THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

Wow! Cool! I really really enjoyed these two chapters. I like the way in which things are going. Now there only needs to be a message from Mae to the rest, and all would be right with the world ....

But something tells me it won't be as simple as all that...

No matter, I enjoyed it, and I've always been game for a good story filled with intrigue... Please do continue, I shall be waiting obediently until I hear from you again,

D

Ah, Slytherliggie, thank you for the kind words and to know how much you enjoyed. This is why I posted two chapters this time so that you wouldn't think it's a run of the mill fic which picks up after the movie or novel.

You're right, talking to her friends will not be easy. Please stay tuned. There is much, much more coming.

Fay,
You told me once that your publisher didn't like the idea of you using someone else's character's therefore wouldn't publish this..right? I think that we should start a potition! All the Phans would sign it and maybe then your publisher would change his mind. because this is amazing and i want a copy to own. badly.

Your obedient servant,
Nichol

Nichol you are fabulous! Thank you for the compliment. Unless I publish this myself, the publisher I sent the second rewrite to won't publish this and if they did, the second storyline which actually starts in Chapter 3 would have to go.

They said it was confusing to show what goes on in the present day with Doone and the others dealing with Christine. As you read, this will show you just how different a fic it is, but publishers have to deal with what they think they can make money off of.

Another publisher I talked to will consider publishing it as an ebook, but I have to have something other than a fan fic published first. Therefore, this story has been snubbed by publishers until cetain things are accomplished by me.

Thank you again for your kind words. So happy you like the story enough to want a published copy. You've made my day.

I am determined to publish this somehow.

i agree with what the others said, this is an awesome story.
please post the next chapter soon

silver moon thank you so much for the compliment. You just made my whole day.

Let me know if you find the story confusing at any time. I didn't think it was, but my publisher did.

More coming really, really soon. Don't go away!

Thank you to all who have read and reviewed. I do appreciate it.

Now for the next two chapters. They aren't very long. Please R&R. Enjoy!

*******************************
CHAPTER FOUR

Phantom’s Lair Paris Opera House 1879

Erik stood on the shore of the lake speaking to a dark skinned man who stood nearly his height. The man spoke with a light Persian accent and wore an astrakhan hat upon his head.

“Is she not as I had described?”

“Oh, yes and more, Daroga,” Erik sighed and looked away.

“What’s wrong?”

“She asked me to remove my mask when I kiss her.”

“And…?”

“She neither turned away nor screamed. Even after seeing beneath the mask, she threw her arms around my neck and begged for my lips. Even the twisted deformed side, she begged for them. How could any woman want me?”

“They say there is someone for everyone.”

“She stirs feelings in me which I never knew existed. There are times when she evokes a primal arousal that is nearly impossible to control. My groins ache for her, even now,” the Phantom paused and shivered a bit as he spoke. “When I hear her voice, a strange peace washes over me, as though I had died, and gone to Heaven, or in my case, to Hell.”

“Erik, I believe this young woman is for you. She loves you.”

“What manner of sorcery has brought her here? I thought I was the only magician in the Opera House.”

“Love always finds a way to bring two people together.”

“You don’t understand. I am always in control of everything. But when I was with her, I nearly lost myself, wanting to take her there in the middle of the room. All thoughts of right or wrong were gone. My raw lust nearly devoured her,” the Phantom, moved to a nearby stone and sat down.

“You love her?”

“More than life itself.”

“Marry her, now, as planned. No more questions. Follow your heart, my friend.”

“Then we shall meet you at the chapel at six this evening. Please tell Madame Giry and her daughter, Meg that I request their company at our wedding,” Erik arose and brought himself to his full height.

The Persian bowed and smiled. “It is done.”

“Daroga, you must answer Mae’s questions.”

The Persian only smiled and turned to the boat. Erik moved to a lever and pushed it down, opening the portcullis so the Persian could pass through in the boat.

As Erik turned to enter the house, Mae startled him. Standing dangerously close, she looked so beautiful and petite. The low cut dressing gown she wore showed off the enticing curves of her cleavage. At the sight of her, he caught his breath.


