Stepping out of the great cathedral of Notre Dame, Jade looked up at the gray tinged clouds billowing across the sky. Briskly, she walked through the wide plaza to the western end of the Ile de la Cite. There was a little park there, at the tip of the island, that she had spied from the Right Bank of the Seine but had never had the chance to visit.
Descending the stairs to the river below, she found a rough bench that was set back from the shore amid the large chestnut trees that crowded the island's point. At the river's edge were a dozen fishermen leaning over the water with gear in hand, hauling in their supper. The small silvery fish, the goujon, that hungrily grabbed the bait were quickly unhooked and dropped into half full buckets. Then wiry arms tossed the thin lines back into the sparkling water for another go.
A chilly breeze pushed off the river and pinched her face until her cheeks were rosy. Pulling her violet scarf about her, she settled against the tree, and watched the men jut their long, jointed cane poles over the water. At last, it was a clear day. Terse movements of arms tossing and retrieving fishing lines punctuated the silent meditation that suffused that spot. The men stood with half closed eyes and weight shifted to one hip, as they gazed peacefully at the wide river and the banks of the city that stretched ahead.
Lazily, Jade stared through the leafless branches at the sky. March was only a couple of days away and the river was still edged with sheets of ice. For some reason, that part of the island was free of it. It must have something to do with the currents and backwaters, she thought absently. Erik might know why. She made a mental note to ask him about it.
At the thought of him, she dreamily shut her eyes, and recalled their last three days.
The morning after her wedding, Jade awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and breakfast. Drowsily staring up at the bed's canopy, she tried to make sense of where she was. When did we come back to this room? The last thing she remembered was hearing Erik's soft, sweet voice in her ear—a beautiful tenor that flitted through her dreams.
After dressing, she entered the front room and found Erik setting out their breakfast. I should be doing that, she thought with a twinge of guilt. His tall form bent over the repast as he placed the final touch on the table—a large crystal vase filled with white lilies.
He turned to her with piercing eyes, and she felt a rush of warmth. He looked young, younger than ever before, with a smooth face and black hair. His white shirt hung off his shoulders and fell open at a perfect, unmarred neck. Different from mine, she mused. Jade's had several love bites at the base of her neck, which she had not bothered to cover. Erik's eyes rested on them for a moment, and he gave her a slow, sensuous smile. Pulling out her chair, he gracefully motioned for her to sit.
So their married life began.
For the next three days, they hovered close to each other over meals, books, and music. Jade would be sitting at the table and pouring over a book, when a whisper of air signaled that he was at her side, staring down at her. She'd look up at eyes, which teemed with life. He'd step an inch closer and the magnetic force between them would commence with its battery of subtle pressures and not so subtle desires churning inside of her, and working their way to her glowing skin.
Face flushed with passion, she scarcely understood her tumultuous, new feelings. There was an aching for his hands, and pain when he'd leave her side even for a moment. It was akin to madness the way she needed to feel his proximity at all times. When they sat on the couch together, she would position herself as close to him as it was decently possible without giving herself away, and showing that she was completely besotted with him.
It's probably pointless to pretend that I'm not, she thought with some dismay. All of her cool independence seemed to have vanished. And his smug, cat-like look of pleasure told her that he knew it—she was utterly his.
They made love each night. He'd lead her to his bedroom, and leave her to dress in the newest creation he had laid out for her: filmy silk, or fine satin nightgowns. Then she'd sit in bed and wait for him to come to her wearing a robe that barely hid his excitement. One night, he sat on the bed and said nothing to her for long minutes while staring into her eyes. When he finally slid in next to her, she was covered with goose bumps, and desperately trying not to throw herself at him.
Opening her eyes, Jade watched the sturdy backs of the fishermen whose hunched shoulders faced the river. One of the men had a small boy with him. Each time the man brought in a fish, he would show the child how to pull the hook out of its mouth, and then place the slippery, struggling body into those small hands. The boy would then reverently carry the fish to the zinc bucket, as his eyes remained fixed on the man.
The child's delicate features reminded Jade of Gillian. As she watched the little boy lean towards his companion with his face tipped up in adoration, a pang of longing hit her. Vaguely, she wondered if Erik enjoyed fishing. She was certain the Pierre would.
A half hour later, she rose, approached one of the men, and asked if he'd sell her some of the goujon he'd caught. Placing the fish bundled in newsprint into her basket, she hoisted up her skirts and mounted the steps. As she climbed the slope, le Pont Neuf towered to her left with its high arches. Along the bridge's horizontal edge were gargoyle heads with puffed up cheeks and twisted stone faces that challenged the air. Staring up at those fierce, grotesque heads, she wondered why they had been put there. The gargoyles of Notre Dame made sense since they were meant to repel evil from that house of worship. But why locate them on a bridge? Had sailors been fearful that malicious imps would lurk under those spans and hungrily drop onto their heads as they traveled along the Seine? Or had some stone mason bribed an official who had ordered that a few hundred extra ornaments be added to that structure?
