Author's Note: The speech before the tango is adapted from the movie "Moulin Rouge" (which is quite possibly one of the greatest movies of all time). Yeah, that's about it for me here. Enjoy!
Dinner and a Dance
10 p.m. arrived astonishingly fast, probably because Christine spent half the day agonizing over what she was going to wear. She tore through her suitcase, wishing that she had packed something...
'Something what?' she thought. 'I had no idea this was going to happen! But I still should've been prepared.' Nonsensically, she lectured herself for lack of preparation.
After hours of searching, Christine opted for a dressy-casual look. She wore the new blue cocktail dress that she bought in town, over which she sported a sheer shawl. She fussily fixed her long brown curls in a half-up do. To her joy, they fell perfectly. She did her make-up with more care than usual, succeeding for the first time in establishing a smoky look around her brown eyes. She looked like a goddess.
'Everything has to be perfect tonight,' she thought without knowing exactly why it had to be so.
She snuck down the stairs and started to slink towards the wing. She took two steps and froze; her heels made sharp clicks whenever they touched the floors. Afraid that she would be spotted, Christine ducked into the shadows. Slipping off her shoes, she waited a few minutes. Shoeless now, she padded silently to the entrance of the wing. Thee she waited anxiously. She saw Erik walking towards her and her face lit up. This morning's incident was still fresh in her mind.
As he exited the shadows, though, her face fell a bit: Erik was dressed to the nines: a spotless black suit, complete with gloves and cape. She turned scarlet with embarrassment, immediately wishing for a hole in the ground into which she could crawl. Whether Erik noticed or not ('He probably does,' Christine thought, thoroughly annoyed), he made no mention of it. Just as he did the nights before, he greeted her and took her hand, leading her to their destination.
Erik led her to yet another familiar place: his kitchen. The chic area had been exquisitely decorated, transforming it into a place of elegance and grace. A fine cream tablecloth covered what Christine knew to be a nice cherry table, fine crystal stemware and china dishes were set out in place of Erik's regular cutlery, wine was being chilled to the side, and nothing but candlelight lit the scene.
Christine appreciated the effort Erik went through to impress her. Little did he know that he needn't have put forth such work. His demeanor and personality were all that he needed to impress Christine, not fancy place settings. More than that, she knew that Erik was not trying to show off his finery. He genuinely wanted to wow her. This brought a smile to her face as she sat down at the beautiful table and gazed at the man now seated across from her.
They ate a traditional French meal. Christine assumed that Erik had set the menu himself and had ordered the kitchen staff to prepare it specially. They enjoyed warm conversation and she grew more comfortable with him after each glass of wine. The meal ended and Christine could not help but wonder, 'Is that all?'
Erik must have read her expression. "Come, ma cherie. The second part of our evening awaits us."
He took her hand in his and led her down the hall to a room she had never seen before: the ballroom. Like the kitchen, the high-ceilinged room was lit entirely by candles, aided somewhat by the light of the waning moon which filtered through the large windows. The marble floor was shining like glass; Christine felt like she was walking on water of the stillest, most serene pond. An expensive-looking sound system rested in the corner. Finally, Christine figured it out.
"Dancing," she said quietly. Erik heard her whisper and nodded.
"I'm not exactly dressed for this," Christine said, voicing what had been bothering her for the majority of the night.
Erik smirked and gave her a once over, causing Christine to blush slightly.
"I can fix that," he said to her in a low and husky voice, accompanied by a smoldering look.
'Oh, his eyes could melt stone. No wonder he makes me blush,' Christine thought. 'Well, two can play at this game.'
Seemingly out of nowhere, Erik pulled a stunning red dress. He pointed out where Christine could change and she was off, eager to put on the dress.
Pulling on the little red number, Christine was suddenly intensely grateful for her choice of underwear for the evening. The dress left little to the imagination. It fell a little above her knees and flared out whenever she spun. The bottom was the only loose part of the dress, however. Everywhere else hugged her like a second skin, outlining all of her curves. The low-cut top showed just the tops of her black lace bra.
'I'm really happy I wore this underwear,' Christine thought once more.
She slipped on the high heeled shoes, checked her appearance once more. With a devilish smile, she seductively strutted into the ballroom.
'Time to make him blush for a change,' she thought with a grin.