“Mon Dieu, ma petite! [1]You are becoming stealthier then I,” a faint smile crossed his lips, but his eyes locked on to her cleavage, and his heart began to race.

“I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you,” Mae looked up into his face to search those blazing eyes, even through the mask.

“Come, I have something for you,” he took her hand and led
her into the house.

A beautiful, ornate desk stood in the corner of the study. Erik pulled the pretty, young woman to him and opened one of the drawers. Drawing out a small ring box he opened it. A beautiful gold band glinted by candlelight.

“Will you marry me, Mae? I love you. All I have is yours, my heart and my soul,” this time, his eyes searched her face, hoping she would not turn away and refuse.

Such a precious look came to her face! Squealing with delight, she snatched the ring from the box. The Phantom set the box down, took the ring from her and placed it on her finger.

“I assume the squeal means ‘yes’,” he gazed at her lovingly. Her eyes left the ring as she reached for him.

“You may remove my mask,” he gathered her up into his arms as his beautiful fiancée quickly obeyed.

His mouth covered hers in an instant. She tasted sweeter than any wine he’d ever drank. He trailed butterfly kisses across her cheeks and down her neck, but stopped abruptly at her breasts. Realizing what he almost did, he pulled away and looked for his mask. It dangled in her hand. Quickly he took it and
replaced it on his face.

“Go! Dress for the wedding,” he turned away from her. “Please, go now!”

“Are you angry with me, dear Erik?”

“Go or I won’t be responsible for my actions!” his voice rang harsh.

Mae became hurt and confused. Everything happened too fast and with no
explanation. Quickly she turned to leave the room, but a strong thin hand gently grabbed hers, and she paused without looking back.

“I am not angry with you. If we are not married at once, my passion will carry you to my bed and I will not be able to stop it!”

Still not looking back, she nodded. The Phantom released her hand, and she fled from the room lest he pounce upon her in his raw, unbridled desire.

Mae found her way to the bedroom where the automaton stood. Silently she removed her dressing gown, and let it drop to the floor. So many things flooded her mind. Without question, she wanted to go home, to see her parents once again. Yet, she wanted to stay with the Phantom, Erik, this lonely, disfigured recluse she had truly come to love.

As she pulled the dress up, a light tap came from the wall. “Do you need assistance, my beloved?” his voice floated through the door. Ah, that voice, whose golden tones made her moan and gasp from the ecstasy they stirred in her loins.

After a brief pause, she moved to the door and opened it. To the wretched Angel, she appeared like a vision of all he deemed beautiful and holy. Then she turned around so he could button her dress.

Her soft, creamy smooth back lay bare before him. With trembling hands he touched her silky smooth flesh.

“Mon Dieu! Where is your corset?” he asked with a frightening calm.

“I didn’t know to wear one. Must I? It would be so tight. I may faint.”

He didn’t press the issue, but quickly buttoned the dress. Then he moved her silky curls to her back and she turned to look up at him again. Those golden eyes came to rest upon the sight of her cleavage. He swallowed hard.

“May I ask a question?” she asked.

“That was a question,” Erik tried to look away.

His fiancée smiled. Why do you love me? We’ve only just met.”

The Phantom moved to the closet and pulled out a heavy, warm
cloak and extended it to her.

“Come! We must go!” he ignored the question. Mae turned her back to him that he might place the cape around her shoulders. As he did so, he wrapped his arms around her, and whispered, oh so ominously in her ear, “Are you afraid of me?”

She felt the warmth of his breath on her neck. Everything about him seemed to arouse her. His hands roamed across her stomach, and up to her breast, and stopped. Her heart pounded so fast she thought it would pop right out of her
chest.

Again, he whispered in her ear, “Are you afraid of me?”

“Yes,” came the answer. Her throat felt dry and her body flushed with the heat of desire.

“Yes, I am afraid of you,” she gasped.

“Do you think that I would harm a delicate little creature like you?” his words trailed as his lips teased her face and neck. Her eyes closed as she savored the sensation.


[1] My God, my little one!

CHAPTER FIVE

Streets of Montmartre, France Present Day

Christine found herself surrounded by Mae’s four friends.

“You tryin’ to bail on us?” Doone’s face flushed with anger.

