Christine awoke first to notice two things: she was not in the guest room and she had not been sleeping alone. Somewhere in the night, she had shifted onto her side and curled her body into Erik's. He was still asleep on his back, and she'd been resting her head on his chest.

She lifted her hand to press against his body; she only wanted to feel him. The planes of his torso were hard muscle, dusted with hair as dark as that which covered his head. Christine shifted to sit up, careful not to wake him, and she touched Erik's hair. Black and thick, with a slight wave to it. She smiled, thinking how handsome he was, even with half of his face marred forever by his mother's crazed violence.

'Not that that matters to me!' she thought. 'I like him the way he is.'

She couldn't explain why, but she was compelled to explore Erik a bit while he was unaware. Christine wasn't under any delusion- Erik had told her himself that he'd seen her dancing in the club, she knew damn well that he'd seen her body, and now she had her chance to see his.

Christine lifted the covers just a little, to look at Erik's stomach. It rose and fell evenly with his breathing and did not have as much hair as was on his chest, thankfully. She smiled wickedly, wondering what he would do if he should wake up and catch her "inspecting" him. His lower half was covered by the lightweight cotton pants he had worn to bed; if she could just…

A large, quick hand captured her wrist just as her fingertips had moved the waistband over his left hipbone. "What do you think you're you doing?"

Startled, Christine whipped around to face him. His bright eyes were open, his expression was amused and teasing. She felt the heat of shame and embarrassment flood her face. "I was just-"

Erik smiled, "I know what you were doing," he said as he took the covers back from her, "But no free shows until we come together- you wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, would you?"

Apparently Christine didn't answer fast enough, for Erik grasped her wrists and pressed her down onto her back, allowing his body to rest half atop hers. She laughed as he tickled her waist and smiled as he lightly kissed her neck. His weight pressing her into the bed was arousing to her, and her flushed face only gained a deeper blush as he grazed her earlobe with his teeth.

Erik could feel the change in her breathing as playfulness was swiftly met with desire, and he moved to plant light kisses on her neck, her jaw, her cheek and finally, her lips; her full, soft, pink lips. He looked into her eyes and smiled as he began to stroke her golden hair.

It was strange to Erik to be in bed, half lying atop this beautiful young woman and not to have known her body.

He knew that the time would soon come, and the anticipation was enough to make his mouth water, but Erik could not be the one to take them there. It would have to be Christine. He understood her better than she might have thought. She had been…violated by that thing her mother had married. Erik could hate Rebecca for what she had done, but the woman had been beaten into a coma and was slowly dying in a lonely hospital room- he only hoped that she would meet a quick end, all the better for Christine to move on with her life.

As for that bastard, Michael Downs had stolen more than just Christine's virginity; he'd taken Christine's ballet career, he'd taken her mother, he'd taken her hope for any happiness in the future.

That man had taken her; Christine had never made love to a man.

Erik was determined to earn the right to be her first, in all the ways that mattered.

He would deal with Downs later, what man wouldn't?

Christine moved against him slightly, testing what it felt like to be so close with a real man. This was miles away from the dirty groping in the back rooms at Mama V's. There were no strobe lights or private dances, no dollars being waved to entice her; no propositions, splashing alcohol or strict rules- "Keep your hands at your side, you can't touch me, security is watching."

No.

Early morning sun was coming in through the windows, the room smelled of fine cologne, clean linen and man. It was safe here, warm and quiet. This was nothing that she had experienced before. Intimacy. Tenderness. Humor. Teasing.

Christine smiled and for a while they simply looked at each other, absorbing the face of their lover. She touched Erik's cheeks, both scarred and not. She traced his hairline as he laid his hand in the valley between her breasts. It was a bold gesture, and Christine felt her flesh tighten in response, but Erik did not touch her.

She felt shivering gooseflesh come over her body as his hand moved forward to delicately tap the V of her collarbone. The sheer gossamer of her nightgown had been chosen as a direct taunt to him, Erik knew. Somehow in the night before, they had begun a game of who could better tempt whom.

It was as fun as it was frustrating. Erik had rarely indulged his more playful mistresses' games in the past.

Christine was different from the rest; she was a mistress he'd felt compelled to protect, she was the first to have ever shared his home. He had not taken her, but her circumstances were different than any he'd ever encountered before.

If the game was still going, Erik was angry with himself for he was surely losing. Christine beneath him, writhing slightly, her body barely concealed in the flimsy lingerie…

This is sure to lead to trouble!

Erik kissed her again, and then rolled away, to lie on his back beside her. He stared up at the ceiling and smiled with a contented sigh, willing away the evident arousal of his body. He had self-control, but he didn't want to scare her.

"Where do we go from here, Christine?" Erik asked, his eyes still on the ceiling.

She raised a brow, "What do you mean?"

He turned to her. "I liked having you with me last night, but you don't have to sleep in here if you don't want to."

