Ever so slowly

Christine stirred from her sleep, dizzily. Her heart was fluttering in her chest from her abrupt awakening. She turned to face the culprit.

Eric gazed at her, laughter in his eyes. He had jabbed her in the side playfully in order to wake her up and it had worked in a more pleasant way than he would have hoped.

Her face was flushed and her curls were wild and free from the pins that she had trapped them with the night before. Her chemise was hiked up over her knees, showing him the creamy underside of her thighs.

Christine was annoyed. Erik saw the frown plastered on her pale face. It didn't fit the woman she thought she was; a vicomtess. It fit that of the childish and happy woman he had fallen in love with a long time ago. She had changed since then but the old Christine still huddled in the back of her mind; coming out when it pleased. Erik couldn't help but smile.

Christine stared in awe as Erik's emotions changed. One minute his eyes and facial patterns would scream 'amused' and in the next they would be pleading 'depressed' or 'disappointed'.

Now his eyes shown with a deep pride and love she had never seen in the eyes of any other man. Her frown receded into one of her boisterous smiles as she threw herself off of the down mattress and took of running through the door before Erik could stand.

"Catch me if you can! These dancer's legs are certainly a match for you! You just watch!" Christine was running as fast as she could, her smile getting bigger with each stride. She ran through various rooms and corridors in her angel's underground home, discovering new facts about him with each new twist or turn.

One room held an immense library with titles and authors of which she had never heard of; some written in languages she couldn't decipher. Another room held a workbench and various easels and drawing tables. Oils, paints, pastels, and various other art supplies lined the many shelves. As she kept running she found nothing out of the ordinary. Many rich men and women had libraries and art studios; Erik was no different. It was when she saw the theatre that she stopped running and stared.

Red silk covered the walls and thick black silk was woven to create curtains; they were tied back with golden French silk. The stage was made of a deep mahogany wood; neatly polished and shined. On the center of the stage sat the scene pieces for Don John and Hannibal: the two biggest Operas of her singing career.

There were only a few seats in the audience and they were very dingy and old compared to the other aspects of the theatre, but they added to the effect all the same. It was in one of those seats that Erik found Christine, nestled in the deep ebony and red fabric, dozing.

Erik stepped closer to her and ran his fingertips against her delicate shoulder. Christine stirred and looked up at him. The childish nature she had had earlier was swiftly disappearing as she began to speak. "Mon ange, was I really gone that long?"

He gave her a loving glance before answering. "No, amour, you were not gone long. I just took my time getting up, so I lost you in this maze of corridors and rooms. I just now found you here. I take it by your comfortable position that you have grown a liking for my small theatre. Yes?"

"Yes. I love it in here, Erik. It is gorgeous. It reminds me of the Populaire from long ago; when I was still a child." She paused in order to stretch her long legs. "The year I first came to stay with Madame Giry, the Opera House looked like this. It was simple yet extravagant." She laughed. "Correction; it looked more industrial than this quaint theatre of yours. There were many more seats but the decorations were just as simple and the house was just as empty." She laughed again.

Erik smiled at her and reached his hands down to her. She grasped them firmly as he lifted her up to him. Her body pressed delicately against his and her pale face flushed. Ah. The child has come to play again.

Sure enough, the fire and modesty of her childhood replaced the wisdom and self-assurance of her adulthood. Her eyes flitted with passion as she ever so slowly lifted her head to look up into his eyes. Desire flamed in their pale blue depths; very like his own brown flitted with that same desire; his was far more primal whereas hers was much more modest and timid. The thing was: it was still desire. For me…he thought to himself, she wants me!

Christine smirked as she lifted one her hands from his and splayed her long fingers on his chest. Her heart fluttered with each movement she made but she was self-confident and passion-filled. Her other hand slipped from his to caress his marred face with gentle brushes of her fingertips. She then reached both hands up to the back of his neck and pulled his head down to hers. She stared into his eyes for a long moment before she gently, yet passionately kissed his soft lips.

Erik melted into the kiss. She kissed with genuine innocence and trust and he felt every emotion that she was feeling filter into the kiss. When she could no longer overcome her desire, the kiss deepened.

