Chapter Fourteen

 

            She was well again in a fortnight; between Christine's continued insistence of Erik's feelings and his own genuine concern, she really had no choice!  Besides, she felt terribly guilty about causing the man she loved so much pain (if Christine could be believed).  Erik liked having Jenny around at the very least... and she couldn't very well leave him alone again; that would be simply inhuman.  She refused to be the newest person in the long list of people who'd abandoned and betrayed him.  Erik was in a strangely vulnerable state these days, her death could easily shove him over the edge.

            While she had recuperated, Erik had been unfailingly affectionate towards her; he had made her soup and tea, read to her when she was bored, sang to her when her fever and coughing kept her awake, and he always made a point of stroking her hair or giving her a light kiss on the forehead.  Truth be told, it was these small considerations that had indisputably healed her wounded spirit and heart.  Maybe being cared for as his only family was better than nothing... it could be worse, she reminded herself for the seven hundredth time as she sewed a button on one of Erik's shirts... he could hate you like all of the others did.  

            However, even though she had resigned herself to fate working against her, she couldn't stop finding little things about him that made her heart nearly burst with love.  One day, it was the way he absently fidgeted with his cloak when he was feeling shy; the next day, it was the extreme dignity with which he carried himself about, and so on.  Jenny couldn't care less that he was a murderer with questionable sanity and a deformed face... all she saw was a gentle, compassionate man with no outlet for his boundless love.  His hands, which had dealt death so efficiently and coldly, could also be tender and tremble with restrained emotions of love and desire.  She had seen his eyes blaze with fury, fill with tears of sorrow and joy, and light up with laughter.  She knew things about him that few others knew; the combined persecution and wander-lust that had driven him to travel through France, Rome, Russia, China, India, countries that she's only heard about or less.  More than that, she knew his soul... his mask was to spare himself as much as it was to spare others, he had come to the Paris Opera House in order to hide from human eyes.  She knew of his wildest dreams... he wanted to be a husband and father, he wanted to walk in the daylight without people staring at him, he wanted to be like everyone else. 

            He wanted love.

            She wanted the same from him, of course... but knew that she mustn't dare ask for it.  She would just have to be content with Erik's reserved, almost fatherly affection.  He was a proud and honorable man, he'd undoubtedly view her affections as immature... trivial.  Jenny knew better, her growing feelings for Erik were not those of an adolescent, hers was the love of a woman.  But... as always, she was his friend and never likely to be anything more to him.  In the many weeks they spent together, they had watched sunsets and sunrises from the roof of the Opera, they'd each shared their own condensed life stories, spent many an evening in each others arms for comfort, even shared a few chaste kisses.  Jenny was not such a fool to think that Erik would ever see her as anything more than as the mother he'd never had or as the daughter he believed himself incapable of having.

            Erik was overjoyed at Jenny's speedy recovery, but still concerned all the same that a relapse could occur.  Therefore, he had made sure that she was well cared for and felt looked-after.  Son, father, or brother... he would play the part she needed him to.  However, his feelings towards her, his truest feelings, were hopelessly tangled.  He knew that he loved her, there was never a question about that, but when it came to how he loved her... he didn't have a clear answer.  He would certainly kill anyone who tried to harm her and felt the most irrational anger at the nameless man she loved.  (Whoever he was, he was a idiot to pass an angel like Jenny by without so much as an upward glance.)  He reveled in their easy companionship, delighting in the time they spent together reading, singing, or just sitting quietly in the same room, as they did now.  Just having her around made his house seem alive; no longer a tomb with a vampiric occupant who slept in a coffin, it was a normal, everyday house with two people going about their daily rituals together.  In the same way that Notre Dame wasn't the same without Quasimodo, the Phantom's lair was cold and lonely without Jenny there to lighten the darkness.