That's what Erik might say, she thought with a smile. The man was full of cynical, witty remarks about historic Paris.
Gazing at the bridge, she wished it were the day's end. Twice she had seen it at a distance when its arches were lit up like scythes of burning gold.
After strolling along the streets of the first arrondissement, Jade entered a brightly painted café-bakery that was noisily filled with people. Taking a table outside, she leisurely watched the carriages and people that passed by. Although it was rather nippy, sitting there was still a luxury—one she hadn't indulged in before. She felt absolutely decadent as she nibbled on her pastry, and watched a man a few tables down sketch the people who stood outside a nearby assommoir.
She'd already paid her weekly visit to Meley's grave. The vigorous walk to and from the cemetery had been refreshing. And in a few hours, she would go to Jean and Manette's home for dinner.
Yesterday, when Erik had suggested that she spend today outside of their home, she had jumped at the opportunity. The past month had been exciting and endlessly stimulating, but still there were times when the isolation and unending darkness of their hidden home had worn on her.
"But Erik, do you think I should go for the entire day? There's a great deal to do here," she said to him as she eyed the dusty tapestry on the wall. Erik had done a fine job of housekeeping but there were still plenty of things that needed attending. Now that she was his wife, it was her job to keep house.
Handing her a cloak, he smiled gently and replied smoothly, "It is time for you to take in some sunlight. You are not accustomed to the endless darkness as I am. If you do not take an occasional holiday, I fear you will soon tire of our home."
That morning, when they parted at the iron-gate, he caressed her fingers with his long pale ones, and said, "I will meet you in the plaza at nine o'clock tonight, my dear wife." A second later, he disappeared.
Perhaps he's glad for the time alone, Jade meditated as she sipped her coffee and finished the pastry. While she was gone, he could return to his bachelor ways. He'll be able to remove the mask when I'm not there, she mulled.
Jade had thought that by now Erik would have revealed himself to her. She'd spent the time since their engagement preparing for the inevitable shock. Last night, when he rose above her and thrust deeply inside her body, she had watched him with eyes half closed from pleasure. As he tipped his face upwards in ecstasy, she briefly wondered what it would be like to see him with only half a face looking down on her.
Suddenly, the image arose of Erik peeling the mask from his face, and revealing a gargoyle's beneath.
Shivering, she pushed the thought out of her mind. Erik is wiser than me. When the time is right, he will show me. Until then, she would accept his need for privacy.
The only thing that bothered her was that each morning she found herself neatly returned to her bed without her husband at her side.
A small price for happiness, she pondered as she finished her coffee.
Pulling her scarf close to her face, she rose and headed east.
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The sweet smell of cooked meat wafted from the kitchen as Manette basted the roasting fowl. Covering the pot, she held her lower back as she straightened. There was a twinge of stiffness there that had been absent a fee days before. Jean glanced up from his newspaper, and his eyes followed her as she cleaned the crisp salad greens. Rising, he went to her, and circled her broad waist with his arms as he tenderly kissed her neck.
"Is your back bothering you?" he murmured as his hands gently stroked the spot where she had pressed her hand.
Sighing, she leaned into him a bit and pushed her neck into his lips. "Just the tiniest amount," she said softly, and turned to him.
When Jade knocked on their door, she interrupted their lingering kiss.
Entering the kitchen, Jade set about cleaning the fish. Jean stood next to her, and pestered her for a bit until he finally grabbed one off the paper and waved it under Manette's nose. "Fresh from the waters of our great river!" he joked.
Smiling, Manette watched her bustling figure with bright eyes. It had been too long since she'd last had one of those tasty, little fish.
An hour later, they feasted on chicken, salad, friture of goujon, and an excellent white wine that Jade had brought.
As Jean sopped up the tangy sauce with his bread, he stared at Jade thoughtfully. She appears to be happy, he considered. There was a softness about her that he hadn't seen since she'd last been with Gillian. And, there was something else—a glow of sexual energy that was unmistakable. Manette had had that same look when they were first married, as if she was floating on a cloud. She definitely looks content, he meditated as he poured himself another glass of wine. Closing his eyes, he assessed the crisp flavor that suffused his tongue. There are some advantages to having a friend who is married to a wealthy man, he reflected as he relished the wine's superb finish.
Manette and Jade were laughing about something that had happened at the opera house the other day—a temper tantrum by one of the singers. The two women were leaning close to each other with their dark heads nearly touching. Watching them, he wondered what future secrets they would soon be sharing about their husbands. Soon, he and M. Marsolais would have something more in common besides two, pretty wives.