“I won’t go back! That voice called to me every night. Seeing him in my dreams. Seeing him in the mirror…Are you all insane? Why would I return to a creature darker than the depths of hell? There was nowhere to hide,” Christine started to sob again.

Another two or three cars passed and frightened her and she grabbed Tommy’s arm.

“Hey, chill woman! They’re just cars. Remember cars?” Tommy started to push her away, but realized how much he enjoyed her touch.

“Hey! Let’s not get too chummy here!” Kimee parted the two, a spark of jealousy in her eyes.

“Come on, Chrissy. There’s gotta be something you remember that can help us,” Twanda tried to understand.

“Chrissy?” The young diva puzzled at the nickname. “Chrissy?”

“Okay, you wanna stay here. We can deal, but we need to find our friend. Do you understand? She may be hurt,” Twanda again tried to reason.

“Suddenly, I don’t understand a word you’ve said.”

Twanda rolled her eyes. Tommy took Christine by the hand and led her back the way they came.

“Let’s go back to the mirror and see what went down. Maybe we can get Mae back and you can stay here, too,” Tommy sounded hopeful.

“What the crap…?” Doone started, but Tommy turned on him.

“I said chill! The diva’s pretty wigged. Back off. We’ll deal!”

Doone backed off, but cursed under his breath. He had loved Mae for a long time, but his lack of interest in school or a job, only kept them as friends, and nothing more. Silently, he cursed himself for not being with her when she examined the mirror.

As the five approached the chaperones, which had remained at the sidewalk café, Tommy tried to keep Christine behind him, and the others tried to stay in front of him, so that no one would see she wasn’t Mae.

Mrs. Carlyle, the older of the two women, pushed her salt and pepper colored hair from her eyes with a pudgy hand and turned to the young adults.

“What happened?” Mrs. Carlyle tossed the question to the group.

“Nothing,” Kimee brushed it off.

“It must have been something. Mae, Mae! Are you all right? Come here and
let me see you.”

“She’s not quite herself. She’ll be okay. Just needs to go back to the hotel and lay down,” Tommy kept Christine behind him.

“Yeah,” Twanda chimed in.

“We’re gonna go back to the hotel with Mae, and…uh, she needs to rest
awhile.”

“Let me see her,” Mrs. Carlyle insisted. “Mae, come here!”

The frightened visitor didn’t know what to do. She pulled the hat down even further over her face. Tommy adjusted the dark glasses.

“It’s okay, Betty. We’ll take a look at her later. Let the kids go back to the hotel. They can get food there,” Miss Peters caught Carlyle’s attention and
discreetly motioned for the kids to go.

The five took advantage of the situation and bolted for freedom.

Mrs. Carlyle wrinkled her brow in concern. “They’re hiding something.”

“I know, but let it go. They’ll work it out. They’re good kids. How much trouble could they get into?”

“I don’t like it. Ever since they left the Opera House, they’ve been acting weird.”

*******************************************

Upon reaching the hotel, Twanda and Kimee made sure no one got a good look at the young diva, before they shoved her inside the room they shared at the hotel; Tommy and Doone followed. With the door secured, everyone’s attention turned to Christine.

“What?” Christine looked from one to the other.

“Tell us again how you got here,” Twanda tried to be kind.

From her backpack, Kimee grabbed her copy of Leroux’s novel. “Didn’t you say that the Angel of Music sang to you through the mirror?”

“Yes. That voice can seduce any woman. It’s like I have no will of my own. My very being craved him. It’s so unnatural!” Christine buried her face into a pillow.

Kimee skimmed the book. “It says here, that you went through the mirror and the Phantom led you to the lake by Le Rue Scribe.”

Christine stopped the melodrama, and looked up from the pillow. “What are you reading?”

Kimee turned the book around to show the title. When Christine reached out, Kimee released the book. The diva’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “There’s a book about my horrors with the Phantom? I…I don’t understand.”

“We like need to go back to the Opera House,” Doone said, still angry.

“Okay, but Chrissy’s gotta re-enact what happened. Mae could be in trouble, big time,” Twanda looked to Christine.

“How did anyone come to know about the Phantom and me?”

“Long story, girlfriend…” Twanda started, but Christine cut her off.

