Hehehe! Naughty Naughty Christine! And oh, poor tormented Erik! :D I hope you enjoyed my last chapter, and my dear readers, this is where I need to begin to state my rated M rating. Please be advised from now on sexual situations shall be cropping up! Nothing too drastic…or will it? This chapter shall be mostly written in Erik's perspective, but of course, I must have Christine's as well. Hehe! Please rate and review dear readers, more you tell me what you like or dislike, I will write faster and more in a way you enjoy! Thank you! Happy reading!

PryingPandora

IX.

New Experiences

Erik:

His heart hammered in his chest, the very thought of her knowing of his presence a breeze fanning the flames of his lust higher. Watching her turn from the mirror of her vanity to stare at the sheet of glass behind which he stood, and slowly rising to her stocking clad feet to glide toward the mirror was almost enough to rip his resolve. Her breasts peaking out above the lacey top of her bodice, the round globes highlighted by the sensual lighting. Her creamy thighs clad in lace stockings, her tempting hips rolling as she approached the mirror. His resolve amost crumbing at the sight of her.

Oh Christine you don't know how you torment me.

His hand, almost as if on its own accord reached over and flicked the leaver, sliding the mirror open, baring his form to Christine.

Christine:

Her outward confidence a shell to hide the quaking child inside. As she padded over to the mirror after speaking aloud, trying to be as cool headed as she possibly could.

As she watched the mirror door slide open she could not contain her slight gasp of breath at the sight of her Ange's form. Looking into his cool green eyes she felt her face flush, a child like response from having seen his wanton look across her skin.

You should have known what your semi-nudity would have done to him! Ignorant, no going back now, just get him to speak to me, her mind chided.

Falling to her knees she clutched at his pant leg, her face cast up to him in pleading. She could sense his shock at her unusual action. Burying her face into his pant leg like a child she pleaded for him to listen to her. She could feel the tension in his body radiating off him in waves. Tears cascaded down her face, dripping gently off her chin.

Suddenly he stooped low, grasping her under her arms gently, pulling her to her feet. He continued to tower over her, his form masculine and exciting, They stood almost chest to chest, her legs shaking at the way he was looking at her.

She felt as if her heart was to burst, his green eyes gone stormy, roving over every inch of her skin, making her knees quake.

Had he never seen a woman like this before, no..surely he had…right?

Reaching a gloved hand, he gently brushed a tear from her cheek, the contact causing a spark to sizzle across her skin. His touch gentle, yet commanding as he wound his fingers through her hair, pulling her to his broad chest gently. Automatically she snaked her arms about his waist, feeling and hearing his heartbeat thunder against his ribs. They stood like that for a while, his hands rubbing up and down her back gently, his hand still caught in her hair. Tenitively she spoke, her voice almost like a soft lark song.

"Forgive me Master, my soul was weak, and I spoke to whom you despise so much. The events of tonight were difficult to comprehend. I was frightened, and should have sought you out instead of another. Please forgive me."

Slowly the hand caressing her back slowed, she could feel him settle his face in her hair, cheek resting upon the crown of her head as if in thought. She could feel his warm breath caressing her scalp, her heart skipped a beat. Though the wait for his response was only a few seconds, it seemed like an eternity. At last his voice crooned softly to her, his voice husky,

"Oh Christine, if only it was that easy. What I had seen, will never be erased, how could you let that vile.."

Slowly he pushed her from him, gently taking her arms from around him and stepping around her. His hand covering the good side of his face. She stood there shocked, her arms limp by her sides, confusion written all over her face. She could see his torture, his hurt.

Turning he slid his coat from his shoulders, twirling it once and draping it across her shoulders, then turning from her, agony written on his features.

The coat engulfed her, but it warmed her chilled skin, warming her with his latent body heat. Turning her head she inhaled, taking in the scent of him. She watched him cross the room to sit at her vanity table, his long legs stretched before him, his head cradled in his hands. His sorrow and hurt cut her to the bone, her heart feeling as if it hit the floor. And then she realized what he had thought and she timidly padded over to him, grateful for the cover his coat provided.

Shaking she slid to her knees in front of him, her hands trembling. Gently she slid her hands over his, still causing him to twitch slightly. Pulling softly she replaced his hands with hers, she marveled at the texture of his exposed skin, warm and supple compared to the cold unfeeling porcelain just opposite. Slowly she tilted his face so she could gaze upon his face, his eyes fluttering open, the emerald pools clouded with pain and doubt.

The look in his eyes stabbed her straight to her heart, almost causing her to cry out in anguish, wishing, hoping, praying that she could balm his pain. To make it right again.

Letting out a shuttering breath she steadied herself for a second before speaking, her voice nasally from crying.

"Oh Mon Ange….you do not think? Please do not look like that Ange, I-"

Softly his hand cupped her chin, his thumb sliding over her bottom lip, effectively cutting her off. Staring at her lips he spoke gently, his voice somehow like a broken man's.

"Christine, I know not of love. I am a man bred of hate and violence. But I know two lovers when I see them. You…and the Vitacome, have that same look. I saw with my own wretched eyes the look he gave you, his filthy hands touching your sweet face. I fled, like a coward. I could not see that which I could not, and can not bear."

Softly he removed his hand from her chin, and brushed her hands from his face. She could see the pain in each breath, the labor that it caused him. Her heart screamed at his accusation, yet in the deepest part of it, it fluttered, knowing her Maestro loved HER enough to be pained so. His accusation caused her to lash out, tears flooding her eyes, her voice growing thick,

"Maestro! Oh no! That is not what happened at all! I beseech you to listen Ange…I promise that what you believe did not happen."