After they finished their meal, they settled by the fire. Jean turned to Jade, and kept his face under control as he prepared to launch his latest scheme.
"Jade, now that you're married, have you considered coming back to the opera house for a visit?" he queried casually.
Something in his eyes alerted Jade, and she looked at him carefully. Then she caught a movement from the corner of her eye. Manette was shaking her head as if warning Jean to keep still.
Giving Jade a steady look, he continued.
"The other day, Emile quit the opera house. We're now short one person in set design." He paused and stared at the fire for a moment as if waiting for his words to sink in. Then he continued. "If you're interested, I think I could talk DuChant into letting you return, and work on my crew," he said easily.
With needle stopped in midair, she looked at him dumbfounded. "Me? You want me to work with you?" she asked with astonishment.
"Yes, " Jean replied swiftly, as if he were a turtle snapping up a nice, plump bug. "Why not? You are very fond of art, and this would be a chance for you to learn! I'd only need you a few days a week, so there would be plenty of time for you to be at your home."
Blinking, Jade set down the christening dress that she was working on, and then eyed Jean in disbelief. His face was shining as he firmly held her gaze.
"Jean, she may have her hands full setting up her new home," Manette said with a soft, warning tone. Then she turned sympathetic and curious eyes to her friend.
Bowing her head, she avoided Manette's gaze. She was acutely aware that her friends still didn't know where she lived. Maybe this was a way for them to keep tabs on her.
She played with the lace ruffle on the tiny white gown as she stalled for time. She knew she must be careful. However, at that moment, she wanted to throw caution aside and simply enjoy the excitement of this unexpected opportunity. Jade adored Jean's work, and if there was a possibility that she could learn from him, and someday become an artist…
Raising her head, she looked at him intently. "Will you teach me what you know?" she asked a little breathlessly.
"Of course," he replied as he leaned forward and clasped her hands. Then he gave her a broad smile.
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Later that evening, after Jade had left by carriage, Manette brushed her hair out in front of the mirror while Jean sat in bed and watched. He's impossible, she thought as she met his eyes in the mirror. He hadn't told her about his scheme to bring their friend back into their circle. It was so like Jean to ambush them both after dinner.
Setting the brush down, she entered the bed. Immediately, Jean's hands were on her stroking her large belly and massaging her stiff back. She gave herself up to his soothing ministrations, and decided it was pointless to discuss what had happened. Jean would do what he thought was best, regardless of what she said. Perhaps something good would come from it all.
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The carriage bumped along the cobbled street beneath the lamplight while Jade rode within. Her head periodically tapped the seat, as she thought of Jean's offer. It was a chance to get back to the opera house, and the stable. But would Erik agree to it?
She had never tried to persuade him before, and was wondering how to proceed. Would it be best to speak with him about the matter as soon as they returned to their home, or should she wait until they were in bed? And if so, should she do it before they made love or after?
The thought of negotiating with Erik over something that she wanted this badly was both exciting and nerve wracking.
When the carriage stopped, she stepped out onto the pavement of the Place de l'Opera and stared across the expanse at the giant building. A sliver of new moon graced the night sky. She was only there for a few moments when a tall, dark form separated from the shadows.
In a few seconds he was next to her. He moved like a phantasm, one without feet that bore down upon her like the wind. When his black cloak pressed against hers, a thrill ran through her.
Taking her hand, Erik silently guided her through a side door of the opera house to a hidden passage that took them to the lake. Jade felt a little breathless as he rushed her along. When they came to the boat, he effortlessly lifted her in, and then rapidly paddled the craft to their home.
As they stepped into the front room, Erik slipped her cloak off her shoulders. Jade immediately went to the kitchen. She had decided to speak with him about Jean's offer as soon as they arrived home. That way, if a disagreement arose, they could smooth it out before they went to bed.
Erik was seated at his worktable, and staring at some diagrams when she carried the wine to him. He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow and waited. Trying to remain calm, Jade casually sat across from him, and barely sipped from her own glass as she looked at his hands.
"I had a lovely day today," she began. She raised her eyes to his, and gazed into their knowing depths.
"I am very glad to hear that, my dear," he replied softly. He dragged out the last syllable a bit, and caressed her with his voice. "Did anything eventful happen while you were above?"
Her eyes took on a dreamy look as she thought of Jean's paintings. Softly, her mouth opened as she traveled to the inventive forms and brilliant colors plastered on the canvases. When she came back to the room, and focused on Erik's face, she met a look of tender, probing curiosity.
Sighing, she dropped her eyes to her glass, and swirled the liquid around a moment before beginning.
"Jean told me that he would be willing to teach me how to paint," she said quietly. Then she raised her chin, and gave him a keen look. "He's asked me to return to the Opera Populaire a few days a week and help him with the sets."
