This chapter gets very adult – you are forewarned.

Music:

NightSwimming by REM: watch?v=ahJ6Kh8klM4

Piano cover of Crazy train watch?v=Km3aWX56zrk

Chapter 11

It didn't take long for word to reach Erik about the attempt to bug Christine's apartment. He highly doubted Christine would have called him, but Meg was caring enough about Christine's safety to call her mother. When all was said and done, Marie was an employee of the foundation as was Christine and anything that affected the opera was his business.

"She refuses to call the police, Erik. She says the notoriety would only make matters worse. I happen to think she's right."

"Where is she right now?"

"She's still at home. I would have offered to let her stay at my home but it's being renovated right now. I'm staying with a friend. Meg has roommates." Marie paused, "I'm open to suggestions here."

"I'll call you back."

He'd wanted to reach out to Christine for a week and a half now, ever since the debacle of Halloween. Instead, he had been a coward. When the video of them made the news, he figured the best thing he could do for her was never talk to her again. That he had left her fending for herself amid a media storm of their own creation hadn't escaped his notice. He only hoped that it would go away if ignored. He was foolish to think it would be so easy. The guilt overwhelmed him and he longed to make it right.

The phone rang, once, twice. Would he have to send Garret there just so she would pick up her phone and talk to him?

"Hello?" She said, her voice weary.

"Christine, thank you for picking up." It was so good to hear her voice again.

"Why are you calling, Erik?"

"I'm sending Garret to you in twenty minutes. He's coming to take you to my place until this story blows over. I have 3 extra bedrooms. You can have all the privacy you need. I won't bother you, just please let me help you."

She let out a dry laugh on the other end of the phone. "Always my hero, huh? Let's try that speech again and this time make it sound like an offer and not a demand."

Erik sputtered inelegantly. She had said as much on Halloween. "You're right." He paused, considering what he needed to say, "I'm so sorry – for so many things. I'm used to having my demands met. It's not an attractive quality. Please, Christine, Marie told me about the recording device. I'm afraid for your safety and I would like to offer you a safe place to stay. Can I send Garret to come get you? You can stay as long or as short as you would like. Or, if you don't want to stay with me, let get you a hotel; though I caution that the odds of you being found at a hotel are much greater." He tried to convey as much as he was able how important her safety was to him. He waited for several breaths for her to answer.

"Fine. Thank you. Have Garret come get me."

"I'll see you soon."

How had he come so far in just two short months? Back then, he would never have invited her to stay in his home, his domain. How would he survive with a stranger in the house having to wear that mask all day long? He could barely stand the irritation after a three-hour outing to a nightclub. Perhaps his doctor could recommend something lighter that was less likely to irritate his skin. It had been years since he'd even discussed options. Anytime Reza had the temerity to mention the research he had done on the topic; Erik had shut him out. After a while even his best friend stopped trying.

There didn't seem a point, being out there. His world had been enough. When did it stop being enough? He paced his apartment restlessly, at loose ends as to what he could do. He should order her dinner but other than Vaselka's, he didn't know what kind of food she liked. He would wait until she arrived. Which guest room would she like? He was found of the one that faced west but it was next to his room, and he didn't want her to think he had expectations.

And what about his schedule? Would he be able to focus with her around? Would she expect to be entertained? Erik tried to remember those early relationships from high school and college. He practically lived with a girl the summer of his sophomore year, but those memories were so long ago as to be highly unreliable.

He had worked himself into such a state that by the time Christine arrived his primary goal was to escape her presence as quickly as possible. Based on her body language, she wished the same.

"Thank you for hosting me, Erik." She had a small duffle bag and rolling suitcase. She looked like she had aged five years in the past two weeks. Her light blue eyes were ringed with bruises, suggestion that sleep had been in short supply. "Where would you like me?"

"There are three spare bedrooms. You may pick from any of them. I like the one on the river. It has the best view of the sunset." He walked her to the wing of his apartment with the living quarters. Each room had a king-sized bed and in suite bathroom. When she showed no aversion to the bedroom he recommended, he showed her how to use the shower and television. It occurred to him how ill at ease they both were with each other. He dearly would like to know her thoughts right now!