“Mon Dieu! It speaks of my Raoul. Raoul! How could I have forgotten?”

“Then there is something for you to back to?” Tommy set next to her on the bed, a little disappointed. Kimee gritted her teeth as the old green-eyed monster took hold of her again making her push him off the bed.

“Hey!” Tommy yelled as he hit the floor.

“Chill! Chrissy’s missing her Raoul. Give her a moment,” Kimee came back at him, almost mockingly.

“You're right. I should go back. Raoul will be worried sick,” Christine held the novel to her bosom as if it was sacred.

mae and erik`s so cute togheter. but isn`t it to early to think of marriage? Not that i can`t live with it, and how do nadir know about her? I guess this gonna make sense later? or what?
wow this story wakes my couriosity

Hello silver moon! Thank you for dropping by and for the kind words. Delighted you like Mae and Erik together.

If you recall, Mae was prophised to him by Mitra, the Seer. He's been waiting for her for years.

The Persian is not taking on the name Nadir. That was Susan Kay's story. I refer to him as Leroux did; he's called the Persian or Daroga. He knows more than he's letting on. This is why Erik asked him to answer all of Mae's questions.

More will be revealed as you go along.

Thank you again. More coming soon, so don't go away.

oh yeah, mitra..*slaps head* doh, me!

And, go away? are you crazy?? lol

Ah yes, Raoul makes his appearance, finally. I just knew keeping Christine in modern times was too good to be true, and I was wondering what kept our Raoul so long in getting here...

Very good, once again. I can't wait to see how Daroga answers all Mae's questions, and even better yet, I can't wait to see what questions she is going to ask...

I am eagerly anticipating your next update.

D

silver moon that's okay. Prologues are so far away when you've read five chapters. I'm like that as well. Thank you again.

Slytherliggie so happy to see you. Yes, Raoul is here. We can't have a Phantom story without le Vicomte de Chagny. Thank you for your kind words.

So pleased that all of you are enjoying the story. Don't touch that dial. We'll be right back with more of the Phantom and Mae.

Love it... cant waite for more.

LOVE IT so far. Can't wait for the rest.

Devine_Muse and erikstalker thank you for your kind words. Your feedback is very important to me. So happy you enjoyed. I will post soon.

Looks like time for a new chapter. Thanks to all who have read and reviewed.

Now I present the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

************************

CHAPTER SIX

Twilight, Streets of Paris 1879

The Phantom held Mae’s hand tight as he hailed a cab in the
cold, damp twilight of Paris, the City of Lights. A cab promptly responded. Erik opened the carriage door, and helped his future bride into the cab. Then he drew
his cape around himself and climbed into the seat next to her, and slammed the door.

“To the Madeline Chapel near Le Rue Etoile, si vous plaît[1],”
commanded the Opera Ghost. At this, the carriage began to move.

“May I ask another question, Erik?”

“My dear, you’ve just asked a question.”

“Why do you love me?”

“Why do you love me? How can you love a repulsive
creature like this? You don’t know what I am,” Erik retorted, yet he held her hand next to his heart.

“I know that in Persia you were an executioner and you taught the little sultana the art of the Punjab Lasso. I know you traveled withgypsies. But I’ve always known there was
good in you.”

“How do you know about Persia and the gypsies? How?” he turned his full attention to his petite love.


“I know about the trapdoors and secret passages in the Opera House and the accidents which happen if you don’t receive your salary.”

“You pique my curiosity, ma petite. Tell me how you know of this?”

“In 1911…”


“1911?”


“In 1911, a man named Gaston Leroux wrote a novel called The Phantom of the Opera.”

“A book about me? That’s unbelievable! Does this
book tell you about the Rosy Hours of Mazenderan?” Erik eyed her with curiosity.

“The Persian doesn’t go into detail. It was too horrible for him.”

“Ah, the Persian! Daroga is in this book as well. Interesting!”

“So is the torture chamber.”

“The torture chamber? No one knows about the torture chamber,” Erik gripped her hand so tight, she winced in pain.