She was not disappointed. Upon seeing her, Erik froze. His eyes roved her body once, twice, three times before he snapped out of his trance. Christine gave a spin, the bottom of the dress flying up to her mid-thigh, or perhaps a little higher.
"Better than you anticipated?" she asked with the grin of the Cheshire Cat.
"Much," Erik replied, his voice cracking ever so slightly.
Christine noticed that he had changed as well. He had removed his cape, gloves, suit jacket, and cravat, leaving just a white silk shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and his suit pants. She noticed, not for the first time, what a fine figure he cut: his long legs, broad, strong chest, mysteriously handsome features, half-hidden behind a white porcelain mask. Christine shivered involuntarily, although she knew it was most decidedly not from the temperature.
"Have you ever danced before?"
"Not really," Christine answered.
"Well then," Erik replied, a grin on his face, "you are in for a treat."
Erik pressed play and up started what Christine suspected was an introduction to the tango. The violins played slowly as first, but picked up tempo as Erik talked.
Christine was standing in the middle of the room; candles floated around her, making her feel as if she were hovering.
"The tango is a dance of fire, a dance of passion, and a dance of desire."
Christine felt the soft strum of the violins wash over her and ensnare her senses. When Erik said 'desire', Christine shuddered.
"This particular tango tells the story of two lovers, different as can be: the woman, rich and noble, and her lover, impoverished and common. They know they cannot be together, but want it so."
Erik circled her as he talked, his voice intense and deep.
"First, there was desire. Then passion, suspicion, jealousy, revenge, and finally – lust."
Erik said the list in quick succession, pausing before the word 'lust', his voice raspy and filled with want. Christine closed her eyes and rolled her head back in pleasure, heat welling up inside her body.
He was behind her now, hands upon her shoulders, traveling down her arms, raising goose bumps on her soft skin. He spun her around so that her chest was flush against his. Their eyes locked, his bright green meeting her own brilliant amber, both flashing the same emotion.
He whispered into her ear, "Feel the music, Christine. Feel it."
He pushed her away from him. A crescendo of violins and a crash of piano; their dance had begun.
They circled each other slowly; eyes still locked, a foot of space between them. They moved closer now, still not touching but hands to each other's faces, wanting each other and wanting it badly.
Finally, they touched.
Desire. Erik's hand was at the small of her back leading her to one side of the ballroom. He spun her, and led her the other way, his steps quick and deliberate.
Passion. His hands burned her skin, making her want to cry out in ecstasy. They spread warmth to every part of her he touched: her back, her side, her hips. Even the one area that Erik had not yet touched was burning, releasing an ache in the pit of her stomach that Christine had never before felt. He spun her again, clasping her to his chest, dipping her.
Suspicion. The tempo slowed, as did their dance. He broke away from her again, and they resumed circling each other. The look in his eyes was a mixture of confusion, bordering on annoyance. Christine looked at him guiltily, even though she had done nothing. His accusing stare was enough to make Christine shake.
Jealousy. The dance became violent in its intensity. Erik came up behind her, forcefully grasping her arm in his hand, stepping towards her while she stepped back. He loomed over her, his eyes flashing with menace and wrath. His mouth was twisted into a victorious sneer that looked devilishly attractive, baring his perfect white teeth.
Revenge. He twisted and turned her body in a wild array of contortions, his face contorted into an expression of utter loathing. The pain the dance was mimicking slowly crossed the thin line into pleasure once more as the violins swelled.
Lust. Her hands roamed his body, feeling the outline of his muscles on his back and chest while he firmly held her hips. He crushed her against him and they danced with a passion Christine had never before experienced. Their bodies melted into one. They moved as the same being, a swirling mass of red and black. Their eyes burned with sheer carnal lust.
Minutes after it began, it ended. Both were breathing deeply, limbs entwined. Christine's leg was wrapped around his waist, with one of his hands firmly pressed against the back of her upper thigh. The other was holding her chest against his. She had a fistful of his hair in one hand, the other used to pull herself closer to him.
For a minute they remained liked this. Heir bodies flush, their breath coming in short spurts, their adrenaline pumping, their hearts racing. Erik leaned down, his lips a hair's breadth away from her own. He stopped.
He was leaving it up to her.