            But there was more to it.  He understood that, yes, he would feel strongly about his first real and untroubled friendship... but he simply could not bear for her to be away from him for long.  Her rehearsals seemed to take forever and, just to be free of his lair's choking confines, Erik found himself attending more and more rehearsals.  This was not simple friendship anymore... he wasn't sure what it was.  All he knew was that along with this inexplicable smothering instinct came another feeling that he knew well... desire... physical desire.  Over and over again, he reviewed the night he'd spent in Jennifer's bed, wishing with all of his soul that he might have lain with her.  He could vividly recall the feel of her skin and hair, the warmth of her body, the softness of her breast.  His own bed felt empty and cold by comparison... oh, how he longed for that feeling of complete and total trust in her arms again.  Every time he looked at her, he imagined how it would be between them; she was an innocent, he knew... but she wasn't naive.  Jenny possessed a passion and a desire about her that was revealed only when she sang... so far.  Erik was certain that whoever became Jenny's husband would have the most sensual of women in his bed.

            Unfortunately, he was definitely not a candidate for that office.  If only she would find some confidence in herself, then her perceived worthlessness would evaporate!  If she would just approach this man she loved and confess an interest in him... Erik was sure that this man, whoever he was, would gladly return her affection.  Only he knew that several men in the company were attracted to Jenny fiercely. Pierre, the head baritone; Jean-Claude, a first violinist;  Chretien, one of the scene-shifters... the list grew each day!  And now that she was playing Marguerite at every performance (thanks to Carlotta's quitting and Christine's engagement), Jenny was winning the hearts of every eligible, young man in Paris!  The only reason that no one acknowledged their infatuation was that they all assumed she already had a beau!  There was a rumor going about the corps de ballet that Jenny had a wealthy patron tied around her little finger.  His own fault of course!  He had accidentally been seen giving Jenny a light kiss in her dressing room by a ballet rat that had promptly run to tell the tale.  Thank God the little chit hadn't recognized him as the Phantom; he could just hear those stories now!

            The snow outside had kept the two of them cooped up below for a few days already, the harsh winter chasing away all thoughts of any performances above.  It was mid-December and already this was the third storm to paralyze most of Paris.  Frankly, Jenny was thankful for the inclement weather, for it allowed her an excuse to stay down with Erik.  Not to mention more time for preparing a few Christmas presents for him.  While he spent hours at a time composing his Don Juan, she was busily working on a scarf of soft, black chenille she had found in the market a month or so ago.  The velvety yarns were knitting together in a supremely soft cloth that felt as intoxicating as his voice sounded.  She was also working on a picture for him, using some of the paints she'd found in his laboratory... with his permission of course.  It was a landscape of the Statue of Liberty, as she remembered it from her journey to France; with the sun setting nearby and the ocean glinting orange and red.  To her mild surprise, it was coming out very well.  She'd always possessed a certain talent in drawing and painting, but had had little time to pursue it, due to her interest in music.  However, her memory was quick to recall techniques she'd learned as a child from her mother.  She hoped that this Christmas would be one to remember for Erik, certain that he'd never really celebrated it before.  She'd already convinced him to reserve a little time of the next week to take her out to find a Christmas tree and a Yule log.  It didn't really matter to her that she was likely to receive little from him in the way of presents; for he was busy most of the time and loathed to go outside to shop.

            Unbeknownst to her, Erik was indeed preparing gifts for her as well.  What she thought was his opera, was actually a song he was composing for her, based on a tune he'd once heard in Persia.  He intended to play it for her Christmas morning, using the pipe organ only... the lyrics he'd written were a bit on the sensual side, and he dare not confront her with his lust yet.  He'd also ordered several gowns made for her from a local, well-renown dressmaker; all of them made of the finest materials available.  The poor girl was still running around in borrowed costumes from Opera and the one outfit he'd given her the night she arrived; she needed some dresses of her own.  The dressmaker had listened to Erik's description and selected some of the most flattering styles, and off-the-shoulder designs were the majority; one in particular had Erik's mouth almost watering with the image of Jenny wearing it.  This exquisite gown had long sleeves made only of delicate lace and an off-the-shoulder design with a deeply plunging sweetheart neckline.  Erik could just imagine how much of Jenny's cleavage it would reveal.  The tight bodice would accent her hourglass shape to pure perfection and it's cobalt blue color would draw out the blue of her eyes.

