"Good Morning, Erik! I'd nearly given up on you. You wouldn't be able to account for our dear Comtesse, would you?"
I'm not sure what color I turned, but my face felt about to burst into flame.
"I believe she's still asleep." I wasn't able to look at him. I felt like a child being asked if he'd stolen a chocolate.
"Ah. And how did you sleep?"
"Why?" I growled.
"Why? Erik, I've asked you how you slept at every single breakfast since you've arrived. Now, today, you ask why? It's the polite thing to do; have you forgotten?"
"No…no."
"Are you alright, Erik?"
"Of course. Why?"
"Again why," he chuckled. "Oh, because you're pushing your food around your plate, you're fidgeting, and you're late for work."
"I'm late for work? I'm late for work!" I gulped the rest of my coffee down. Shrugging my jacket on as I dashed from the room, I nearly knocked Christine off her feet. She looked like a disheveled goddess. Her hair was carelessly tied up and her tiny bare toes peeked from beneath her dressing gown. Oblivious to Reza, she wrapped her arms around my neck and wrung an upstairs sort of a kiss from me. It was alright; the moment I saw her, I was oblivious to Reza as well.
"I wish you didn't have to go today," she whispered. She was so much more beautiful than I'd ever seen her, because she was actually mine. I wanted desperately to go back upstairs. I told her so and she offered me her tinkling bells laugh.
"Don't be late," she suggested.
"Oh, don't worry," I laughed. I turned to say goodbye to Reza, but he'd made a discreet escape.
I wasted no time in making short work of it in the afternoon and getting my bony carcass home. Imagine my horror when a herd of water buffaloes stampeded from the parlor just as I was trying to get in the door. I was convinced there were at least twenty; I later learned that there were only ten. I suspect the fat ones threw my estimate awry; there were a few fat ones. I flattened myself against the wall and let the herd roll by. Trapped as I was, I made a bit of a study and determined that Christine is every bit the extraordinary creature that I have always believed her to be. She truly is the most exquisite woman in the world. I decided to share this epiphany with my Persian friend directly.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Thank God you're not serving tea to that herd of bison, Darius."
"Good heavens, Erik, is that a smile? Take off that mask, you charlatan! What have you done with Erik?"
"Of course it's a smile. Today is a marvelous day. The buffaloes are leaving, tomorrow is Sunday, and just this afternoon I've confirmed beyond any doubt that Christine is indeed the most beautiful woman in the world. Thank you, Darius." I dunked a sweet biscuit in my tea.
"Not that I'm disputing your claim, but how did you happen to arrive at your conclusion?"
"Just a bit of scientific observation as I was pinned to the wall, awaiting the stampede's end. Several of them were bigger than the three of us men put together; there was one that had teeth like an Alsatian dog; and another that had a mustache rivaling yours, daroga. For a moment I thought it was you being carried along with the herd, but then I noticed the hat: it looked like a big blue wedding cake, so that let you out. Where the devil is my little darling, anyway?"
"Just before you came, Madame Comtesse said she and the ladies were off to distribute leaflets, and not to wait dinner," Darius murmured.
I stopped crunching my biscuit, the better to hear what I was about to ask Darius to repeat.
"What?"
"Just before you came, Mad—"
"Yes, yes, god's blood, I heard you the first time. Did you know about this?" I glared at Reza.
"Yes; I heard her when she breezed in," he replied.
"Well?" I demanded.
"I'm sorry…well what?"
"Well, did you forbid her going?"
"Forbid her going? Me?" the daroga chuckled. "Oh, no, my friend, not me. You forbid her, if you like."
"And I would have done, had I been here. What sort of friend are you if I can't count on you forbidding her this ridiculous behavior when I'm otherwise engaged?"
"Erik, Christine is not mine to forbid anything."
"But you're another man in the house, and you can speak for me—she knows she's under your protection when I'm gone. She'll listen to you as she would me. I can't believe you didn't say anything!" I was spluttering like a wet chicken.