She laughed, "You're kicking me out already?"

Erik smiled, "I'm not kicking you anywhere, but if you want me to…"

Christine shrieked in laughter as Erik's bare feet met her hip and he began to push her towards the edge. "Agh! Oh, God, Erik, your feet are freezing!" She laughed. Christine held on to his ankles to keep herself from falling off the bed.

"I know, I should wear socks to bed the next time you sleep with me." Erik mused happily, though he did not stop the slow, inexorable pushing against her hip. Christine seemed to have a way of bringing out the silliness that he usually kept hidden behind his more serious personality. "Now maybe you'll think twice before giving me a challenge? You know now that I won't back down,"

Christine pushed back against him, though it was no use as he was much stronger. She smiled and lifted her chin in defiance. "Oh, yeah? Well, I never back down either!"

Erik laughed. "Well, then here's a challenge: you make breakfast. I'd like crêpe Romanoff with cinnamon and powered sugar, a yogurt parfait, Charlotte Russe, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and a cappuccino," he rattled off easily.

Christine's jaw dropped and she stilled, giving Erik the opportunity for one final push.

She landed on the floor, laughing. Erik moved to look over the edge of his bed, only to find her on her back and giggling hysterically. Christine reacted quickly, gripping Erik's forearms and pulling him down to the floor with her, catching him off guard. He landed just beside her and smiled.

"The floor? It's not so bad down here. Just a bit dusty, I'll vacuum later," he said nonchalantly.

Christine sat up and crawled over him. "I have to get started on breakfast," she said, throwing him a defiant look over her shoulder.

Erik stood up and went after her, "I wasn't serious about that breakfast, I usually just have coffee in the mornings,"

She shook her head, "Hey, I never back down from a challenge, remember?"

Erik nodded, and Christine went off to the kitchen.

For once, Erik did not have the proper ingredients for such a lavish meal, and so Christine had to concede her defeat for the morning. Erik only laughed and kissed her; he did not issue any other challenges.

The pups ate a breakfast of dog food, while their masters dined on scrambled eggs and coffee. Christine glanced down at them, "I should take them out for a walk,"

Erik nodded. "I'll go with you, but let me change first,"

Christine smiled, "I have to change too," she said, gesturing to the chemise nightgown she was still wearing.

Erik tilted his head to the side, drinking her in with his eyes as she rose from her chair and crossed the living room. The sunlight coming in from the wall of windows lit on the sheer white of her gown, rendering it practically transparent.

He swallowed at the sight, and tried to push the image from his mind.

No, no, no, she is too much, that girl. She is cunning and innocence, temptress and purity, different sides of the same coin- my God, I love her!

The realization hit Erik, but it by no means disturbed him. He only knew what he had always known all along: he had to protect, provide and care for Christine in any way he could.

She was his now, and nothing would change that.

"I have to go back to the strip club,"

Erik felt the world tilt beneath his feet. He felt dizzy for a moment and nearly dropped his creamed coffee. They had just stepped out to Central Park for the dogs, and she'd recommended that he try something a bit lighter than his usual.

He quickly shook off the shock of her words, and fixed her with a bold glare. Christine almost cringed at his expression- the bone white mask he wore only intimidated her further.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He demanded.

Christine raised her hands and took a step back from him, "Erik, I don't mean to go back to dancing! I just meant to let management know that I was quitting. Plus, I have to give that dress back to Tawny. She'll be wanting her shoes back too."

He let out a breath of air, "Oh, thank God,"

She swatted his arm, "You think I'd ever want to go back to that? Jesus, Erik, you can be really thick-headed sometimes!"

Erik shook his head, "I'm well aware of my faults, thank you very much, you just gave me a start."

"I didn't mean to," Christine soothed, and looped her arm through his. "I probably should have explained myself more fully. Anyway, I really do need to give her things back to her. Out of all the other, um, dancers there, Tawny's the only one with half a head on her shoulders."

Erik glanced at the pups as they played with the other breeds in the dog field for a moment, and then turned back to her. "I'm glad to hear that you aren't the only one in that place with a decent mind,"

She nudged his ribs, "Just decent?"

"I meant to say brilliant, of course,"

"Of course!"

Erik cleared his throat. "Yes, well. This hasn't been one of my best investments, but it's brought us together so I can't complain,"

Christine laced her fingers into the end tassels on her scarf, yet another of Claudette's thoughtful accessories. They had changed into jeans, sweaters, and boots for the outing. Erik had complimented her attire, and Christine wondered if she would ever get accustomed to always being, in her opinion, so elegantly attired.

Somehow, Claudette's expertise had elevated a simple pair of dark jeans and a plain pink sweater into an outfit that looked like it belonged on a catwalk runway. Christine simply wasn't used to wearing such beautiful things, let alone being complimented on them!

