Hi all, some more stuff.
The characters are inspired by Leroux's POTO but are original to this AU story. I hope you all enjoy the start of this new story from me. Sorry for any grammar or spelling problems.
****WARNING ADULT CONTENT****
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It was cold and dark. The harsh winds that whistled through the Parisian streets had extinguished many lamp posts.
The wind bit through his rich thick wool clothes and coat. His feet felt frozen as he trudged through the blanket of snow covering the city which had refused to melt for the last week. It was no longer pure white but black and filthy like the thoughts that ran through his mind.
This was the coldest Erik had ever been. He could not recall a memory where he felt so cold, but it did not matter. No cabs were in sight when he emerged from his home, so gritting his teeth he started his march. Briefly, as the sharp wind whipped about he thought to turn back. See to his own needs as he had for the past decade. Alone, with his imagination sometimes aided by special books and photographs helped ease the tension that wound its way through his body. There was a long period where he had succeeded in this, not needing to seek out what he craved now beyond all reason. No, being alone wasn't enough anymore. Perhaps if he achieved this then he'd last another decade or longer.
Slowly it had become unbearable being only with himself. It left him aching for more. Tightening around him till all thoughts ceased except this one thing. Over the years the tiny pebbles of longing had melded into a large black slab of stone. But it was not carefully cut like the fine white Carrara marble he worked with in his quarry days. What he carried had jagged edges, was cumbersome, and weighed upon him greatly. The thing loomed in his mind's peripheral a great dark shape that was always there no matter what he did.
Living in an opera house did not help his predicament. The things he saw and heard while prowling from his home to his private box and back furthered his frustration. The sights and sounds nearly drove him mad with lust. After some time even his dreams would leave him panting with a coating of his filth along his thighs. Those dreams hadn't happened since the late stages of his boyhood. Unfortunately, he had become aware of what drove men to stalk on a freezing winter's night.
Finding a willing partner for himself was always a challenge. Even with money in hand, he'd been turned away at times. It was his appearance per usual as the culprit. The humiliation of being turned away always extinguished his flames of desire. And when he was allowed to have what he sought he'd pay well above average price. He never argued over the absorbent amount of cash they asked for nor did he blame them. Even with a mask, he was a terrifying specter.
Like a bloodhound, Erik's steps led him to the last establishment that allowed him entry a decade prior. He hoped it hadn't closed. On the surface, all the flats lined up in a row were the same. They were five stories, made of brick, had windows with white trimming and matching shutters, and doors painted blue. Quaint was how they all could be described, especially if one didn't know what happened behind the last door on the left. Erik had been there a handful of times for only one reason, they allowed him entry.
He saw the light coming from the windows. As he approached he could hear the sounds of a crowd coming from inside. A knot began to form in his stomach, he'd not expected on a night like this to have to deal with so many people. Their porch lamp had also gone out yet Erik still pulled his hat lower and scarf up to conceal his mask. Clenching his fist he gave a hard knock. The peephole opened.
The man behind the door called out. "We have one more!"
The door opened and he quickly stepped through lest they change their minds. To his surprise, the establishment was not as shabby as he remembered. The owner had changed some things. There was fresh paint, the floors were polished, and the furniture had been replaced with newer more fashionable pieces. Down the hall off to the left was where all the commotion came from. Incessant chattering, laughing, and glass clinking echoed through the place.
"May I have your hat and coat sir?" The burly man who let him in asked. The place had changed. They were trying to be more upscale offering to hold onto a man's items at the door. Readying for the worse Erik began to remove his outer garments. The man eyed him with suspicion when he saw the mask. Putting a hand up for Erik to stop, "Hold on."
He disappeared for a moment into the room where all the fuss was coming from then came back followed by a man with oiled-up slick backed hair in a cheap suit. He was desperately trying to appear above his station. The furnishings made sense now. The previous owner of the place was an old woman and seemed to have no desire to put on aires.
