Ch 61 Choices

How does one turn off one's body? The mind can keep busy with a variety of diversions, and even if it does sneak back to its original pre-occupation, can detour around that most undesirable of thoughts.

But not the libido.

Once the chemicals in one's brain decide that the body needs a bit of the good stuff, it will not rest until the genitals receive what they crave the most; relief from direct contact with that particular person of ones desire. The aroused adult body simple will not rest until its' lusts are quenched, even if that person should happen to be hundreds of miles away.

So I holed up in my room and paced, and then I wrote, then paced some more, then wrote some more. I stared out of the window and my eyes were drawn to the area near the stables. Erik was busy splitting wood. His back was to me and I could see his muscles straining beneath a sweat soaked shirt. Finding no relief from my desires, I turned once again to my writing. The article for Harpers Bizarre was to be about the unfortunate shift from the Socratic belief that women were as intelligent and able as men were if, only they had afforded the same educational opportunities, to Aristotle's misogynistic ideas about the intellectual caste system. Does owning a phallus truly make men the superior sex? I posed the question to the reader Now, all I had to do was write what I knew in a manner both palpable to the nineteenth century scientific findings and the forward thinking Victorian mind.

And I had to stop thinking about Erik's hands.

Those smooth palms and lithe fingers with the dexterity of a snake, a beautiful exotic snake slithering over my cheeks, jaw and neckline down to my breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh of my belly before dipping below to what Erik named Gabrielle's secret garden of delights.

I'd not noticed when the sun slunk away from the sky until I realized I could no longer read my manuscript.

My, let's light the lamp lest you need glasses before your time dear, I doubt that there is an eyeglass world with fashionable designer frames or contacts anywhere near here.

I lit the little kerosene lamp on my writing desk and turned up the wick high enough to illuminate the immediate area by the desk and bed.

After reading the article for the fifth time, I decided it was the best I could do and prepared it for delivery to Harpers.

I sat back in the cane back chair and ran my hands through my loose hair. My stomach grumbled in protest of being empty.

Look, last time I fed you, you sent it back, remember? I scolded my stomach. Instead of going to the kitchen, I chose to get up and wash my face.

Before Marie and Henri left for their holiday, she filled my picture with fresh water and provided clean linens. I filled the bowl and dipped part of a face cloth in the water. I dragged it over my face and body, finished up with the witch hazel that I now used as a cleanser and astringent, and applied a dab of moisturizer to my face.

Might as well hit the hay, I'm unusually tired, I told myself. On my way to the armoire, I stripped off my day dress and re-hung it, but kept on my chemise. I often preferred sleeping in the soft cotton shifts to the scratchy winter nightdresses. Even though it was September, the nights hadn't been especially cold, not requiring me to sleep in heavier clothing.

Before I had the chance to climb beneath the covers, there came three quick raps on the door connecting my dressing room to Erik's bedchamber.

"Gabrielle, you've been in there all evening, would you care for a bit of food dear? I've a plate of pate and biscuits to share it with you."

I padded over toward the sound of Erik's voice, intending to decline his kind offer without having to opening the door. Before I made it over to him, the monster in my belly growled again.

"Sure Erik," I sighed. If I let him in here, I might rape him. I wanted him in the worst way and when the horny monkey sings, all sensibility and pride, fly out the window.

C'mon Gab, you're an adult, remember the bitch club back in Chicago? That was the acronym my girlfriends and I used for Babe In Total Control of Herself.

The brass latch on my dressing room door clicked quietly and when I turned on it. I opened the door and there stood Erik holding a smile on his lips and a silver tray of pate in his hands. He wore nothing but a smile and a black and red silk robe.

"Entré Monsieur," I smiled.

"Merci, Mademoiselle. Where shall I place this?" he said referring to the silver tray and bottle of Chablis.

"On the table between the settee and the chaise, you can move that vase of roses; they're nearly done for anyway."

"I'd say so; you'll have to replace them tomorrow. The Queen Mary's will continue to bloom until the first hard frost."

"That's nice, I enjoy their large blooms and pungent fragrance," I said making small talk.

Erik moved the crystal vase from the sofa table to the desk. I noted that he was most careful not to put it on my writing that was scattered about the desktop.

"Burning the midnight oil I see?"

"Harper's needs the piece for next month's issue. The deadline is next week."

"Why did you not ask me to proof read it for you?"

"I figured you were caught up in your work, plus preparing for your short trip to Paris and all. I didn't wish to bug you."