“Please, Erik, you’re hurting me.” At this, the Opera Ghost puzzled and pulled Mae upon his lap. “So, you know about
the torture chamber?”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Why would anyone write a book about me? Is this true?
You know all of this from a book? What sorcery brought you to me, ma petite?” His warm breath sent chills up her spine
mixed with fear and desire.


Even through her fear, Mae sensed this strange, masked man
loved her, and most surely stirred feelings that had long been dormant until now. Determined to take advantage of
this tender moment of their upcoming marriage, Mae continued.

“She-who-cannot-be-named is in the book, too.”

“Who? She-who-cannot-be-named? Oh, you
mean Christine?”

“Don’t yell at me, okay?” She buried her face in his chest.
He liked the feel of her next to him. Then, he realized she used a word he didn’t understand.

“Huh? Okay? What does this mean, ‘okay’?”

“It means, ‘agreed’, like ‘bon d’accord’.”

“Your French is good. And you are a fascinating woman! You know so much about me, and still can say
you love me? Amazing!”

“Why do you love me?” Mae asked again.

“Oh, I see. It is time to share,” Erik hugged her to his chest.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had a conversation with someone…”

For a moment, he fell silent. The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves tapped out a rhythm on the cobblestones. The
disfigured genius contemplated whether or not he should answer the question.

“What do you know about the torture chamber?”

“If I tell you, would you have to kill me?” she laughed
softly. Erik did not understand the humor.

“Huh? Why would I …”

“It’s a joke. In my century they say, ‘If I tell you, I’d have to kill you.’ It means they don’t want to…”

“I understand, but why is that humorous? They joke about killing in your century?”

“Nothing is sacred. They make fun of everybody and everything.”

“From what century do you come?”

“The twenty-first century. The year 2006.”

“2006! Mon Dieu! C’est incroyable!” [2]

“The torture chamber was a room of mirrors where a metal
tree stood. On the tree hung the Punjab Lasso so the victims could end their torment. When the room lit up, the mirrors reflected the light and intensified the heat driving the victims insane…” His fiancée hugged him tight.

“Stop it! Stopit! No one knows about the torture chamber,” the Phantom clung to her desperately. Trying hard to push away the dreaded memories.

“The Persian and Raoul fell into it.”

“What?”

“Oops! That hasn’t happened yet. My goodness! I’m changing history. If we marry, the story changes.” Those words struck a strange but familiar cord. You cannot change history.

“Silence! Enough! We shall discuss this later,” then he leaned down, putting his face ever so close to hers. “You may remove my mask.”

Mae smiled, knowing when he said this, he wanted to kiss
her. Eagerly, she removed his mask, and immediately his mouth covered hers. They both flushed with flames of passion.

At last, they arrived at the Chapel. The Phantom replaced his mask before getting out of the carriage. Then, he turned to
help Mae down.

Inside the Chapel, the Persian met his friend and his
fiancée. Still, Mae reeled from this dream-like world of the Opera Ghost. The Persian stood before her, nearly as tall as Erik; his straight black hair combed back from his olive complexion. Smiling, he kissed her hand.

“A pleasure, mademoiselle, and my congratulations.”

Mae smiled, but didn’t know how to answer. What do you say
when storybook characters come to life?

Madame Giry, a handsome woman of forty or so, ran to meet
her, followed by her pretty little fifteen year old daughter, Meg. Madame Giry worked as a box attendant at the
Opera House, the same one the Phantom favored with sweets and tips because she willingly responded to all of his requests.

“Congratulations, Mae. We are so happy for you and Erik,” Madame Giry hugged her and gave her a light peck on the cheek. Meg followed suite.

“Thank you. Have we met?” the bride-to-be looked shocked that they all seemed to know her.

Erik looked to the Persian, who nodded an agreement.

“Did I mention I’m not Catholic?” Mae shrank in the presence
of the Phantom’s crowd.

At the altar, the priest hailed them as the bells tolled six o’clock.


Madame Giry took Mae’s cloak and placed a garland of flowers
on her head. A lovely lacy veil flowed
from the garland.

“She is very beautiful, Erik. May Allah bless you and your
bride,” the Persian made a gesture to the heavens and then bowed to the Phantom, who returned the motion.

Again the priest hailed them. This time, the crazed genius offered his arm to his beloved. Mae accepted. Her icy hands trembled and the butterflies in her stomach tangled in knots.