"So Christine will listen to you, then?"
"Of course. I mean…" I colored slightly and lowered my voice. "I realize I'm not her lawful husband, but…"
"That wasn't what I was referring to. I mean, if you were to forbid Christine going out with her ladies and handing out leaflets, do you mean to say that she would abide by your wishes?"
"Of course she would. Why wouldn't she?" The conversation was baffling me. I was beginning to think my friend was going senile.
"Erik, have you been paying any attention since Christine's been here? Do you think all this women's suffrage talk is just…talk? I believe she's quite serious about it, and I don't see how you can possibly imagine that she's going to stand for you ordering her about, telling her what she can and cannot do."
I caught his arm. "Come along, Reza." I didn't want to have this conversation in front of Darius, or anyone else. We slipped into the parlor, which still reeked of dozens of floral notes.
"Reza…I didn't want to take this up in front of Darius, and of course I'm relying on your discretion."
"Certainly, Erik, what is it?"
"You see, Christine and I are…last night, we began a rapprochement over this pure and noble love…thing." My friend lit up like the Opera House chandelier.
"You began a rapprochement? What does that mean, exactly?"
"You know," I emphasized, meaningfully wriggling my eyebrow.
"Oh. OH! Erik, congratulations, my boy! Heavens, I feel I should buy you a drink, offer you a cigar!" he shook my hand obnoxiously.
"You're rattling my bones. My arm's about to fall off."
"Sorry, my boy. Oh, this is delightful!" He refused to stop grinning like a simpleton.
"Well, I don't know that all this celebration is in order yet…if you'll notice, I said we had begun. Technically, I am, ah, only slightly less virtuous than I was this time yesterday," I qualified.
"So I was right, then."
"About what?"
"That if you had her, you wouldn't know what to do with her," he reminded me.
"I don't suppose it would occur to you that a man might wish to approach his beloved respectfully, savoring the experience?"
"No, it would not. You're terrified—"
"I am NOT!"
"--and the lady is leading you by the hand."
The invisible lasso in my hands was tingling, longing for his hateful neck.
"Don't fall asleep around me, old man, or you'll wake up swinging."
I told Darius that I would take a cold supper later with Christine. I didn't want to keep company with that old fiend; it forecast nothing but indigestion. I had rather enjoyed the bath last night, and since I had waiting to do, I fetched a book and went for another soak. I was, ah, up rather late last night…so I dozed in the fragrant foam. I dreamed Christine was stroking my cheek, and kissing me sweetly, and whispering my name…
"Erik…"
Right, my eyes were open. I was in the tub, which I believed was where I was when I dropped off. But the room was lit with candles and it seemed that Christine was in the tub with me.
"I'm still asleep."
"Nooo," she promised.
"Then you'd better get out, my Dear…because…" Christine leaned forward against my chest. She'd managed to squirm her tiny self between my legs. There was getting to be less room available there with every passing second.
"Erik, your hands…remember?"
"Oh, yes, I'm sorry, Angel." Silly me, I hadn't quite realized we were at it again. Christine doesn't even let a man come to his senses. She kissed me urgently.
"I've been thinking about this all day," she confessed breathlessly.
"So've I, my Angel. I missed you when I returned home." I briefly considered lecturing her about the leaflet-passing-out thing. Very briefly.
"Erik…" she guided my bony hand somewhere it had never been, which would have been sufficiently unnerving, but then she took a corresponding step with her own hand.
"Oh my dear, Christine, are you quite sure about this?"
"Quite sure. You don't mind, do you?"
"No…no, but I'm feeling out of control again."
"You'll feel still more out of control before I'm through with you. Let's get out; the water's cooling, and besides…I want to show you something."
Well, it was impossible to refuse that suggestion. We made our way to bed, where she encouraged me to continue my explorations. What a symphony of sensation she is, what a miracle. I don't know what HE did wrong, but if Christine wanted to train me to her own satisfaction, I wasn't about to stand on pride; I had no problem whatsoever with it. I was still unclear how all this fumbling fit in with pure and noble, but I decided to let the question be for the present. She wasn't feeling talkative anyway, and I was less capable of speech the longer we carried on.