The man in the cheap suit gawked at him. Erik was sure that while the man didn't care for having a masked man about, he took note of his tailor-made clothes. His boots were constructed of durable soft leather and the top hat still on his head was made of real felt. But the man also found Erik threatening. Besides the mask, his height and glowing yellow eyes added to the man's unease. The burly one seeing his superior's reaction slipped his hand along his belt, and Erik remembered what had to be a knife hilt bulging out under his jacket on the right side.
Despite looking like a dead man Erik's strength was above average. Working long hours on the construction sites for most of his life had given him an edge. Even after creating his architectural firm he still would dive into manual labor. He ruined countless suits and masks in the process. In the end, he had maintained brawny sinew muscle. The cold bony hands hidden by kid leather gloves were also powerful allowing him to have a vice grip. Erik could easily overpower them. He had been in far more dire circumstances than this. It did not hurt that his Punjab lasso was concealed in the lining of his coat either.
They were silent all three watching each other. Erik waited as he would not make the first attack if it came to it, he wanted to try and keep a promise he made years ago. Thou shall not kill. He strove to keep his vow unless provoked into self-defense. Staring at the men with hatred, he remembered why he hid beneath the opera. He was not welcomed anywhere and it was safe there. No one could hurt him there.
Just as Erik was about to extract himself from the situation and crawl back to his home in anger with continued frustration the man with the cheap suit asked, "What are you looking for Sir?" He made the man nervous but his greed overrode everything else.
"Must I draw you a diagram?" Erik spat out in annoyance.
"No, but one with experience no doubt." Before continuing the man's beady eyes roved over him again, and he detested it. It felt like being on display again.
Erik's face burned, "Well?"
Then the man who had answered the door spoke up. "But what about the 'fresh' boss?"
Erik's stomach churned. A 'fresh' was a virgin. Many times they were not true virgins but the real ones were highly sought after. The sale of an authentic 'fresh' could be very lucrative for an establishment.
"Actually why don't you join the bidding?" The man asked. Erik shook his head yet the man began his pitch anyway wanting to bring in another potential bidder to try and drive the price up. "We have a nice one going up soon. I'll admit a little on the older side. Just north of twenty but in pristine condition, a doctor checked."
The other grinned, "Or if you just want a taste of cherry that's fine too."
In a firm tone, he said, "No, thank you."
Still, the man persisted. "A real beauty that comes from Sweden. The Swedish Song Bird is what we call her. Pretty thing with long golden locks, lovely face, and a mouth that-"
Erik growled out a sharp, "No."
From there he was led to the back by the bullish man while the owner disappeared into the room where the auction for the 'fresh' would take place. It was clear now why there were so many men here tonight. The woman must've been paraded about the place weeks before the auction, whetting the patron's appetites.
Erik walked past the doorway as if he was a horse with blinders. It was best to not even think about it. Despite yearning for languid liaisons where pleasure was derived from mutual joy and satisfaction, his experiences were anything but that. The women who serviced him preferred he leave as soon as possible. They never touched him and he worried they'd throw him out if he asked. The women would turn around bending forward baring their cunts to him. He'd have to be quick as they wanted him gone as soon as possible. Much to the women's relief, he'd pull out spilling his seed on their backs or floor. Erik was terrified of condemning a child to be born with his face and some poor women to deal with it. The sweet gentle lovemaking of lovers was not in his repertoire. The gentle touch of a woman was alien to him, only something that happened in his fantasies. The bullish man pointed him toward a brunette wearing only stockings and garters.
But the sound of a poorly played piano dragged his attention back from whence he came. He heard the owner bellow, "Gentlemen I present our newest addition our little Swedish Song Bird." The men whistled and called out lewd remarks. But over the din of noisy men, Erik's sharp ears heard a voice that made his blood burn. It wasn't perfect but something in it moved him deeply. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A jolt of electricity coursed through him.
The bullish man and the brunette were no longer a concern and there was no attempt to stop him. Erik drifted back toward the room where the auction was being held. Behind him, dragged the wretched black slab of stone.
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I'm hoping to add a chapter every two weeks provided my current daily schedule remains chill.
Reviews and feedback are always appreciated :)
© 2024 V. Loveburn