"I see," Erik replied slowly. His long hand was resting on the table between them, and was perfectly relaxed. The silence deepened, and Jade blinked several times before lowering her eyes. After a few minutes, she rose, and went to her room where she removed her clothes and ran a bath.
As she soaped her body, she put aside her desire for art, and the excitement of returning to the opera house. There were many reasons Erik might oppose her working there. They hadn't been married a week, and she was already talking about leaving him. It would be understandable if he balked at the idea.
On the other hand, she would be working here, under his nose if he wanted to see her. She would be in his domain. Also, it would make her comings and goings to the outside world much easier if she could move freely in the opera house without raising suspicion.
Stepping from the bath, she dried herself with the thick, white towel, and stared at her body. It hadn't begun to show yet, but she was definitely beginning to get soft. If she couldn't ride the stable horses, she would have to find another way to ride.
After brushing out her hair, she put on the white silk nightgown that she had found on her bed. The sleeves were long and full at the end, and it had a graceful train that brushed the thick carpets. She walked to and fro in front of her mirror to study its effect, and then laughed. He's trying to change me, she thought. What would be next? Jewels?
Holding her head high, she decided to play along with his fantasy, at least for tonight.
Erik was already in bed waiting for her, and he looked up as she approached. With luminous eyes, Jade moved slowly towards him as she watched his mouth soften, and his eyes brighten with hunger. On reaching the bed, she stood there for a moment so that he could take her in. Then she reached for the covers.
Before she could slip into bed, he raised his hand and signaled for her to stop. "Jade," he said, and paused.
Curious, she waited.
"I wish to see you without your nightgown tonight," he continued with a low voice.
A slight blush stained her cheeks as she searched his dark green eyes. Then she turned away from him, and sat on the edge of the bed. Slowly, she pulled the thin gown over her head. Breathing quickly, she pressed it to her chest while her bare back and bum were exposed to his eyes. Then taking in a deep breath, she brought her legs together and swung them onto the bed where she lay on her back with her bunched up gown held against her breasts and stomach.
Erik gazed at her for a moment, and placed his hand over hers. Slowly, he pulled the gown out of her hands. Then he continued to stare down at her.
With her hands at her sides, Jade shut her eyes and felt tingling warmth cross her entire body. She wondered if she was blushing from head to toe. A moment later, his hands were on her breasts, gently covering them. His large palms were warm, and she sighed from the contact. At that moment, she felt as if she was again a virgin—shy and retiring. Opening her eyes, she met Erik's, which brimmed with ardor. She reached up and pulled him to her so that his body covered her nakedness.
Flesh against flesh was comforting at first but quickly changed to excitement. Each silky movement of his skin rubbing hers added to the thrill. Then his wet mouth took hold of her breast and suckled it causing her to tremble. She lay helplessly on the pillows with his hands pulling her to him as he feasted on her. She couldn't see his face, just the contrast between the white mask, pale forehead and black hair as his head moved with a rolling motion that matched the warmth of his mouth and the snaking action of his tongue.
Shutting her eyes, she tried to sink into the bed and withdraw from that eager laving that was almost too strong. She wanted to touch him, but felt paralyzed by the overpowering sensations. At one point, her body did the opposite of what her mind intended as she suddenly grasped his head and pulled him impossibly closer into the soft mound of her breast. Groaning, he paused for a second, and then continued with more intensity. For a minute longer, she skated the sharp waves of pleasure until she finally cried out, "Stop," in a weak, pleading voice.
A moment later, he was inside of her.
They rode each other with measured thrusts so that she felt every inch of him as he slowly entered and withdrew. Erik had learned some of the secrets of her body, and now knew how to excite her without using his fingers. While he moved rhythmically inside of her, she stroked his sides, and ran her hands along his chest as they rocked together. When he sped up a little, she grasped his butt and pulled him close, which set off a whistling intake of air between his teeth and a rough grunt of pleasure.
Deeper he pushed into her, and her body swelled and grasped his. As they came closer to their climax, he bent down and breathed into her ear. "I love you, my little wife. It is me you feel between your legs. It is me who carries you to the angels."
Erik continued to speak to her with soft murmurings until she climaxed, and cried his name several times. In response he thrust harder into her until he too was released.
They finished and finally separated. As she snuggled next to his firm chest, the inevitable pull of deep sleep was upon her. Jade stared sleepily into his face and wondered how he appeared when he slept after their lovemaking. Did he have the same beautiful, serene expression that she'd accidentally seen a month ago? She wanted to know.
Vaguely, she drifted away on a heavy sea of entwined limbs and silky fingers slipping down her back. In the distance, she thought she heard a voice saying, "As you wish, my dear."
A/N: M rated material at the bottom of this chapter.
An assommoir is a wine shop/tavern.