Presently, I found myself very much in the right place at what seemed a most opportune time, when the next thing I knew, Christine was squirming away and promising to be right back. No, no, no.
"Wait a moment, Erik. Here, I just need to…" Wait for what?
"WHOA. What is that, and what precisely do you think you're doing, Madame?"
"It's called an English riding coat, and it stops me becoming pregnant."
"You're damned right it does." I was no longer having any fun at all.
"We just have to, ah—"
"And how do you propose to do that, exactly?"
"Well, it has to get…as it was before, Erik."
"Right, well, you've scared it off, brandishing that nasty thing."
"Oh, how do you know it's nasty? You've not tried it," She fussed.
"It looks nasty from here. I don't have to try getting thrown from a speeding train to know I'm not much for it, and I'm not much for that thing, either. Send it back to England," I groused.
"Erik!"
"Christine, what is the point of this exercise? Why should I bother?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Touch my hand, will you? Here, just take your finger and touch my palm. There, feel that?"
"Mm hm."
"Right. Now, stick your finger in that thing and touch my palm. Feel that? Feel anything? Am I making my point?"
Christine made a thoughtful, dejected face.
"I still think it would be pleasant, Erik."
"Compared to what?" I demanded.
"Compared to something you've got no knowledge of, that's what!"
I threw myself down on the bed and drew the sheet up over my head. "I cannot believe we're arguing now, Angel. That is the last thing I want to do."
"Well, I don't want to argue, either, but I also don't want to have any babies just yet."
"Will you please, please come over here? Just let me touch you, Christine. It's enough, truly, to hold you and touch you," I traced her brow, her nose, across her cheekbone, her jaw, ran my thumb across her lips. She kissed me, easing me down. Her eyes were those of a lover once again.
"It isn't enough for me," she declared.
>
"Erik…" It was morning; my little Angel was kissing me awake. She'd brought me a tray of coffee and toast, imagine that. I had a sip of coffee and burst into a flood of tears.
"Oh my love," she sympathized, cradling my hellish death's head against her incomparable breasts. "What is it?"
"I just can't believe this, Christine. I keep expecting to wake up. When you went away with him, I thought I would die, and I never imagined—"
"But there's no need to imagine, is there? It's real…and I'm so happy, Erik."
She got me over my crying jag by luring me into another bout of our new favorite game.
Much later, I had the presence of mind to ask her what I'd been wondering ever since she'd permitted me to take liberties…or she'd taken liberties, I'm not sure which.
"Christine, you remember when you first came here. You said that you were leaving Raoul because you didn't like being married."
"I remember." It was extremely difficult for me to carry on a conversation with her, because she seemed bent on distracting me with a seemingly endless repertoire of kisses and caresses.
"I didn't think we'd be getting up to any of this, frankly. You said you didn't like it, you said it would be different if you and I were together. You said my love was pure."
"I remember."
"It's rather contradictory, isn't it?"
"Not to me," she replied tightly. "I felt like…one of those harem girls you've told me about. Raoul was busy with his pursuits all day and told me about it all over dinner. I was expected to be fascinated, regardless of what it was about, and then it was time for me to be his little playmate. Did he ever ask me what I'd done with my day? What I had thought about? Well, you can't ignore me day after day and then expect me to greet you passionately. It was ugly, and it hurt, as I told you—it hurt in many ways. It is different with you, Erik. You've always cared about what I think and what I do. When we touch, I know it's me you're touching. It's beautiful and noble because you recognize that I'm a person. To me, my body and mind are all connected. With you, I feel that I'm with my partner, not my master."
"So I don't hurt you, then?"
"No, you don't hurt me."
"I'm gratified to hear this. I love you, Comtesse."
"I love you, Angel of Music."
"Would you like to sing today?"
"I would love to sing today! Erik, life is good."