Chapter Two
Go on, Erik. Get naked. Is Christine going to enjoy you? You bet.
Hand in hand, they negotiated the path. Christine's robe kept her warm. It was Erik she was worried about. He was colder than he'd been in the days when he was known as the opera ghost.
They made it across the garden. Their feet squelched terribly in the snow. Then finally, as the servants made for their home above the stables, Erik and Christine reached the front door.
"Oh my God Erik…"
They made it across the threshold. Relieved, Christine shut the door. Erik stumbled into the parlour.
She tut-tutted. He sat there still in his hat, scarf and coat. "You'll have to get all that off," she said.
"Give me time," he moaned.
He looked comfortable in their parlour, though. She was so glad they were at home. She thanked God for this home daily. They were two lost souls who had eventually converged. She an orphan, he unloved. And now their home was with each other.
Gently, Christine removed his hat. She then unwound his scarf. And then finally, she took his mask off.
This was the face she loved. So, it was a bit unusual. His deep-set eyes were golden. Instead of a nose, he had a gaping hole. He scarcely had any lips.
But he also had high cheekbones, a heart-shaped face, and a sinuous physique. And a faultless sense of style. With the new mask he wore, anyone would have thought he was the most impeccable gentleman on earth.
But he was so much more than that.
He hid his disfigurement. Now only she and his close friends were exposed to it. There was a lot he hid. Ever since the murder that had seen them flee to England… and other dubious events in his past.
Now they were safe in this little haven, they had to make the most of it. And live every moment like it was their last.
She brushed the snow from his mask. "You'll make your face sore if you wear this too much."
"Enough of that, Christine."
Christine smiled. They'd had this argument quite often. She put his garments aside, and went to finally rescue his supper.
As she served him by the fire, he gradually improved. Christine watched his face with concern, like she always did.
She was so glad to see pink in his cheeks. It looked better than the blue that had been there before. And also, she was glad he was no longer yellow!
The Erik she'd first known had been horrid sallow yellow in colour. He had been so, so unhealthy. Time outside in nature, and good home cooking, had fixed that situation.
He looked almost normal now, provided the mask was in place. He could walk down the street without attracting strange glances. But she thought it was sad he needed a mask to achieve that.
Erik was rising wearily to his feet. He could hardly walk.
"Was it really that bad?" she asked gently.
"I don't feel like going up those stairs."
"Well… you don't have the elevator installed yet," she grinned.
"And I certainly plan to."
She assisted him up them. Erik complained this was too humiliating. She knew he actually loved it, though, when she fussed over him.
Finally they arrived at the top. "You must get some more clothes off," she said.
Christine began to run the bath. She watched as he sat, disconsolately, on the bed. "You're warm enough now, yes?"
She began to unwind his coat. Then, slowly, she unbuttoned his waistcoat.
He sighed, and put his arms up. Deftly she removed his shirt. Now he was naked from the waist up.
Christine unbuttoned his trousers. With effort, she pulled off his boots. They'd already left enough melted snow on the ground.
Erik helped her pull his trousers down. "Oh, I hate this," he said. "I hate being helpless."
"No, you don't," she grinned.
She pulled at his socks. Then there were only his underpants to go.
Gently, she peeled them down. Christine always loved this part. There was nothing in front of her except her man. Nothing in the way anymore. Nothing but him.
She followed him to the bath. Erik tested the water, and got in. Christine began to tenderly comb his hair.
For some time, Erik was silent. Then he opened his eyes slightly.
"Christine?"
"Yes, darling?"
"Did you think I was in real trouble?"
"I worry about that all the time."
He smiled.
"As if I would let anything happen to me. I travelled the world. I was a very naughty boy then, too. Don't worry… no thunderbolt will come from the heavens and strike me. Not yet, anyway."
"Oh Erik, I do get concerned."
"My dear wife, don't. I've got everything under control."
Christine traced the washcloth across his back. She ran the brush down his skin. She could feel his tension dissolving, like the steam.
Finally he emerged. After the bath, she helped him stand. She wrapped a heated towel around him.
"We will get you where it's comfortable," she whispered. "And then later, we can do other things."
Christine helped her husband to bed. She loved the feel of him. Soft, smooth, and smelling of homemade soap, he was very desirable.
However he was also very tired.
Christine was glad she had put a heated brick in the bed. As she removed it, he slid thankfully in. He nestled his head in his pillow. All he wanted was rest.
Christine laid the bedclothes over him. She sat upright. She did not know why.
Gently, she stroked his head. How could she make him sleep?
In the past he'd had trouble getting there. Now, it was much easier for him. So why should she be so worried?
At any rate, she knew she had to propel him safely into dreamland. And that those dreams must be pleasant.
He snuffled a bit. She stroked him soothingly, and he soon settled.
Christine snuggled down. It was never fun, she thought, lying like this. When he was near, and yet so far.
Wanting his attention. And yet he was not available. He was verging into slumber. But then, at least he was lying beside her.
He began his loud, overpowering snores. Well at least he was on his way.
Christine gently stroked his back. The inky night soothed her. Soon, lulled by the rhythm of her husband's breathing, she fell asleep.
It was about four when she woke. It was still deliciously quiet outside. Next to her, she heard a slight rustling.
A candle was flickering. Then it was a steady pool of light.
She blinked.
Erik was sitting up in bed. He was gazing down on her, smiling blithely.
"Feeling rested?"
"I think so." She rolled over, and fluttered her eyelashes. "You'll let me get back to sleep, won't you?"
He laughed. "That's not what you really want is it?"
