Paladin109
"Wait."
Anne Giry froze at the sound of Erik's voice. She stood on the threshold with her back to him and her posture stiffened. "Yes, Monsieur?"
Erik hesitated, unsure of why he'd called her back into his chamber. Perhaps it was a need to revisit an old yet neglected friendship. Perhaps it was the desire to repair what had long been broken. Perhaps there was no reason or answer.
"You're leaving yet you don't know where you'll travel?" he questioned.
"What does it matter?" she questioned softly, pathetically.
It annoyed him that she feigned innocence and bewilderment, that she desperately sought his sympathy. He assumed that she knew precisely where she would travel next. Perhaps she even had an apartment somewhere and employment waiting for her upon arrival, though while she could draw out a moment of pity, she would savor it.
"Sophia will worry," he answered as he studied her and wondered when she became a manipulative woman, groping for his sympathy. He couldn't understand why, of all people, she'd want his pity—or why he felt inclined to give it.
Defeated, she sighed. "Not for long. She does have so much on her mind."
"Even so, do you wish to distress her?" he questioned.
"Of course not," she snapped.
"What will you tell her when you leave?"
She turned to face him. "What does it matter? You don't want me to meddle in your life, do you? You'll have what you want."
"What I want is for Sophia to be happy," he answered.
Her face paled. "Is that what you want?"
"Yes. Of course."
"How thoughtful of you."
"You come to my room in the middle of the night merely to insult me?"
"No." Her lips formed a hardened scowl. "That isn't at all why I came to you."
His mouth went dry but he dismissed her expression and tone of voice. "Then why?"
"Surely you're not that innocent, Monsieur. After all, I was in the wings during the sole performance of Don Juan Triumphant, and naturally I was in attendance for every rehearsal."
"What does that have to do with knocking on my door at three in the morning?"
"It's a very passionate opera, Monsieur, which many will never understand. I, however, understand passion and its need for release."
He hadn't realized that he'd backed away from her until he felt his calves press against the bed. "I'm working on a different opera now, one which concerns true love rather than deceit."
Her smile turned poisonous. "Let me guess the storyline. A wealthy estate owner inherits an orchard and with it the right to seduce a servant girl."
His heart pounded, breaths turned ragged. "Do not mock me! I love her," he answered firmly. "And I will not tolerate your insinuations that my affection for her is…is lecherous in nature."
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "Keep your voice down."
"It's my home. I will speak as loudly as I wish."
"And I suppose you will love her as you loved Christine?" she hissed.
His breath caught in his throat at her scathing words. "I realize my mistakes."
"Do you?" she challenged.
"I left Paris alone with the smell of a charred building on my clothing." He blinked, his heart continued to pound as he thought of the stage and his opera gone awry. He hadn't thought of Don Juan Triumphant much since he'd arrived at the Manor. His life's work seemed just as insignificant and hellish as his existence, and to put it behind him was a blessing. "Yes, Madame, I realize my mistakes," he added softly.
"You never realized how much you had within the opera house."
He stared at her. "I knew precisely what I had. Complete solitude day after day."
She grunted. "It didn't have to be that way. If you had come to my apartment rather than Christine's, everything could have been different."
The bluntness of her words, though anticipated, still came as a surprise. He looked away from her, still unwilling to accept what she said.
"Why would you want this, Madame? With your career, your daughter, your friends. No one would have ever allowed you into their circle of friends."
"You don't know that."
"I know how the dancers talk to one another, how the managers would have reacted—" How they did react when they saw me on the stage, my mask cast aside…
"I'm still human," she said under her breath. "Still able to feel love and loneliness. We were both lonely, Erik. We just never confronted one another as I am now. Please, if you would only listen."
"I am listening, Madame."
"Call me Anne. I insist."
"Madame…Anne," he stammered. Her given name held far too much formality than he felt comfortable with now, but he felt the need to appease her. "If what you've said is true then you realize what I feel for Sophia," he said, surprised at his sudden calm. "And how grateful I am to know her."