Erik had only thoughts of making love to this beautiful
young girl. Even now, his blood boiled and his heart raced at the sight of her.

“Erik,” Mae whispered as they walked down the aisle toward
the priest. “I’m not Catholic. Does that make a difference?”

“Do not worry. Daroga has created your church records.”

“How comforting! Forged church records!” Mae mumbled sarcastically to herself.

An hour later, as the priest pronounced them man and wife,
the Opera Ghost gathered his young bride into his arms and whispered seductively, “You may remove my mask.”

The priest and witnesses looked away, afraid of what lay
beneath. With trembling hands, the bride removed it. The deformed eccentric pressed his lips to hers, kissing her long and hard. His breathing grew heavy and ragged. The bride took his lips hungrily. After a moment, Erik reluctantly broke the kiss and his wife replaced his mask.

“You are mine forever! No one shall ever take you from me!” he growled. Then he bowed to the priest and slipped him
some money for his services. The priest smiled and anxiously accepted.

In a few minutes, they swept the bride away to a nearby
restaurant, where the Persian had arranged for a light supper in celebration of the marriage.

Victorian furniture filled the tiny restaurant and white
brocade cloth draped the tables, while only a handful of customers dined this evening. The groom sat to the right of
his bride and the Persian to her left. Meg noticed how pale she looked.

“Mae, are you not well? You are very pale.”

“I...I guess it’s the excitement. A girl doesn’t get married every day,” Mae tried to smile. Erik caressed her hair
lovingly. He had never been so happy.

“With your permission, monsieur, may we ask questions of
your beautiful bride?” Madame Giry asked the Phantom.

“Of course you may, but my wife does not have to answer,” he squeezed Mae’s hand. Shyly, she gave a faint smile, but before anyone said another word, she mustered up enough
courage to ask her own question.

“How did I get here?”

A hush fell over the table. Erik shifted in his seat and shot the Persian a look.

Mae looked from one to the other and posed her question
again. “How did I get here? No one asks about she-who-cannot-be named, so I assume you know something I don’t.”

Meg frowned. “She-who…what?”

“She means, Christine. I yelled at her for saying that name,” the Phantom explained.

Quietly, the Persian cleared his throat. “Take Raoul to the mirror.”

The young bride glared at him in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Take him to the mirror in Christine’s dressing room.”

“If I take him there, then what?”

“What will happen will happen.”

“I thought my husband was cryptic, but you’re worse than he
is.”

“You have become very bold. You were not like this before the wedding,” Erik kissed his wife’s hands.

“That was when I thought you’d hurt me. You are not angry are you?” she squeezed his arm.

“As long as you don’t try to leave me, I am not angry.”

At this the waiter brought their soup and the question
dropped by the wayside.

Later that evening, Erik carried his bride across the threshold of his home, and into the bedroom. Gently, he laid her upon the bed. Mae knew what came next, but at last, facing that moment, made her excited and terrified at the same time.

Erik removed his cloak and his coat, and started to slowly
unbutton his shirt, all the time, eyeing his new bride wantonly.

Mae nervously removed her cloak revealing the luscious
cleavage of her voluptuous breasts and curves. She swallowed hard and tried not to look at him. All this time wanting to meet him, to talk to him, even to kiss him, but now, now to finally make love with him, it became
altogether frightening. He was after all, Erik, the Opera Ghost, and the Phantom infamous for the numerous
executions committed by the Punjab Lasso. They called him the master of stealth, a magician, ventriloquist, the
lover of trapdoors, even Death itself.

The masked groom roughly pulled his bride to him. Innocently, she stared at him glassy-eyed;her heart pounded so loudly it nearly deafened her. Kisses covered her face and neck
hungrily. He acted like a wild animal about to devour her. His scent intoxicated her, but his rough kisses and handling, made tears come to her eyes. In wild passion, he pulled her
dress off her shoulders, and buried his face in her neck and kissed his way up to her ear.

“Are you still afraid of me?” he growled the question.

“Yes, I am,” she said as she closed her eyes afraid of what
would come next.

“Even your fear arouses me, my beloved,” his breathing grew
ragged and uneven.