"No." She chuckled.
She was wearing her soft cotton nightgown. "Oh, I'm hot," she said disconsolately, and plucked at it.
"You're hot?"
"You are making me hot."
"I do that, don't I." He sidled up to her. "You're burning, Christine. Burning up."
"Then do something about it."
He stroked her silky skin. "First I'll calm you down."
He lifted the cotton nightgown. Christine put up her arms, and let him take it off. Then, he tickled her armpits.
"Don't do that!" She giggled, and writhed away.
"Oh yes, I will."
She moved away further. He towered over her, and then she felt him kiss her. He wrestled her down onto the bed.
"We need to calm you down," he said. He laid her on her belly. He stroked her fair hair. She felt his hands gently pulling at the roots.
Then he began stroking her shoulders. His hands were so powerful. Capable of breaking. Breaking hard. But instead he was so gentle.
He stroked her back. Christine trembled as his touch went right through her. He was applying some pressure here.
Then, his hands came down to her bottom. He manipulated her flesh. Christine sighed.
He grasped her cheeks. She felt him pull them apart. He tickled the creases underneath. Then, she felt a fingertip on a very ticklish thigh.
Christine squirmed with anticipation. She knew what he was going to do. And then, she felt it. Parting her supple flesh.
She moaned. Her lady parts squeezed him so, so tight. They held him in a grip of absolute adoration.
It encouraged him to thrust all the more. She engorged, becoming wetter and softer. And then intense bliss flooded in, opening her further.
His organ was massive. She throbbed around it, groaning, becoming desperate. She loved the sounds of his pleasure. She adored being so vulnerable. Completely at his mercy.
She got slicker and slicker. The pleasure built to an unbearable point. "Oh, Erik…" She shrieked.
Then, it happened. Christine was stunned by the wash of sensuality.
She just lived for this moment. He held her close, his own fluid spent, his breathing returning to normal. She was a complete mess. Aware, so acutely, that she was his and his alone. At these times, she felt at one with the divine.
They laid, cheek to cheek, recovering. Soon she drifted off to sleep.
Christine was sleeping lightly. It was about four in the morning.
Erik was behind her. But she could see him. In her dream, his face was very clear.
The world was so insecure. They had nobody but each other, and were on a ship. They were on their way to Canada. She was dying to get there.
She was standing at the door to their cabin. Erik wouldn't let her out! She was mad with frustration.
She gazed down the tiny, dark hallway. She was almost tempted… Then, Erik came and restrained her.
She felt his arms around her in a vice.
He was trying to protect her. "No, Christine," he said in a silken voice.
"Why not?" She wrestled with little, childish arms.
"They will bind you hand and foot. My darling beauty would break." He spoke passionately. "It would be my fault. I am not risking the most precious thing in the world, just because of your fancy to flee."
At that point, Christine felt a warm trickle. It was her breasts.
They were full. More so than one would expect for a mother-to-be, so soon into her term.
She felt soft. She felt gentle. And intensely conscious, too, of her now-empty womb.
All of a sudden, she turned around and embraced Erik.
"Oh, please don't leave me…" she breathed. "We've got nobody but each other. It would kill me if you left… it would just kill me…"
She pushed herself against him. At that moment, she felt cold with dread. What if he left? She would have no one. And it would be like a piece of her was ripped right out.
At that point, she woke up.
She saw Erik. His chin was on her breast. His eyes were gentle with expectation.
"It's not over, is it?" he murmured sensually.
"No."
She needed him bad. Erik grinned. He knew that.
He laid his tongue on her nipple. She closed her eyes. That firm tongue made her shiver.
Christine knew she was getting wet again. She put a hand to her heart.
"Oh, Christine, you are so delightful."
Christine felt very womanly. A certain action, which had taken place some time ago, had made her feel so. It was something her and Erik had kept doing. They had to continue. They just couldn't stop.
She held her breast. She pointed it towards him. Erik uttered a low, sensual moan.
He shimmied up. He laid his head in its usual spot- on the pillow of her other breast. The weight of his slender body on her was like when they made love.
This was a different kind of lovemaking. Infinitely tender.
She guided her breast into his mouth. And she heard his delighted sucking.
Her milk was stimulated. That precious liquid kept coming to her bud, again and again. There was no baby inside her. Erik was her baby.
Her baby suckled her now. This strong, capable man was, in these moments, her child. He made noises of ecstasy. He snuggled up to her. And she felt close to him. Infinitely close.
Erik slurped the milk all over her. It was warm, and creamy, and plentiful. This was her favourite way of giving love to him. And it was this kind of love that had sustained him, when he was first beginning to feel normal.
Finally he laid, exhausted, on her breast. Christine cradled him tenderly.
She thought, as she often did, of the old days. And of how this situation came to be.
Dury had been so wicked to her. After he ravished her, she had found out the truth. He'd planted a baby in her.
The termination had been devastating. But now, Erik was there. Erik was there to lap up the milk that had been meant for her baby.
And he loved it.
She could see him now, with a bubble of milk on his lips.
She kissed him. On his lips, she tasted her own breastmilk. She sighed contentedly.
She rubbed his back. "Why is there still plenty of that in me, I wonder."
He grinned. "Because I need it."
Christine had stopped asking nature why. Erik was right. Her body knew what he needed, and so, it responded. She loved it how her and Erik were always so in tune with each other.
Finally they drifted off to sleep.
There was lots to do in the morning.
But just for now, there was peace. Christine laid against Erik. Like him, she was lapping up every last drop of sleep.
As the tender dawn broke, they were still well snuggled-up.