He braced himself for another onslaught of insults, but she said nothing, which was almost as surprising. For several awkward moments they avoided each other's gazes while Fidelio's tail beat against the floor and counted the seconds.
"Why Sophia?"
He knew she really wanted to ask "Why not me?" But he didn't understand how she could have ever harbored feelings for him. They knew one another, but he'd always kept his distance. Deep inside he'd always feared falling in love with her and taking advantage of the charity she'd shown him years ago. It was better to stay away from her than risk bringing her harm. Now he realized it was what she'd wanted—and he felt nothing for her.
"Because she talks far too much, she listens to what she finds romantic, and she doesn't make me feel like an angel."
"What does she make you feel like?"
"Like a flawed man who must earn her love. Please, Madame—Anne—I am in love with Sophia, genuinely in love with her."
"How do you know you're in love with her?"
"Because it feels like nothing I've ever experienced before," he replied. "And as much as it frightens me, I still want to experience it, every single second of it. For the rest of my life."
She still refused to look at him, but she smiled wanly and sighed. "Yes, that does sound like love."
-o-
Citrine fanned her reddened face. "Stop, just stop. I can barely breathe."
Sophia sat at the edge of her seat and frowned. She'd spent almost an hour in her closest friend's home, listening intently to all of the information Citrine provided on the wonders and horrors of the male body.
"I don't understand what's so funny. I only want to know what fills it to make it bigger."
"Blood, Sophia." She opened the book again. "See? It says right here that the male sexual organ becomes engorged when a man is aroused." With an ear to ear grin, she held up her index finger and laughed.
Sophia wrinkled her nose. "Perhaps I've learned enough for one night."
"I'm only stating what the book says, but I wish it had more pictures."
Sophia's eyes widened. "More pictures?"
"Of course."
"Of what?"
"You know what! This is only showing the flaccid state. It changes size and shape, you know."
"I'm not that naïve, Citrine."
"I'm serious. It gets bigger."
"Bigger?" she said with a nervous chuckle. In the pictures this thing had looked more than adequate. "How much bigger?"
"Depends on the man."
"Well, what's the biggest?"
"That I've seen or the biggest it gets?"
"The biggest it gets, please." She feared knowing far too much about Citrine's rendezvous.
"I'm not really sure. Maybe twelve inches….perhaps a little longer."
If she hadn't been sitting down, Sophia was certain she would have collapsed. "Now that is a jest if ever I've heard one. That's almost as big as a horse, isn't it?"
"It's about the length of this book's spine, as a matter of fact. Perhaps even as thick as the spine's width."
Her mouth went dry as she attempted to imagine the book stuffed down Erik's trousers. The image was far too much and she broke out laughing. "Now that is definitely enough for today."
"Who do you think Monsieur Belmont will consult over these matters?"
Sophia sat back and closed her eyes. She was afraid that Citrine would ask this. "I have no idea."
"Do you think he knows about…well, you know." She shrugged. "I don't mean it as an insult to him," she added quickly.
"I don't know. I never asked him."
"Well, I'd ask Gabe to speak to him but it wouldn't do any good. The two of them are on the same very blank page when it comes to the female anatomy."
With a feeling that Citrine was about to divulge more information than necessary, Sophia sat up and rubbed her eyes. "In about an hour I'm going to regret not sleeping at all."
Citrine gasped. "You naughty girl! Staying awake all night to ogle dirty pictures!"
"You said it was educational!"
"It only became educational when you shared it with me." Citrine smiled slyly and wiggled her eyebrows.
In return, Sophia rolled her eyes. "I'll remember that for next time."
"Good. I was hoping there would be a next time."
Sophia pecked Citrine on the cheek. "Thank you for telling me everything and not just saying this was none of my business."
"Well, it may not be your business just yet, but it will be some day, and I can't imagine your aunt giving you much more information than close your eyes and do your best not to scream when you first see him naked."
"Is it worth screaming over?"
"Well," Citrine said. "Only if you're lucky."