"Can I order you some food? Sushi? Italian? Whatever you like."

"Thank you – that's kind of you. Honestly, I don't have much of an appetite right now. I kind of just want to go to bed."

"Of course. My room is right next door. Please wake me if you need anything."

She nodded absently. Whatever was going through her head right now, she had shut him out completely. He respected her wishes and left her to her own dark thoughts.

The next morning Erik followed his normal schedule. It was a Thursday. That meant breakfast, work, music and then swimming. She hadn't woken by the time he went to his office but at lunch he saw the evidence that she had been awake when he found a crumb covered plate in the sink. He was glad she was eating. Distantly, he heard a shower running. He considered waiting for her to emerge, but he didn't want to hover. She knew where to find him if she wanted to talk.

When he finished his swim, he found her drinking a glass of wine at the glass top table in the main room. She was flipping through her phone with a miserable look on her face.

"Did you have a good swim?" She asked when she saw him dressed in trunks and a long sleeve rash guard.

"Not particularly. I've been worried about you."

She nodded at his comment. "I opened one of your bottles of wine. I hope that's okay."

"Of course. You can help yourself to anything. Can I get you something to eat?"

"What goes well with this wine?"

"With that wine?" He considered the bottle of Opus One Chardonnay she opened. "Everything goes well with this wine. How about some pizza?"

"With sausage?" She gave him a shy smile.

"Consider it done. Is it okay if I join you?"

"I'd like that."

A shared pie and two glasses of wine later, Erik and Christine were still dancing around each other with shy tentativeness.

"Marie thinks I should work from here for the next couple of weeks, until things die down."

"Let me know if there is anything you need. I can have Garret pick it up for you."

"That's nice of both of you. I'll need my work laptop."

"You seem worried. Can you tell me what you're feeling right now?"

She didn't answer right away but stared at the dregs of the wine in her glass. "There's a lot going on up here. You sure you want to know?" She pointed at her forehead with her forefinger.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

"I'm feeling pretty violated by the bugging incident. So, there's that. Starting a feud with the world's most successful pop star was not on my Bingo card for the year. I'm thinking about my thesis defense and how I'm going to get to Columbia without being noticed. That private entrance through your garage helps though. I'm feeling nervous about my career prospects. After Halloween I figured you wouldn't want me to work for Gardner anymore…" She was getting emotional, her eyes glittering in the dim evening light.

"What do YOU want, Christine?" He asked softly, undone by the sight of tears unshed in her eyes. "What can I do?"

"I'm not sure if there is anything to be done. I suppose I want to fast forward through this period of my life. Mostly, I'm just afraid right now. I'm afraid all the work I've done will be for nothing. If that's the case, I have to make my peace with the fact that the future I get will look very different from the future I'd planned."

"I know a thing or two about that."

"Tell me about it." She looked at him. "Please."

Erik sighed. "Let's move to the couch. These chairs make me feel stiff." They were momentarily distracted by the logistics of moving their drinks to the living area. Erik turned on the fireplace and the light bounced off her hair. It hit him like a physical blow just how beautiful she was.

"My parents fell in love in college. I was told there was a love story between them by people who were there at the time, but I never got to see it. My dad died when I was three years old so my memories of him are vague. I remember someone rough-housing with me - but was that him? I don't know. After he died, my mom got bitter. She was constantly trying to control everything, especially me. She always said I had a horrible temper. She's not wrong, I do, but sometimes I have the feeling that her constantly telling me how angry I was made it a self-fulfilling prophecy. Or maybe not. It's not fair to blame her for my temper anyway. I'm not a kid anymore."

"The one area that my mom and I got along about was music. When I showed aptitude for piano she brought in the best teacher in the area for twice weekly lessons. At five, I was being forced to practice an hour a day. At six, it was 90 minutes. I didn't mind. Every time I learned a new skill or mastered a complex piece, she would complement me. She would brag about me to her friends. I was put in the competition circuit at eight years old. Anytime I came in less than first she would seem so disappointed that I would redouble my efforts. I got very good."