"Gabrielle, dear, you never bug me when you ask for my opinion. I am a good editor and I like helping you with your work."

"Next time then?"

"Please, seek me out or I shall be deeply wounded," he teased holding a hand over his heart.

We sat down to eat the light repast, Erik on the settee and me on the chaise. Conversation skirted the issue of his trip to the city and of Christine and our wedding; we'd said pretty much all there was to say on both sides of that coin. Instead, Erik and I chatted about his partner's ideas to market their architectural firm in other countries, the unusually warm fall weather and of how Europe's avant garde liked my writing.

Thankfully, my stomach remained happy with what I'd giver it and showed no signs of regurgitating it.

With the wine drunk and most of the pate eaten, we stumbled over conversation before I noted that my bedside clock read half past midnight. Rather than sit on my hands or bring up an unpleasant subject, I feigned a large yawn, stood and bid him good night.

"Thank you for the food, I'd forgotten to eat, you know how it gets when you're wrapped up in your craft."

Erik nodded in agreement, "Indeed I do; it's no secret to you that I can go for weeks on end without so much as a crust of bread if you did not insist I take in some sustenance." He smiled affectionately.

"Remember, bite, chew, swallow and do it again." I laughed at the method I'd devised to feed Erik when he could not be torn away from his music.

I walked with him to the dressing room door, "Good night Erik," I stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

"Good night my darling," he said returning my kiss.

Then, just inside of the door, Erik hesitated.

"Gabrielle, I recognize my impotence in managing the complications of love; seeing Christine again—as you know, I've been quite unprepared for the ensuing tangle of emotions. Uncountable times during this past week, I've ruminated over my actions. I treated you with the utmost insensitivity haven't I?"

"Yes, you have. You can appear callous when dealing with a situation that is alien to you, but ignorance aside, you are not a stupid man Erik; you know all too well what rejection feels like."

Erik rested his hand on the crystal door knob; his eyes took on the anguish of a man accused of a most grievous crime.

"I continue to profess my love for you, yet, how can you believe? Tell me Gabrielle; is it a betrayal for me to harbor affections for another?"

"Not necessarily. I've told you before; I comprehend your conflict. If you are going to Paris to put to rest that which haunts you, I shall wait; but if you're thinking maybe you'll want to marry her instead of me, you can kiss my sweet bootie good-bye—I will not wait!"

"And you should not. You have given me much to consider."

For many moments, all I heard was the tick from my bedside clock counting off the seconds.

Erik cleared his throat and glanced off to the side before turning back to me.

"Please, dear, understand how imperative it is that I see to my business in the city, part of which is putting to rest my friendship with the Comtess de Chagny."

I clasped my hands together in front of me and bit my cheek in an attempt to suppress wide-eyed surprise at this shift in Erik's intent.

"You are an exceptional woman and your anger toward me is palpable. Forgive me, Gabrielle."

With those words, the tall elegant man before me bowed his head and backed out of my room, closing the dressing room door with a faint click.

What was that; an apology, an admission, a discretionary judgment or declaration? Once again, I was alone with my thoughts and my need.

I plopped down on the bed and finished the glass of wine in my hand. The tart beverage worked to relax my tension and my defenses.

Hearing Erik denounce Christine certainly does swing things back my way. So, is it now okay for me to slake my lusts upon him? What if, when he goes to tell Christine avoire tomorrow, she bewitches him with her charms and he changes his mind?

Suppose this is the last night I will ever have with Erik. Does my going to his bed make me weakling? What if I deny my desires; will such actions deem me a righteous woman?

Suddenly my alter ego, the good Gabrielle was back and whispering in my ear, "sure thing missy, go to Erik and he'll think that you're demon possessed, first you reject him with your high and mighty resolve, and then you slink into his bedchamber for some late night dessert."

Sheesh.

"Horse-hockey," bad devil-girl Gabrielle quipped in my other ear; "Erik's just a man, he won't care if you turn colors as long as you give him a ride on the Gabby-go-round. Give the man something to remember you by. Sex with him is better than chocolate, now up off of your sorry ass and collect your parting gift."

Oh Hells bells, carpe diem. I decided to toss pride and caution to the wind and indulge in the ecstasy that is his touch, his body, his love.

Hastily I placed the wine goblet on the side table with a chink, and jumped from the bed.

Whether or not Erik remains mine for all time, I cannot say, but for tonight, he will be mine, I declared facing the mirror. I applied a dab of perfume and headed to his bedchambers.

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Love is strange and so is Erik, not insincere, just, well, Erik…Please review.

XXOO Leesa