Christine dans Deux

An Alternate Multiverse - A Phantom of the Opera Story

Nyasia A. Maire

© 2006

DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Twenty-Eight – Erik's Fiancée

My grinning father turns, grabs the startled Etienne by the wrist and leads him down the hallway in the direction of Christine's room; retreating before his last comment has time to register in my mind. I shake my head at the receding pair, turn and head in the opposite direction. I know a shorter route and after making certain no one sees, I break into a run for the shelter of my father's room. The dazzling distraction, which inhabits my mind, becomes more and more urgent in its demand for my immediate attention. I fumble with the latch on the door and practically fall into the room. Seeing my father's bed I fling myself onto it without bothering to undress or pull down the bed linens. I sigh and close my eyes.

As I close my eyes, I find behind my eyelids an urgent sparkling brilliance instead of the usual lonely dark. In the midst of this brilliance is a shape of dancing sparks that rapidly merge and take human form.

"Christine!" I shout her name. As my voice within shouts, so too does my body.

We rush to one another. I draw her into an embrace that sets every nerve of my mind and body afire with my need for her. She returns the fire of my embrace and we gaze into one another's eyes. I hear the clap of thunder and then feel her in my arms and I feel the softness of an unfamiliar bed. My eyes open and I sigh in relief. We are still in my father's room. We? Yes ... we. I hold my beloved tightly in my arms. And then we are laughing. Laughing like two idiots. I kiss her all over her face and she returns my kisses a thousand fold. I feel the pressing need in her kisses and caresses. She wants me!

"Tell me." I whisper to her half anxious – half teasing. It still seems incredulous that this amazing woman not only loves me, but desires me as well.

"I want you inside me. I want you now." Her voice is husky and her breathing ragged. Her hands pull at my clothing and as I caress her I realize she lies within my arms bereft of covering. She has been reborn into my world naked as the day she first graced the earth with her divine presence.

"I am yours to command, my beloved. I am yours."

Hands unused to the resistance they now encounter fumble uncertainly. The fumbling soon becomes a frustrated and insistent tugging at my clothing. I roll off her and lie next to her panting. While intense, our mental lovemaking pales at the mere expectation of entering her physical body. That entry is an exquisite prelude to the anticipation of release. She rises to her knees and slowly begins to disrobe me. As she lays bare each part of my body, she lowers burning lips and presses hot kisses upon my naked skin. When at last there is nothing else left between us, her eyes travel hungrily along my body, her attention drawn to the center of me, an excited smile plays at the corners of her mouth, her hand lays claims to my hardness. She bends over me, her hair spilling over her shoulders down onto my thighs. Her lips shower kisses along its length. I groan and find myself rising up on my elbows.

"Christine! I … what … wait!" I stammer.

Her hand presses into my chest and I fall back into the bedding. She continues her ministrations by suckling and fondling me. Never have I imagined such a thing! She brings me almost to the point of ecstasy when she straddles me and lowers herself onto me. Our eyes meet. There is wickedness in her smiling eyes and love. I remember when last she mounted me this way. I feel myself twitching within in anticipation of our joining and our release. A smile on her lips joins the smile in her eyes. She stretches out on top of me and our lips meet and lock in a deep passionate kiss. While our tongues entwine about one another, I grasp her tightly and roll over on top of her. Without freeing her mouth from mine, I begin a slow rocking rhythm of myself in and out of her. I want this to last forever, but all too soon the demands of my own body betray me. My rhythm breaks and grows ever faster and harder. She lifts her legs and wraps them about my waist and I slide even deeper into her. She meets my thrusts with thrusts of her own. And still we kiss one another with closed eyes. And then I feel it begin. Her body clamps about me in wave after wave as her climax takes her. The throbbing of her body around me proves too much for me to resist. A cry escapes as I release her lips, my back arches into one final thrust and I follow her lead into bliss finding my release deep within her. Every part of my body sings with the joy of her. I bury my face in her hair and breathe in her sweetness. I take her breast in my hand and gently caress her wondrous skin with my thumb. I feel her hands massaging my buttocks. One remains there and the other sets off to explore the rest of me. She lifts that one hand from her caress and brings it between us. Her hand then continues its exploration as it she runs it up my neck to my face. Oh! This woman! I turn my head and once again gaze upon the magic of her. Her eyes are closed and she is smiling. Her hand moves about my face and into my hair. Her hand finds the back of my head. She pulls me to her mouth, rocks her hips into me and pushes me into her with the hand on my buttock. The movement is delicious. I must confess I believe I groaned aloud at the completeness of my pleasure. The completeness I find buried deep within her.