"You play beautifully."

"Thank you. She was biased towards classical music, and I would sneak in jazz or pop music when I knew she was out of the house. If ever I heard her walk in, I would immediately switch to something she deemed appropriate. After a while I got resentful. I was still a normal kid. I wanted to play video games. I asked her if I could sign up for baseball and soccer and even when she eventually agreed after MUCH begging, I was told not to expect her to attend any games or practices. Unless I was extraordinary at something she deemed acceptable, it was beneath her notice."

"So, what do you do when your mother won't pay attention to you unless you are her little angel?" Erik asked Christine.

"I'd probably raise a little hell. Is that what you did?"

Erik nodded. "By the time I was 12, I was starting to get tired of being her show pony. Anything that went outside her desires for me was ignored, disregarded, or lambasted. So, I started causing trouble. I'd play pranks at school. I made 'questionable' friendship choices. I would skip piano lessons. When I did play, I played the music I wanted to play."

"Questionable friendship choices?"

"Ask Reza, he loves to tell that story."

"How did she respond?"

"She got colder, more aloof. It was a game of chicken. She withheld and I acted out and she withheld more. I got into a fight at school and broke my nose. She made me sit at the nurse's office for two hours while she was at the spa finishing her facial." Erik saw the look of dismay on Christine's face.

"It came to a head about a month later. We were driving to a competition, and I put on the radio. I had recently gotten into REM's album, Automatic for the People, and the song Nightswimming came on. Do you know it?"

Christine shook her head.

"I'll play it for you sometime. It has this beautiful piano arrangement, very simple but surprisingly complex to play, especially for smaller hands which at the time mine were. It's hard to get your hands in the right position." Erik held his hands up in a mime of the position necessary. "It's really beautiful in its simplicity and I was humming along to it, kind of copying the chords on my thighs as we drove."

"Mom turned off the radio and snapped that I shouldn't be listening to such garbage. It felt like a rejection of who I was. I was furious and I was just…done. Do you know how that feels?"

"I know how that feels, Erik." She said quietly, and she was staring at him with such understanding that he felt his eyes well up slightly. He coughed and blinked away the moisture and continued.

"When we got to the recital, I was just livid. I was 13 years old, and I had been playing piano for 8 years. It felt like that was all she would ever see me as. So, when the called my name instead of playing whatever song my mother picked out, I started playing a piano version of Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne."

Christine's eyes widened and her hand covered her mouth. It took Erik a moment to realize that she was trying not to laugh and failing.

"Oh my God. I would have paid good money to see that! You were at this fancy pants event - please tell me you made the 'aye aye aye' sound?"

"I wish I had." He admitted, getting caught up in her glee. He had gotten in so much trouble for that stunt. Why had no one else seen the humor?

She was laughing so hard Erik could see tears pour out the corners of her eyes and then he joined her. It felt incredible to laugh like that, long and loud. It was physically healing and draining at the same time. In time, the laughter died out and she waited for him to continue.

"How did she respond?"

"Well, I never had to go to another piano recital with her again. I didn't even touch a piano again until my senior year of high school."

"You said you understood what it was like to have your imagined future fail to emerge. Did you think you would play piano professionally?"

"No. I knew my destiny was always meant to be in business. I inherited controlling interest in my father's company. I genuinely like the work; but my first love was always music. For a long time, I denied that love because I associated it with my mother's disappointment and control over me. I denied something that gave me joy in order spite her. Then, when I was older, I would go to the city, and I rediscovered my fascination with playing. I didn't want my mother involved. Eventually, she found out about it when I placed particularly well at a local competition. She reached out and tried to make peace with me and fool that I was, I let her back into my life."

"That's not foolish - she is your mother. You were hoping for a reconciliation."

"But nothing had changed. She would cheer me on when I played but any time I tried to engage her in anything else she would fail to show up. My senior year of college I was named president of my fraternity and it was a big deal. I asked her if she wanted to join me for the formal banquet. This was usually the event that members took their partners to, but I wanted her to come. I wanted her to see that I was respected by my friends and classmates. She said she would be there and of course she didn't show. After the event I drove two hours to confront her. She admitted she had never intended to join just to see her son made king of some silly social club."

