I was wretched after my failure under the Opera House. I'd wanted to see something, anything, of what had been twenty-odd years before. I was also disappointed because–like an ass--I'd harbored an idiotic fantasy that the Phantom would appear, offer me a glass of Merlot and answer all my questions. 'Of course, my boy, perfect stranger, son of my rival, and ugly bastard, sit right down and I'll lay bare the most painful experience of my life, just because you asked.'
The questions I most wanted answered Father either couldn't or wouldn't answer. Who else was there? I was convinced that Erik was still out there, somewhere, but I wouldn't find him without his consent, no doubt. I had to find a way to flush him out. I had no plan, no idea of what to do next, but I became agitated if I wasn't doing something toward unraveling the mystery of Mother and the Phantom. While I blundered around searching for inspiration, I promised myself that I'd return to the Opera House cellar once a week and wander aimlessly, just to feel as if I was making progress.
-0-0-0-0-
For his birthday, Philippe decided to buy himself a commission in the army. It was a Chagny sort of thing to do; not that I've ever considered it. Even if they would find my carcass suitable cannon fodder, I've been threatened with a gun enough to have lost all my romantic notions about it. Lili mentioned casually that Philippe intended to be engaged before he left, and I went berserk. I strode into the big house with little Lili scrambling behind.
"Philippe! Philippe!"
"Gaston, lower your voice!" Father emerged from his study, appalled at my shouting. Philippe appeared on the landing. Our relations had thawed somewhat, but he was still wary of me.
"Get down here, you fuckwit!" I ordered.
"GASTON! For God's sake!" Father blasted. Lilli clutched his arm.
"What do you want?" Philippe seemed calm; he knew what I was raving about.
"You can't marry her!"
"That's not your concern!" Philippe insisted, descending the staircase.
"Oh, you think not? It is if I say so!"
Philippe landed a glancing blow on my jaw. I heard Lili screaming and crying, and Father ordering us to stop.
"Mother was--"
"Will you shut up about Mother! This isn't about Mother!" I interrupted.
When Philippe came at me the next time, I was better prepared and caught him with my elbow. I felt his nose give way, but he kept coming in spite of the blood and pain. "Stay out of my life, Gaston!" He leapt at me, knocking me to the ground. I felt my ribs crunch when I hit the floor. Philippe landed with me, and I started kicking at any part of him I could reach. I had him at a disadvantage quickly; I'm built bigger and he's never had to fight to save himself from a pounding as I have.
"Get off my son, you animal!" Father pulled us apart. As soon as I got to my feet, Lili urged me toward the door.
Philippe yelled after me. "We're not finished, Gaston! Do you hear me? I swear–"
Shit. SHIT. I dragged myself home and fell on the bed. As long as I didn't breathe too hard, nothing hurt. I put myself out with cognac.
-0-0-0-0-
I was dreaming of Lucie. Her hair tickled my face as she kissed me and whispered my name. She was crying; I could feel her little tears falling on my cheek. A tear trickled down toward my ear; I reached up to brush it away, but my hand bumped into something and I came awake with a start. I winced and groaned. My head was pounding; my ribs were stabbing.
"Gaston..."
I opened my eyes. She was no dream.
"Are you going to marry him?" I whispered.
"You told me to marry him," she cried softly.
I pulled her down and made her stretch out on top of me. It hurt like hell and I didn't care a bit. I snatched her blouse up, hungry for her skin under my hands. "Do you let him touch you? Does he touch you like this? Do you let him kiss these breasts? Does he suck these nipples?" I demanded. I drew her skirt up and kneaded her thighs and bottom roughly. I drew her up, pulled her along by her skirt. "Get up, get up here." Lucie clambered up my body gently. I pulled her legs into position and she knelt straddling my head. "Does he kiss you here? Do you let him do this?" I wriggled my tongue at her and she scooted down to help me reach. I traced her plump little lips before the tip of my tongue darted between them. I penetrated her repeatedly and she whimpered with long-denied pleasure. My tongue slipped north to stroke her joy button; she pulled my face tight against her muff and rocked her hips, forcing the tempo. Lucie's legs began to tremble. She was forced to release my head and clutch the headboard to hold her balance. I wrapped my arms around her thighs and held her all but motionless. Her weeping was of a different kind.
