, please!" I speed up my sucks and kisses and licks, moving with efficiency like I've known how to do this "pleasuring" for my whole life. "Yes, Risa!" he cries.

My mouth is suddenly flooded with the most disgusting, corrosive liquid. It feels as though I will let it all back up all over Hamir, but the feeling changes. The salty-sweet of this liquid becomes pleasurable, its nasty taste almost good. "That's it, Risa. Swallow. Good girl," Hamir says, pulling himself from my mouth. "That's right."

Minutes later I am alone in my room, lying on the mattress. What have I done? I first feel shame but then…the gold coins on my sheets glitter in the light and I smile; that was not so bad. It really was not as disgusting and vile as I thought it to be. But that warm, wet sensation between my legs…what was it? And what was the liquid in my mouth?

Erik

I rap anxiously on the door of the Daroga's home. He is usually very prompt. Then again, maybe I should've sent a message forewarning him of my arrival. Finally, the lock flips and he appears in the doorway. "Let me in, Daroga."

"Who are…" I step out of the shadow of the doorway, the light reflecting off of the white porcelain of my mask. "Erik?"

"As I said, let me in. I can explain everything once I'm inside." The Daroga shakes his head but guides me into his home. He shows me into a little sitting room and I take a seat. "You are home alone, are you not?" The Daroga nods, his face still distorted in befuddlement.

"Erik, I haven't heard from you in years! Why now?" He sits in a chair beside my own, hunched over towards me to hear what I've to say. "What is this about?"

"Nadir," I say, my voice a little calmer as I emit his true name into the air around us, "you remember me writing you about that young chorus girl I wished to train, Christine Daaè?"

"Of course, Erik! But that was ages ago!"

"She's not so much a little girl anymore, Nadir. She's…changed. I can't explain everything now, but she's come to Persia and I fear that she's in great danger. I need to help her." I try to be as rational and serious as I can be, but the need within me to find her and have her with me grows with every word. If she were the kind of woman I could take like an animal, ravage until there was no more left, until the whole world turns to inky blackness, that would be what I feel for her now, but it is more subtle than that. She is an angel, not a lady of the night, a demon in disguise.