"Christine!" I gasp. "A moment, please!" I beg.

She giggles her delight at my response to her.

"Beloved, I am very relieved to see you."

"Sir, the proof of your relief lies deep inside me. And it is there that I find my relief as well."

"Ohhh … you are incredibly wicked and at the same time, an absolute angel! I had feared never to touch you again outside of my mind. And yet, here you are. You are the answer to my prayers, well, almost. When the little angel is with us then my life will be complete."

"Yes, well my dearest she could have crossed with me. Something told me not to bring her just yet. I thought that we might wish for some time alone. She is a great admirer of Cecile and I believe Cecile returns her feelings in kind. I promised the two of them that we would return for them no later than the day after tomorrow." She pauses and looks about us. "Dearest, where are we? Whose bed is this?"

I laugh at her questions. Gently, I withdraw from her. My beloved's involuntary response to her now empty space is the small sob that escapes her mouth. She stuns me with the generosity of her love. I cannot believe my good fortune. Not only does she love me, she enjoys loving my body. And when our bodies part, she feels sadness and makes no attempt to hide her feelings from me. I nuzzle her neck and kiss it tenderly.

"We are in my father's house. And it is on his bed we lay."

"I could feel something miraculous happen to you, but I thought it had to do with Christine." A stricken look crosses her face. "You didn't … threaten him did you? Please! You must make peace with him! It is one of the things upon which our future depends. I have known for awhile, but did not know how to broach the subject with you."

Her voice raises an octave and I marvel at its tone and purity as her panic turns to fear.

"Stop! Be at peace my beloved! Stop! It is a day of miracles. We have made our peace and he now openly calls me son. And the strange thing is I call him father. We spoke and made peace. More than peace, he told me my mother loved me. It was my father who made her give me up. So, there are the first two miracles. The third is Christine. She has given birth to a child this day. No. It is not Emma. She has given birth to a son about six weeks premature, but he thrives. And yet, the birth is not the true miracle. The real miracle is today she met the father of Emma. The man who assisted the birth of her son, Doctor Etienne de Wolfe."

I see her look of delighted surprise. And nod.

"Yes. Doctor. It seems to run in your family. Healers and spiritualists. I like this man. I feel a kinship with him somehow. And, I do believe he has already fallen under the spell of true love."

"Really? How do you know this?"

"He asked if I was the baby's father and, if not that, then Christine's paramour?"

"Paramour? Oh, of course, lover."

"I told him some of her story and he seems quite interested in her. He was quite relieved when I told him that Christine and I are devoted friends and nothing more. I also told him and my father as well that I am engaged to be married. I told them that you would be arriving shortly."

I run my eyes up and down the length of her body and sigh. I retrieve my rumpled undergarments and pull them on. Shake out my trousers and step into them. From my position on the bed, I cannot spy my shirt. So, I recline back on the bed.

"What a shame! I must find something suitable to cover up your nakedness as we cannot remain forever within the confines of my father's boudoir."

"I have a request, dearest."

I pull my eyes away from swell of her breast to look into her eyes and I fall into them.

A flash of lightning.

A clap of thunder.

I blink and shake my head. We are lying on her bed.