Her tongue fought its way into his mouth and explored every space in it. It nicked against his teeth and was all alone in its excursions until Erik's tongue joined the dance. They fought for dominance and with her inferior size, she quickly lost and Erik took that advantage.

He gripped her around her thighs and lifted her into his arms. Her legs easily wrapped themselves around his waist as their kiss got more passionate. Erik's member rubbed against Christine's stomach as she rubbed her legs against him.

Christine felt herself get wet between the legs as her arousal grew and Erik pressed himself against her. She felt his erection press on her stomach through his trousers. It was then that she realized that she was going to far. No…I'm not ready for this…I just killed my husband and now I'm making love to my dream lover in an underground theatre…ugh…I hate morals. She pulled out of this kiss and relaxed her body against his. His eyes danced in confusion.

She spoke first, in between ragged breaths. "Mon ange, I'm not ready for this. I just murdered my husband for this chance and I believe he earns a little respect on my behalf. Please, do not be angry with me. I am not leaving you and none of this was false. I did all of this out of the deepest reaches of my heart but I believe morals have one the favor of my brain. My body," she paused and gave a slight laugh, "does not quite comply."

Erik stared in amazement as she told him her reasons for stopping. He believed and agreed with every word coming out of her mouth. It was going too fast.

After months of separation she had come back into his life and he was acting like she had been with him the whole time. She doesn't even know me… He sighed and looked down in her eyes.

"Yes. It seems to be quite disobedient." Then he placed her lightly on her feet. He saw how her chemise had fallen off her shoulders and was torn where her legs had separated to fit around his waist, "very disobedient."

"Yes; very." Christine took in the sight around her.

Erik was flushed and his clothes were near falling apart. He looked like a wealthy, lustful, teenager after a romp with a very lucky servant girl. She knew, of course, because it had happened in her home constantly.

Her husbands visiting brothers, who were not married or engaged, frequently had escapades with the various maids and cooks that fit their title of 'beautiful'. She thought it disgusting when they did it but now looking upon the current situation, she realized she was no better; and she didn't mind it; not one bit.

Erik turned his head to look in her eyes again. "Christine….this theatre is yours. You may use all the expenses you please to change it to fit your preferences. I want it to be an extension of you."

She smiled. "Erik, do you think that if we were to create another entrance…could we…turn it into my very own theatre. You know….where people come and watch plays and operas…we could use the money to get away for a while; Persia sounds nice; or London." As she continued rambling on, Erik thought her proposal over. It sounded like hard-work but by the way she had said it, she had unknowingly pulled him into it.

He would do it; and then Christine would be his. By the time the theatre was ready to open, she would be over her late husband and he would propose. The night of the opening...Don John…Christine and I will be doing 'Past the Point of no Return' and then as I'm up there I'll give her the ring. It will be perfect. He already had it all planned out. Christine would be his.

"Yes."

"-And then we could….-", she looked at him and a flabbergasted expression crossed her innocent features. "Yes? You said yes? Oh my goodness! So much to do; so little time!" As she gave him a big smile, he involuntarily started twiddling his fingers. He was nervous as hell. "Oh Erik, this is so wonderful! It's the start of my new life Erik. The start of our new life! Me and you; forever!" She twirled around one more time and then skipped out of the room. Just outside the door, her bare-feet slipped on the marble floor and she fell. "Ow!"

He ran out the door and saw her on the floor, pouting. He tried to contain his laughter but she noticed the laughter in his eyes. Damn…perceptive…now I'm in for it…

Her lip curled back into a snarl as she turned away from him and put up her hands. "Erik Guerrier, if you do not stop laughing and help me, I might just consider locking myself in my room and not letting you see me again. And I do not speak of my gorgeous curls and my pretty face, monsieur." Her eyes glittered in amusement when he finally caught the meaning of what she had said. His eyes changed to a lustful color as his laughter died and he reached down to grab her outstretched hands.

"How devilish of you, angel. " He then stepped back and bowed to her. "Touché, Madame." She laughed at him and propelled herself down the hallway and into her room. Her laughter rang through the halls.

Erik sighed. Her laughter had always made him smile.