The Crystal Rainbow
An Alternate Universe – Phantom of the Opera Story
Nyasia A. Maire
© 2007
DISCLAIMER: I do not hold the rights nor did I create any characters found in The Phantom of the Opera or Phantom, nor have I received monetary compensation for writing this story.
Yearning is the desire for the one you love.
Longing is the lust you feel and tell yourself that it is love.
A Fool's Book of Wisdom
Chapter Twenty-One – Yearning
She placed the pen back into the drawer, folded the paper in half and then placed it in the center of the desk. Holding her hands over the letter, she spoke. Her voice ringing with a sudden power.
"Go to Nadir! Now!"
The room seemed to grow dark although the lamps still burned as brightly as before. The light they cast simply did not reach beyond their chimneys. The hair on the back of Helen's neck began to tingle and then all of the hair on her head stood straight on end. A small flash of light enveloped the letter, which immediately disappeared. The old woman's hair relaxed immediately and fell to her shoulders. The lamp lights brightened and once again cast their golden glow into every corner of the small room. Helen sighed and lowered her hands to rest them atop of her desk. She bowed her head and found she was unsure whether it was in supplication or defeat.
"Well, I guess it is out of my hands now. I hope he decides to visit and at the same time not. It is such blissful torture to have him so close. Merde! So close and yet not …."
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"This feels so delightfully wicked, Erik! Are you quite certain that this is a method of teaching voice? Or, are you trying to seduce me, Monsieur?"
Her eyes glistened with a mischievous light, while her words slid smoothly from her mouth with mock horror. She arched an eyebrow at him as she awaited his response. The man that hovered above her body, his hands controlling her body's movements, froze as he attempted to regain his composure. Then, matching the impish light shining in the young woman's eyes, a sly smile stole across his lips and a husky chuckle rolled from his mouth.
"Do I need to seduce you, Mademoiselle? It seems to me that you came to your position beneath me quite willingly. Perhaps, we are both the wicked ones here."
He pressed the hard evidence of his wickedness against the side of her thigh and she released a sound somewhere between a hiss and a moan. Her back arched as her body immediately sought to bury itself tightly against the firm body of the man. Their actions unknowing proof of Newton's Third Law of Motion that forces always come in pairs as he moved nearer to her and their passion swept all cognizant thought from his mind leaving only desire. Two pairs of lips crashed desperately against each other, ravenous to sate the longing, which overwhelmed the man and woman. Hands glided over soft, yielding mounds and slid along a thick, rigid shaft. As the writhing movements of the pair became ever more frantic, so too did the sound of the impending storm outside.
Christine tore her mouth away from Erik's and stared at him with wild eyes.
"Prenez-moi, Erik! Maintenant¹!" She gasped raggedly.
"Oh, Christine!"
He cleared his throat and raised his eyes beseechingly to the heavens. A shudder ran through his body and he allowed his head to roll from side-to-side along his back before he lifted his head, returning his gaze to the panting brunette. His eyes filled with desperate longing, as they pierced into her soul before he turned away and his shoulders sagged in defeat. He sighed.
"Really, Christine! Tu êtes ma petite verrou de foudre²! I desire nothing more than to lay with you, swath your lips and breasts with kisses, then cover your body with mine and take you, but we both know what the result of that action would be. I want you, Christine. And, I wish to live long enough to make you mine in every way, but only if that is what you truly desire. I love you and if you were willing, I would ask you to be my wife, to bear my children, to spend the rest of your life with me. I desire all of these things, but I cannot ask anything of you until we tame the storm you carry within your soul. So, please do not tempt me. I am in love with you and cannot withstand the lure of your charms when you offer them to me so freely. I feared that our attraction would interfere with our lessons and that is the reason why I put you off for the last week. I cannot do this alone. We must resist temptation together. We must stand firm in our resolve to wait until you are ready. So, I ask you, Christine, can you allow me to teach you without tormenting me? Can you do this, ma chéri?"
The smirk on the young woman's face faded and she pursed her lips.
"Oh, Erik! The last thing I intended was to tease you. In fact, I am most serious about my feelings for you. I do not wish for anything to happen to you because of this damnable power that seems to control my life. I … I am sorry. It is just that when you touch me, I do not wish to control myself. My entire life has been that of me controlling my wants and desires. Ever since the death of my papa, I have remained untouched and unloved. I listened and watched as everyone lived around me. I have hidden behind a mask, pretending that I did not want the same things other women wanted, but I do want them. Actually, I want you, Erik! I ache with need. When you place your hands on me, I burn deep inside. You are not the only one that feels tormented, mon amour. I may be untouched, but I am not wholly innocent. I am aware of the things that men and women do. One cannot live on an estate the size of the de Chagney's without witnessing assignations. I realize that I must learn control or I could seriously hurt someone. If one good thing can come of Helen's mistake, it is to show me what comes from not being properly prepared. I want you, but I promise to behave. Please, continue with the lesson. I promise that I shall conduct myself in a manner appropriate for a young, unmarried lady. Truly! I promise!"
The panting couple leaned against one another as they slowly regained control over their breathing. Erik pressed a single kiss to Christine's forehead then looked deeply into her eyes.
"I need you always to remember that I love you. Can you do that for me, ma chérie? Please?" He murmured huskily.
Returning his stare with wide, unblinking eyes, Christine nodded and smiled gently as she allowed her love for Erik to speak to him through her eyes.
The young man sighed once more, bowed his head and turned away. Removing his mask, he wiped the sweat from his face then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and ran it across the inside of his mask. He quickly returned the mask to his face and the handkerchief to his pocket. Then, he took a deep breath and released it; he opened his eyes, turned to her and began again.