"I told her that she was a terrible mother. I told her that if I ever had children, I would be sure to be there for every stupid little milestone they invited me to. I would cheer them on like they invented the cure for cancer. I thanked her for teaching me everything I needed to know about how not to be a good parent. Then I left and I was so angry. My temper has always been my downfall. I got into a car accident and…" he lifted his hand to his face, "I woke up 10 days later in the hospital with Reza by my side. My mother left for Switzerland as soon as it was clear I would survive, and she wouldn't have to plan my funeral."

He stared at Christine who was openly crying, albeit silently. She seemed poised on the edge of her seat.

"So, you see the future I expected, the one in which I could walk in public and enjoy whatever success I was able to earn is gone. I can do great things, but I will always be pitied or feared or mocked. I can never be married or have children because I will never be able to go for walks with them on Sundays or go to parent teacher conferences or attend ballet recitals or softball games. I can never take them to Disney. If I can't give them all of myself, I'm no better than my mother."

"Erik…" she whispered and reached for his hand. He stood quickly.

"Excuse me. I think I'd like to be alone."

"Of course." She whispered as he walked out of the room.

Christine couldn't sleep. How could she possibly sleep after that story? Her heart hurt for Erik and the young boy he had been and the man he was now. Would he ever be able to move on from the emotional and physical trauma he had endured? He was so good, so worthy of love. How could he not see his inherent decency?

After listening to his story, she thought of her petty concerns relating to her career. What a lesson in perspective and what a lesson to learn about her own sense of self-importance. She would have a life. It might be different than she expected, but it would be a life. If only Erik could see a future for himself. He deserved his own life. He deserved more than being a cursed prince in a tower.

From the living room she heard the unmistakable sound of piano, a pleasant series of notes that repeated in a gentle cadence echoed in the high ceilings of the main room. Then came Erik's hauntingly beautiful voice. Like a sleepwalker, she followed the music, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"Nightswimming, deserves a quiet night… the photograph reflects on the dashboard, taken years ago…"

She had never heard the song, but its lyrics spoke of bittersweet memories, of an inability to back in time, a grief of lost moments. She walked deliberately to his side, so as not to surprise him or frighten him. The room was dark, only the moon reflecting off the Hudson with the lights from New Jersey on the other side. The river was calm tonight, the cool air sitting on top of the city with very little wind to rustle its smooth surface. Sitting next to him on the bench, she rested her head on his shoulder and realized, suddenly, he wasn't wearing his mask.

When the song ended, she took his hand in hers.

"Erik, I'll take whatever part of you you're willing to share."

And his lips were on hers. There was no erotic play in his approach. Both hands clasped her by the jaw and pulled her to him. His tongue in her mouth, drinking her in like a man starved and her providing sustenance. She couldn't see him, but she could feel him. Were those her tears or his that she tasted? She cupped his head to hers and he gentled his kiss. His lips covered her cheeks, and she arched her neck giving him access and sighed went she felt his tongue trace her pulse point.

"Let me take you to bed, Christine." He whispered with that voice that made her toes curl. One of his hands caressed her breasts through the fabric of her pajama top and she nodded.

"Yes, please." She was shameless. She greedily climbed in his lap, unwilling to stop kissing him for even a moment. He lifted her, the pressure of him against her causing her skin to prickle delightfully as if she were dizzy from lack of oxygen. He carried her with ease, so used to the dark of his own home. When he brought her into his room, he placed her down so that she was standing on the floor. He kissed her briefly before walking back to close the door and press a button. A soft whirring noise clicked on and large black out covers emerged from the ceiling. Now the moonlight was gone, and she was truly in the dark with him.

She felt him as he circled her, watching from just out of reach.

"Take off your clothes." he whispered, "please." And she smiled to remember his promise not to order her around anymore. They would have to revisit that requirement inside the bedroom. The idea did interesting things to her body.