He made her look at him and forced her hands to this naked
chest; his body felt like fire and moist with perspiration. Then he forced her to finish unbuttoning his shirt.

Mae had never been with a man before, and though she wanted her husband, her hands trembled as she slowly undid each button. His smooth tight skin begged for her affection. Gently she pressed her lips to his bare chest trailing baby kisses all the way to his stomach. Erik closed his eyes as the flames of desire overtook him, and his arousal became very obvious.

No longer could he bear the craving. He grabbed his wife and turned her around roughly, so he could unbutton her dress.
Each button made his loins ache. His hands shook a bit more as the last button came undone. Her bareback tempted him so. He pressed his lips to her soft, silky flesh and trailed his tongue down to the small of her back. The sensation aroused the young bride and she let out a soft moan, which sent him into a frenzy.

He ripped off her dress, and to his delight, the woman he
craved stood naked before him. Again he pulled her to him roughly. “Remove my mask,” he growled sensually.

She obeyed, and his mouth nearly devoured hers. He crushed her bare breasts to his chest. The sensation sent erotic surges through his loins and hers. After ripping off his own pants, he threw his wife on the bed where he went at her
violently.

Hands explored every part of her delicious body. His kisses made her gasp for air and she moaned at his touch. Those lips made their way down her neck to her perfect breasts, where he teased her nipples with his tongue. She tasted delicious, and it nearly drove him mad with desire.

When he could no longer tease her, he finally spread her
legs apart and pushed a finger into her warm wet womanhood. When he knew he wouldn’t hurt her, he slid
inside. By this time, Mae wept, and he knew it, but continued his rhythm within. Never had she felt any sensation like it.

At last, they gripped each other so tightly that even Erik
cried out when they reached the crescendo of their music of the night.

In a moment, Erik collapsed on top of his bride, panting.
His warm breath on her body still aroused her and he hadn’t torn her apart as she had feared.

Everything still looked surreal to her. No man could have ever made her feel so sensual, so erotic, so vulnerable, yet so fulfilled!

“I do love you, Erik,” she whispered softly. Without a word, he tightened his hold, and she knew he felt the same. She caressed the soft skin of his bareback as she blinked at the candles surrounding them.

When he recovered, the groom held his bride in his arms and
pulled the blankets over them. His body still felt very hot and glistened with moisture. The young bride kissed his damp chest and stomach and he closed his eyes, enjoying each intoxicating sensation

“How does the novel end?” he asked caressing her body
gently, lovingly.

“Huh?”

“My story. In the book. How does it end?”

“For you, not good, but we’ve changed that tonight.”

“Answer the question, my sweet.”

“You let Christine and Raoul go. You give her the gold band, but make her promise to give it back to you when you are dead.”

“Mmm. Did I die?”

“L’Époque, the newspaper, said, “Erik is dead.” Christine returned and slipped the ring on your finger and buried you according to your instructions.”

“My end was sad.”

“Erik, we’ve changed that. We’re married. Christine isn’t
even here,” Mae made him look at her in the candlelight. “You won’t die, especially alone. I will never leave you!”


Erik said nothing. He stared into the lovely face of the woman he loved. All the sadness of the world reflected in his
golden eyes. His wife threw her arms around his neck and again, Erik surrendered himself to her.

naaaw,so sweet

and She-who-cannot-be-named, HAH , i knew it, christine is voldemort in disguise

dont take me seriosly there, i`m just too much of a pottermaniac.

lovely...it almost seems to good to be true for erik.
Me thinks i sence a twist coming up?... hmmm?

silver moon thank your for your kind words. You understood, but Meg and some others may not be.


Devine_Muse thank you a lovely review. Yes there will be a bumpy road ahead.

More coming soon. Don't go away!

I see a lot of drama from Doone when he finds out what Mae did. I can't wait for more.

Thank you for reading and for the kind words erikstalker. Yes, there will be much coming from Doone, even a broken heart.

Glad you enjoyed. There is more to come. Don't go away.

exactly what did i understand?

(wow i understand more than i know, i`m too smart for my own good )

silver moon you understood that she-who-cannot-be-named was Christine. That's what you understood.

You are smart!