"Very well. Listen to my words, Christine. I wish for you to listen and think about the action I describe. Do not move! Perform the action within your mind. I shall move your body for you. Listen to the sound of my voice and feel yourself becoming relaxed. Your muscles are loose. There is no tension in your body. Every part of you is limp and free. Breathing is the only action I require of you. Breathe deep. Allow your lungs to take in just as much air as you need. Listen to my voice and relax."
He allowed his eyes to roam over the body lying on the table and watched the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. Her open eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling with a slightly glazed look causing the rich brown orbs to appear dull. The line of her jaw appeared soft and unclenched even with her mouth closed. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth and he nodded almost imperceptibly in approval.
"She is a quick study. Perhaps, this will be easier than I hoped, but we shall see."
"Very good, Christine. Now, close your eyes and perform these actions in your mind. Remember. Do not move your body. Perform the movements as I instruct, but do not move your body. Today, we begin to retrain your mind. Once your mind learns the proper way to move, your body will follow. Perfect. We are ready to begin. Christine, you wish to sing. You have chosen the song. You hear the introduction of the piece. Now, picture in your mind …."
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Helen looked out of her bedroom window and watched as the signs of the impending storm slowly diminished. The wind, which had begun to whip through the trees surrounding her home, died and the trees became still. The low rumbling of thunder ceased and the sound of silence hung heavily for a moment before the everyday sounds of the forest resumed.
She chuckled.
"Merde, ça c'est trop fort³! They can actually control themselves! This is amazing! A man that thinks with his big head and not the little one. Perhaps, Erik is more than just a man after all …."
Her chuckle caught and died in her throat as her eyes locked onto the dim reflection of her face wavering on the surface of the window pane. Her eyes clenched shut in denial of the image before her, but opened reluctantly to stare at the woman looking back at her from within the glass. She sighed and turned away. Crossing the floor, she dropped to her knees before her large armoire in the corner of her room. She drew open the bottom drawer, her hands dipped inside to rummage beneath the carefully folded shawls and throws lying within the drawer. When her hands contacted the cold, smoothness she sought, she grasped it tightly and withdrew the object. She held a large, ornately decorated, silver-backed hand mirror. Her fingers lovingly ran over the swirls and whorls of the designs adorning its back, smiling slightly as they gently traced over the initials "H. de B." Steeling herself against the pain that she knew her action would cause, she flipped over the mirror, held it up and looked at the reflection in the glass.
"Mon Dieu! I sometimes forget and feel like the girl I once was, but then it seems that fate always steps in and reminds me of the horror, which is my face."
She tilted her head, first to one side and then to the other as she carefully considered her reflection.
"I cannot decide which camp is correct. Those who believe my face appears melted or those who think it looks like a bowl of folded bread dough. Perhaps, they are both correct. Hmmm …. Melted bread dough …. Yes, that is just the thing to tempt a man into my bed. What a fool I am! One would think that after all of these years I would have become used to the fact that my cursed appearance dictated my lonely fate. I would think that my advanced years would act as a sedative to my overactive libido, but it only seems to grow stronger."
The soft chiming of a clock interrupted her painful musing. She quickly returned the mirror to the drawer and slammed it shut. The old woman struggled to her feet and allowed her hands to smooth out the rumpled lines of her skirt.
"Oh, fuck! It is almost time for Nadir to arrive and here I sit crying. Pull yourself together, old girl. Forget that you want him! Your best friend is about to arrive! Forget that your smile looks like a lipless, toothless maw that no man would ever want to kiss and your face a lumpy mass of flesh no one would ever want to touch. Just remember that for some strange reason, Nadir is your friend and he enjoys your company. Now, wipe away those tears and go greet the only normal person you can name as your friend."
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The man tugged nervously at the black astrakhan cap on his head and then picked a non-existent piece of lint from his morning suit coat. He turned sideways in the mirror and scowled at his reflection.
"When did I become so … so round?"
A soft snort and stamp of a hoof insinuated itself into his depressing physical inspection. He turned and demanded indignantly.
"Well?"
A whinny and shake of a tail acted as answer. The man frowned until his body received a not so gentle shove in the shoulder from behind. He turned to watch his friend's reaction. With a toss of mane and another stomp of hoof, the man's frown slowly melted away into a bemused smirk.
"So, you think it is not too bad?"
The bray and rapid head shake seemed to satisfy the man.
"Very well. You have never been wrong, so I will trust your judgment about this. It is just that … oh, well, I have never worn a suit before. She is bound to realize that I am up to something. Hmmm …. Perhaps that would not be such a bad thing after all."
He turned to glance at the grandfather clock just as it began to strike the hour.
"Oh! Allah preserves us! It is time! Come, Edgar! We do not wish to be late, do we?"
A snicker and head shake seemed to answer the man's inquiry.
The man gently wrapped his fingers around the halter's cheek strap and brought himself up to his full height. He placed his hands carefully over the mule's eyes and then closed his own.
"To Helen. Now!" He spoke quietly.
The man and the mule became transparent; their images wavered for a moment and then blinked into nothingness.
The clock finished announcing the hour and the empty room was silent, but for the ticking of the pendulum.
¹ "Prenez-moi, Erik! Maintenant!" – Translation: "Take me, Erik! Now!"
² "Tu êtes ma petite verrou de foudre!" – Translation: "You are my little bolt of lightning!"
³ "Merde, ça c'est trop fort!" – Translation: "Shit, well I'll be damned!"
Additional Disclaimer I am not a trained instructor in the Alexander Technique. I have a very basic knowledge of its principles. Please do not mistake my fictional representation of the Alexander Technique as authentic. I make no claim of ownership of the Alexander Technique or of its principles.