Without responding, she disrobed. Her fingers felt nerveless, and it felt like it too long until she stood before him, reflexively holding her arms over her chest. She couldn't tell where he was until she felt his long fingers caress the skin of her back and arms. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the touch and felt his hard chest against her shoulder blades. His lips found her neck again and her head lolled back onto him, drunk on his touch. His fingers found her breasts and began to manipulate her nipples in a way that made her keen. His fingers were slightly calloused, and the sensation made her knees weak. She felt herself getting wet and whimpered at him with need.

He was silent as he continued to explore her, as if ascertaining just how to she liked to be touched. She was a song he was mastering, and she was singing for him as she never had for anyone else. One hand drifted down her stomach, deliberately drawing out the anticipation.

"Erik, please…" she whispered, and Erik chuckled in her ear.

"Did you want me to touch you here?" He cupped his hand over her wet center. "So wet already. Just wait till I taste you. I want you to come on my tongue but first…" One digit slipped inside her. "Christ, you feel good. I'm so hard for you."

And she could feel him, large and hot against her back, curling against her, surrendering to his body's rhythm. He continued to feel her insides while his thumb gently began to massage the hood of her clit. The touches were light, not enough to get her off but enough to drive her crazy.

"Slowly Christine, I promise you can have everything you want."

"I want you!" She plead and she felt his smile on the skin of her back.

"As you wish." And he let his thumb touch her in earnest, spreading her wetness through her ruff to the area that begged for his touch. He knew what he was doing, balancing the pressure of his thumb so as not to hurt her. She was rubbing herself wantonly against his hand and he let her take control, setting the pace for what would get her off. Then finally he pressed against her in just the right spot, and she came with a cry that made her limp with pleasure. She fell against him while he continued to milk her with his hand.

"That was quite the overture…" He placed her on the bed. "I hope you don't think we're done, Christine." He lifted her arms one by one, kissing all the way to the skin of her wrists. "I'm going to tie your wrists with a scarf. I trust you but I'm not ready for you to touch my body yet. Will you trust me?"

She had said she would accept what he was willing to give. It was pitch black, but she swore she was looking him in the eyes when she sighed, "yes."

"If you need me to untie you, just ask. I won't ever hurt you." He gave her an open mouth kiss. She felt a soft fabric around her wrists. It was snug but not painful. She could still move her arms, but they were bound together. She gave them a tug. "Are you all right?" He asked her.

"I'm fine" She assured him and felt his smile in the darkness. His lips returned to hers. He was seducing her again and she was melting against his touch. He upbraided her breasts until her nipples were stiff and then he brought each to his mouth in turn. She could feel the scar tissue of his face, a feeling that was unusual but no less arousing. She couldn't believe he was able to build her up again so quickly after she had just cum. Those long fingers she had long admired were holding her just right. When he spread her thighs and she felt him down there she let out an inhuman sound at the feel of his lips and tongue licking her all around her center driving her to rub herself against him so that he would kiss her where she needed him most. He pressed her thighs down, aggressively. He was ruthless in his domination of her body, and she loved it.

She was almost there when he lifted himself up off her.

"I'm dying to be inside you, please." He begged, "but I don't have condoms."

"It's okay, I'm on the pill." She confessed, "Please Erik, fuck!" She begged and he entered her. He surrounded her, his muscled chest pressed against her breasts and feeling of his chest hair on her already sensitive nipples made her arch her back against him. His hands tangled with hers, still tied above her head. His cock was hard and already slick with her juices and his pre-cum. He pressed into her slowly, and she could hear him breathe in slow deliberate breaths.

"I don't think I'm going to last long." His mouth nuzzled her neck. "It's been a minute."

"We'll have all night to build up your endurance." She promised him and he chuckled in her ear.

Lifting himself up on his elbows he pressed against her again, this time bringing one hand down to touch her. She was acutely sensitive from his mouth that she felt her body begin to quicken almost immediately.

"Oh my God, Erik. She felt her body tighten around him instinctively. As her body climaxed, he followed her, his own shout joining hers in the dark of his room. As their breaths settled, the black of the room settled on them like a blanket. Erik's arms were around her and she slept well for the first time in weeks lulled by the beat of his heart.