"No-no. No," she pleaded, but she didn't mean it. I held her fast until she collapsed forward against the headboard.
"You can't rest now, Lucie. I've got a surprise for you; get on it," I laughed.
"I will," she panted. My lusty Lucie.
"Take your skirt off; it's in the way. I want to watch." Lucie undressed and proceeded to help me out of my trousers; I groaned and winced. "Ribs; your goddamn fiancé tried to kill me," I growled.
She raised my shirt and made sympathetic noises at my bruises. "Oooh, poor Gaston," she cooed. "Shall I kiss and make it better?" Without waiting for my enthusiastic response, she soothed my ribs with cool kisses. Her lips tickled my abdomen; her tongue traced curlicues around my navel, lower. She took a firm grip on my shaft and slithered between my legs. I felt the most incredible sensation; it took a second to realize that she'd taken my entire sac into her mouth and was sucking on it ever so gently. How she managed that with her little rosebud mouth I'll never know, but I nearly shot my bolt on the spot. She ran her tongue slowly up to the sweet spot just under the head and gave it a few maddening flicks. The cool air on my sac was a startling, but not disagreeable, change from the warm, secure feeling of a moment before. She placed a prim little kiss on the tip of my prick, looking up at me with huge, innocent eyes.
"You'd better not tease me," I warned. Her lips encircled the head lightly and sucked me up hungrily. She worked me vigorously with mouth and hands; I knew I wouldn't last long. "Lucie, when I tell you let me cum on your breasts."
"Mm."
Presently, I forced my eyes open and looked down at her little head bobbing up and down on my big nasty vein, and that did it. "Lucie, now, now!" It was a violent finish, the kind where I felt my whole body pour out onto her breasts. My little pigeon knew her job and massaged the cream into her skin with relish. I pulled her into my arms and fell asleep, reveling in my scent all over her.
-0-0-0-0-
I did not see my brother before he departed. I didn't go up to the main house, and Lili didn't come to fetch me. I don't know whether it was Father or Philippe who stopped her. Under the circumstances, I accepted that it was for the best.
Mother and Father often took us to the seashore when we were little. It held pleasant memories for them, and it came to do so for me, too. I found myself thinking of the shore a lot during those first weeks after Philippe left, and I decided I wanted to take Lucie on a little honeymoon. I instructed her to tell the head housekeeper that she'd gotten word of a distant relative at death's door; she would need a few weeks off. It worked beautifully, despite Lucie's reservations. We found a small, quiet inn out of the main flow of humanity and a relatively secluded stretch of shoreline to play on. She couldn't really swim, but I taught her enough to get by; anyway, she splashed around more adorably than anyone I've ever seen. I'm sure the few people around were horrified by my appearance, but I never noticed any staring or gasping. I was oblivious to everything but Lucie.
We settled into a routine when we returned. Lucie stayed with me most nights, even though she had to rise early to get back to the main house. Over time, I learned that she could barely read. I began teaching her, and she made fair progress. It's difficult for adults, I guess, and I'm not the most patient creature. Perhaps Lucie wasn't the brightest little tart in the world, but she was incredibly devoted to me. I don't know why; of all the men in the world, God knows she could have done better. She looked at me the way Mother used to.
I resumed my raids into Paris with Victor and Rene. Lucie wasn't happy about it, but I was not about to let my idiot friends or Lucie think that I'd slid without protest into some version of domestic bliss. I savored my life as a roué and had no intention of giving it up, no matter how tempting the enticements to do so.
"Gaston, you were gone for three days!"
"Don't whine, Pigeon, you're not my wife. Anyway, Gaston brought you flowers."
"If you knew how I missed you–"
"It wouldn't make a bit of difference. When it's time for me to go, I go."
"Gaston–"
"This is how it is, Lucie. Shut up or get back to the main house."
-0-0-0-0-
My weekly forays under the Opera House were as unproductive as ever, but, again, it gave me the illusion of progress. I finally settled on an idea that was a long shot, but as good as any I'd had. Actually, it was the only one I had. I put an advertisement in the theatrical trade papers–I assumed that a mad recluse wouldn't care about the general news–in the hope of luring the Phantom out.