Shaking his head silently he began to stand, she threw herself at him, tears wildly streaming. Her voice shrill like a scared child,

"Please Sir! Do not leave, please….listen." Her tear stained face upturned to him, gritting his teeth he sat back down, upright and away from her still. Softly, "Thank you Maestro".

Her body quaking underneath his soft coat, she told him what had really happened. Her voice raw with emotion as she fought to make him understand. Slowly she saw his heart begin to soften once more, his face less sharp. His eyes lost that stormy look to them and he gently caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand, the soft leather gliding across. Closing her eyes she just gave into her senses, his touch almost like an intoxicating brew in conjunction with the scent of him and the warmth of his jacket.

His voice soothed her raw emotions, his voice reassuring and once again her Maestro,

"Oh flattering child, I see I was wrong. I am sorry for accusing that which I could never have known. Thank you dear Christine."

Opening her eyes she gazed into his, the green pools shifting colors, like multifaceted emeralds. The world seemed to have stopped, and they were the only two who knew it. Just for a moment the intimacy was almost stifling but she could not care less. She could gaze into his eyes forever, her heart squeezed in a panic.

Was this what love really feels like? That the only one who matters in this world is he who sits in front of me? That he is all that matters, more than life, more than I more than anything in this universe?

Erik's

As he stared into Christine's gentle doe eyes he watched her take on a distant look. He smiled, always daydreaming was his Christine.

As he sat there, he mulled over what had actually happened between his Christine and that damned Vitacome….

She had…refused him? Did that mean she may love me? That such a tormenting beauty such as her could possibly love a beast as me?

The thought of torment brought back the memory of Christine, dressed in almost nothing…the light of the candles caressing her creamy ivory skin. He shivered and cursed himself for thinking such inappropriate things. He just let his mind ponder what he was going to do now that his earlier plan had been destroyed…what to do with DonJaun? Suddenly he smiled, a new plan hatching in his brain, one that would delight Christine, and show his claim on her.

Gently he stroked her lip with his thumb, aching to remove the leather to feel her skin, to know it's softness.

Focus!

Shaking his head slightly he gathered his wits about him,

What is it about this gir-woman that transforms me from a cold, calculating, logical man into an air headed clown?

Crooning, he used his magic to coax her back out of her daydreams, her eyes slowly returning to their sparkling nature. Her eyes searched his, and it made his heart beat faster to see her lips curl up and a faint flush stain her cheeks.

"I apologize Ange…you caught me daydreaming. I hope I did not miss something important?"

He laughed gruffly, amazed that he could still laugh. His voice soft, soothing, almost seductive called to her as he continued to look into her eyes and caress her lips.

"The Bal Masque is upon us sweet Christine. Do you have a suitor to bring you?"

He waited upon pins and needles to hear her response, even though he knew the most likely answer. She blushed yet again and attempted to turn her face from his gaze, gently but authoritiatively he shifted her face back. Her voice was soft and tinged with embarrassment.

"No Maestro…I…I was hoping….."

She let her words trail off, her embarrassment almost tangible. With a hearty laugh he released her face. A satisfied smirk crossing his features.

" Then you shall go with me. I have already planned my colors, as I was already going to attend. The main color shall be red, so dress to match Christine. There is much preparation to do before tomorrow night. We shall skip our lesson tomorrow, as not just I have some preparing."

Slowly he began to rise, but the feeling of Christine's soft hand upon his shoulder stopped him, and the thoughts that were whirling around his head. Her eyes were glistening in the light, her mouth, so pink and voluptuous, just inches away. He had more than once been kept awake at night wreathing in his bed beneath the Opera House dreaming of how her lips might feel against his, how they would taste. He knew she was in the middle of saying something, but an unsalable urge gripped him and he brashly gave in. Cupping the side of her jaw he leaned in, capturing her top lip between his then softly released it, when she did not flinch or pull away he captured the her soft lip once again. His heart hammered in his chest, and he reveled at the softness of her lips against his misshapen ones. Sliding his hand into her hair he began to kiss her once again, sloppy as they were she did not seem to mind. As the innocent kisses began to get more fevered he could feel the situation swiftly spiraling out of control. Gently he untangled his hands from her hair, both breathless they stared at one another, disbelieving that the other actually cared for them.

Regain your composure you fool! That was rushed, sloppy, and ungentlemanly! Ignorant Idiot!, his mind chastised, but his heart overrode his mind this time.

Slowly he rose, his breathing still unsteady, his heart bursting with feelings he had not yet to understand. Looking down upon her he almost beamed with pride, her eyes were slightly glazed with lust, her cheeks flushed and her soft mouth reddened from his kisses. Cloaked in his coat he felt a surge,

MINE

Extending his hand to her he helped her up, noticing that her legs were shaking. He smirked, pleased with himself. With a faint smile on his lips, his voice husky,

"I must go Christine. It is late, you need rest….and we both need to prepare for Bal Masque. I will meet you here in your dressing room. Be ready and waiting by the mirror promptly. I will escort you. Goodnight sweet Christine."

Still grasping her hand from when he helped her up, he brought it to his lips and brushed her knuckles lightly. Gently letting go he smiled and lethely stepped back behind the threshold of the mirror. Pausing for just a second to take in Christine, cloaked in his coat, her face flushed and a bit dazed, softly illuminated by the candles. A smile creased his lips and he flicked the switch, shutting the mirror once more.

From behind the mirror, where her wandering eyes could not see, he staggered back, placing his back against the old stone. Gathering what had happened this night together, uncontiously he swiped his fingers across his lips, a ghostly reminder of the passion they had shared. Deliberating just for a second longer then turning, stalking down the corridor with a step that he had never had before.

So much to prepare for, so much to do for you….my willing Christine.