She jumps from the bed and swiftly closes the door. I notice she has clothing laid out. The midnight blue brocade skirt and maroon silk blouse are the colors she most loves to wear. She quickly dons the undergarments and I help her lace the corset. She pulls on the blouse and fastens the pearl buttons. She lifts the skirt with it small bustle over her head and lets it slide down into place. I fasten the buttons on the skirt. She picks up her black boots. The boots appear so innocently fashionable and yet hold her throwing knives and she pulls them on. She takes two strands of hair from either side of face and pulls them to the back and fastens them together with a jeweled hair barrette. She opens her closet and takes a box down from a shelf. She opens it and I see a woman's riding hat with black veil attached. The top and brim of the hat are black and the side of the hat wrapped with a pale olive green fabric that has small pink buds scattered about it. The side of the hat brim has a maroon print bow, a large dark red flower and pale maroon feathers. I am not sure why, but the hat surprises me. It is so utterly feminine with its flowers and feathers. My beloved has not shown much interest in items of feminine finery. I make a mental note that perhaps no one has ever tempted her with such things. If she bought this hat for herself, I must discover other things she secretly wishes for; then indulge her myself. She arranges the hat on her head and checks her reflection in the mirror. She seems satisfied with the image she sees. I know I am. The sight I see before me makes me long to disrobe her, but I withstand the temptation. She replaces the hat box and then changing her mind removes it once more. Holding the hat box in one hand, she bends and picks up her valise from the corner and turns to me.

"How do I look?"

"Perfect. My perfect fiancée." I let her see how my approval strains for release from my trousers. She shakes her head and grins at me.

"Tonight, dearest. Tonight. We must return to your father's before Trystin notices I am here. It will break her heart to have to say goodbye to both of us."

I stand and walk to her. She bends and places the hat box and valise on the floor between us.

"We cannot allow that. Today my women must be happy."

I take her hands in mine and raise my eyes to her. We fall.

A flash of lightning.

A clap of thunder echoes about us.

I hear a loud knocking and turning in the direction of the sound realize we are once again in my father's room. We both turn and look at the disheveled bed and grin.

"Oh dear! What should we do?" Christine hisses.

"Well, I did tell him I need to get some sleep, so the bed's state is expected. What is not expected is having an unmarried woman with me in my father's boudoir. I suggest you hide over there is a closet." I cherish this moment for my unflappable lady is definitely flustered. "Do not forget your bags, mon chére cœur!"

She gathers up her things and rushes to the closet. I notice that while she has taken refuge there, she has left the door partially open so she can overhear whatever happens next.

I look about and finally see my shirt on the floor half way across the room. Interesting. I pick it up and throw it on, but do not fasten it.

I pull open the door and almost have a fist pound my face. My father gasps and lowers his hand. I am alarmed to see the flush on his face and hear his ragged breathing.

"Father! What is it? Whatever is the matter?"

I take him by the arm and let him lean on me to catch his breath. He casts a loving and grateful glance at me. I smile encouragingly.

"Christine has awakened. She is distraught and calls for you. Please come at once!"

"I will be with you in a moment. Please allow me to dress. I shall only be a moment. Would you be so kind as to give me just a moment of privacy?"

"Of course, of course. But, please do hurry. She is most urgent in her requests!"

"Yes, I will be but a few moments."

I close the door. My dear heart exits the closet with worried eyes.

"It cannot be that bad. I am still here." She says.

"I agree. It must be the strain of all that has happened. She needs a familiar face. But what are we to do about you?"

I pull on my socks and then stamp into my boots. Christine finger combs my hair and then nods at my shirt. Sighing at my confusion, she buttons it for me. She gives me an appraising look.

"Okay. You'll do. Go on. Don't worry about me. I will make my escape and return to make my proper grand entrance. Go on. Really. I've been studying the layout of the chateau and of the surrounding area. There are plenty of secret passages by which I can make my getaway. Go! She needs you!"

She leans into me and embraces me tightly. I reach down and tilt up her chin. Our lips touch much too briefly for both of our liking. She smiles at me and I feel her soul caress me. I return her caress. She pats me on the bottom and shoes me away.

"Go! Go! I should arrive in less than an hour."

And with that she retreats to the closet once more.

I open the door and find my father leaning against the wall. His color worries me.

"You should not have run here. You should have sent someone. Father, please promise me that you will take better care of yourself. Please?"

On hearing the real concern in my words, his eyes shine with happiness and his coloring improves. He takes in a great breath and slowly blows it out.

"Very well. Since my son seems to wish my presence here on this earth awhile longer, I shall endeavor to grant his wish."

We smile at one another and it feels good. Very good.