ERIK: I HAVE YOUR MUSE'S BOOK OF SONNETS. REPLY HERE TO ARRANGE FOR ITS RETURN. DON JUAN
I waited.
-0-0-0-0-
Toward the end of the year, Lucie turned insufferable: clingy, demanding, weepy, everything unpleasant, except she still rode me like a mad bitch and sucked my bones out through my prick. Avoiding her only seemed to make it worse. Previously, the threat of abandonment would have put her on her best behavior.
I was nearly asleep after a marvelous, energetic session when my sweaty little pigeon--still peppering kisses all over my chest–murmured: "You could still go to Paris as you do now if you married me, Gaston. Nothing would change."
"What? Of course something would change. I would be married."
"I know I still please you…"
"Oh, Christ, not again…let me up." I started pulling on my clothes.
"Please, Gaston, just marry me. Please, please," she was nearly hysterical. How stupid I was.
"Lucie, you're begging, and it's disgusting. Stop it or get out."
"But I love you, Gaston! Please--"
"Then don't mention marriage again." I took myself to the stable and slept in a horse blanket.
-0-0-0-0-
Philippe came home for the holiday. My mood had gone to shit sufficiently that I wasn't about to subject myself to a 'family Christmas'. I had not gotten a single bite from Erik on my trade paper ad, and I was on the outs with both Lucie and my family. I spent Christmas and New Year's at Zizou's with my whores. I shagged myself raw, stayed drunk and still managed to win eighteen thousand francs. If I could only stay sober, I know I could take over the world.
Lili must have been watching for signs of life, because she was at my door within an hour of my return. "We missed you," she kissed me and handed me a gift.
"Mm, I didn't relish the thought of being pummeled again."
"Mother would be sad to know how it is with you two."
"Mother is gone, Lili, she is very much gone. Stop trying to make me feel guilty."
"Gaston, please don't be a pill tonight."
I pinched her nose and gave her a real hug. "Here, Little One, happy belated Christmas."
I poured us wine and sat to guess at my gift. "Hm. Gorgeous woman ready to do whatever I command."
"Perfect," Lili applauded. "And on the first guess. My brilliant brother." It was a cozy, warm scarf of burgundy wool.
"Lili, you didn't knit this with your own dear little hands?" She nodded proudly. I kissed her palms. "I will treasure it, Little One. Thank you."
"And I hope this is my perfume," she guessed.
"My brilliant sister. Not particularly original, but…"
"No, Gaston, I depend on it each year. And I think of you each time I use it. Thank you."
"Soon you'll have a new fragrance, chosen by your lover, and poor Gaston."
Lili gasped, "My lover! Gaston!" She blushed and giggled, "You're outrageous!"
"Thank you, I've tried to apply myself."
She rested comfortably on my shoulder. "So, we were presented with Philippe's intended. I can't say 'met', really," she said after a moment.
"Oh?" I asked, tightly.
"I don't think Father is pleased, but of course he won't say anything."
"Bugger what Philippe says, it's a totally different situation to Mother," I jumped in.
"Gaston, I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the fact that they're in love."
"She's not in love with him," I blurted out.
Shit. There was an endless silence.
"How can you be so sure of yourself, Gaston?"
"She's a kitchen maid, Lili! She's passably pretty, and our stupid brother makes puppy eyes at her…she's out for what she can get," I flubbed my way through.
"You shouldn't judge people so, Gaston," she murmured.
"Right, when are they–when does it happen?"
"Philippe will be home again in April or May; I think then. She doesn't want a big to-do."
"Hm."
"You should make an effort to be friendly to her, Gaston. It would go a long way with Philippe."
"Hm."
She decided to change the subject. "So what did you do for Christmas?"
"Same thing I always do–only I did it much more festively." I raised an eyebrow at her. "Would you like a new horse, Lili? I won a lot of money, and I really don't need anything."
"No, but thank you. Why don't you put it into finding a decent woman to take care of you?"
"A decent woman would run screaming into the night–"
"You're impossible. I think I'm going to have all my friends to tea, and insist that you join us," she mused.
"How many are we talking about, now? I've only ever been to bed with three at one time."
"Gaston!" she shrieked. Then, in a conspiratorial whisper: "Gaston, whatever would you do with three?"
"Someday, I will tell you. But not today."