Christine took a moment and watched as Snow began taunting the Pomeranian she recognized from the other day, and the two of them began to chase each other, while King, as usual, was trying in vain to assert himself against a fully grown Doberman. "Erik?"

"Yes?"

"How did you get involved with the strip club? I mean, it's none of my business or anything, but it just doesn't seem like something you'd be interested in,"

Erik shrugged beside her. "Well, it's not such a secret, really. I've done a bit of business with people over the years, always trying to diversify. A few years back, I was doing some business in New Orleans and was shown the city by one of those hired guides. I was introduced to May, who owned a few clubs already. She was in the market for a New York location,"

"And you helped her?"

He shook his head, "No, not then. We kept in touch for awhile- I only fed her real estate reports and gave hints for good locations to lease whenever she was ready. Her clubs in New Orleans were all destroyed in the hurricane, and she decided to move here for a new start and she took out a few business loans to open up the location here. I'm her sole investor, but now that I have you with me, there's no need for either one of us to set foot in the place ever again," Erik finished, bringing her into his arms.

Christine nodded and smiled against him as he held her. He couldn't possibly understand what it meant to her to know that he had given her a chance to escape that lifestyle. The relief, the freedom from the pressure of her mounting pile of bills, the calls from debt collectors and the demands of a lusting audience…

'Erik, my champion, I love you!' she thought with a great sudden swell of happiness, and she stood on her toes to kiss him, right there in front of the whole of Central Park.

A few hours later, Christine had had Tawny's little black dress- the fourth in her famous collection- dry cleaned and her stilettos were polished to their classic chic sheen. She reentered the apartment with the key that Erik had given to her, and held up the dress on its hanger to show to Erik, who was lounging on the sofa with a favorite novel.

"Isn't this beautiful?" Christine asked. She'd been so nervous the night she'd worn it that Christine hadn't taken the time to truly appreciate the drape of the garment, the weave of the ebony silk.

Erik looked up, but he did not appear impressed. "I like you more than the dress. Which car would you like?"

Christine frowned, "Car?"

"When you drop off the dress. I can't have you walking or taking the subway, it's not safe. I should have had a hired car bring you to me before, while you worked there, but I never thought…well, what difference does it make now?" Erik seemed to be talking to himself for a moment, but he stood and reached into his pocket to withdraw two sets of keys. "For your last trip to that place, you should travel in style."

He set aside the keys to his Range Rover and handed her the second set.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Your other car?"

He nodded, "It's a more suitable vehicle for a woman, I think."

She smiled, "Why? Is it pink?"

Erik shook his head, and winked. "No. Think more Bond than Barbie. Have fun."

Christine could not have attracted more attention from the city than if the car she was driving had just won the NASCAR cup. Erik had meant what he'd said about Bond, for his second car was an awe-inspiring Aston Martin Vanquish S. Upon first seeing the beast, Christine's jaw had dropped and she'd been speechless.

The car was pure sex.

A V12 engine rumbled quietly beneath the hood; the car's body was sleek ebony with the barest touches of chrome. It was a work of art, truly a thing of beauty. Christine felt power charge through her, a feeling of invincibility surging throughout her body.

It had been so long since she'd had such genuine fun!

Christine smiled and cranked the stereo a few levels higher, just as her favorite song hit the airwaves. Lenny Kravitz rocked his rendition of American Woman, and Christine began to sing along, feeling strong and sexy behind the wheel of her man's fantastic car.

The Aston's wheels ate up the city streets, but the car was unhappy with the traffic, and all too soon Christine found herself talking to the car, just as her father ad done all those years ago back home in Colorado.

She reached out to touch the dashboard and cooed, "Hush, car. Don't worry, if Erik is nice, maybe he'll let me take you out for a real drive someday,"

Christine couldn't help but to laugh at herself for being so ridiculous as to talk to a car, but if she wasn't mistaken, the engine did seem quieter for the rest of the trip.

It was a strange thing to see the club through her new eyes.

Here Christine had endured constant humiliation and had felt her will reach its very limit. Here she had come begging for a job that would pay enough to keep her mother in good care, and she had earned every last dollar by exposing her body and making the men believe that, with her smiles and sensual expressions, that she not only enjoyed writhing across the stage for their viewing pleasure, but that she was aroused by it.

The sex industry is no different than any other business, be it corporate, music or artistic.

Everything was an illusion.

An illusion that Erik had broken.

Christine shook her head and took off her sunglasses. The bright afternoon sun shone at her from every direction, and she took a deep breath. "Enough is enough, just give Tawny the dress and then get the hell out of there," she muttered to herself as she killed the engine.

She ought to have known that nothing was meant to be so easy.

As Christine was crossing the parking lot, heading for the rear employee entrance, two men appeared before her, emerging from in between the other cars on either side of her.

"Christine Daae, we'd like to ask you a few questions,"

And so Christine's newly found happiness was ruined in the golden glint of a policeman's badge.