            He had bought one other thing for her, but doubted that he could give it to her for Christmas.  He had locked away the ring that had once been both his mother's and Christine's before it had been returned to him.  He would never again use that ring, just the sight of it was too painful.  However, while in a jeweler's shop getting a new pair of onyx cufflinks, he had seen this ring.  It was not very large or flashy, but more subtle in its elegance; two bands of gold twisted together to created a sort of braid holding a small diamond cut into the shape of heart.  The tiny jewel had twinkled at him softly, almost as if it were trying desperately to catch his attention.  Without even thinking of the implications, he had bought the ring on the spot, knowing that the little adornment was simply meant to be worn by Jenny.

            "Erik?" Jenny's soft voice dragged him into the present.

            "Yes, ma chere?" he answered, watching her fold his shirt with small hands.

            "It's seven o'clock... time for my lesson." she smiled, amused at his recent habit of becoming engrossed in his own thoughts.

            "Very well... I wanted to try something new today." he said, rising from his chair to approach the pipe organ.

            "What?"

            "Just a little side-track, cherie... being from America, I'm sure that you know songs that I don't.  Why don't you regale me with a few American folk-songs?"

            "Of course!  I know plenty!" she laughed eagerly, sitting next to him on the bench.  She sang a few of her favorites; Yankee Doodle Dandy, The Star Spangled Banner, and an African spritual she'd heard called Shat Dee Doe.

            "Interesting lyric." Erik mused after listening to the Jamaican-accented song of "shut the door".

            "Kind of superstitious if you ask me.  When was the last time a candle ever kept evil away?" Jenny reasoned.

            "True... it never kept me away from anyone." Erik smiled.

            "You!" Jenny playfully hit his arm.  "You are not evil!"

            "If I'm not evil, then you're not ugly." Erik's mood abruptly changed as he finally voiced what he had been thinking all day.

            "Oh, please, don't start that again." Jenny groaned.  "We've been through this a hundred times over, Erik.  I'm just not as pretty as the other girls."

            "I think you are." Erik said softly.

            "Well, you're deranged anyway... remember?" she joked, her laughter dying in her throat as she realized Erik's solemnity.

            "I think that you are a beautiful young woman... with much to offer a man as a wife and lover." he breathed fervently, grasping one of her hands between his.  "Not only that but your voice could make the angels weep with its beauty."

            "Now you're flattering me." she reprimanded gently.

            "It's the truth, ma chere... sing for me."

            "Very well... what song?"

            "A song I wrote... from my opera, Don Juan Triumphant." he suggested.

            "All right."

            He pulled out a large, leather-bound manuscript, at least three inches thick and filled with meticulously hand-written musical notation in red ink.  Over his shoulder, Jenny caught snippets of libretto; it appeared to be quite risqué and carnal.  Not surprising considering the title, she thought to herself.

            "Here... this song." he indicated the page he opened to.

            "That's pretty high, Erik... you think I can do that?" she fidgeted nervously.

            "I know you can, cherie."

            With that note of encouragement, Jenny tentatively began the piece.  It started out in mezzo piano, as the young woman merely dreamed of innocent meetings with her beloved.  But soon, it became forte, almost ecstatic as she fantasized of making love with him, doing all sorts of mysterious, erotic acts with him.  Erik played with a fury that was not from concentration... he loved this music with an almost sexual intensity.  It was contagious, intoxicating and Jenny let herself go, her voice soaring to heights she'd never reached before, joining in on Erik's passion.  His body rocked back and forth as he played, in a rhythm that was a replica of the instinctive rhythm of love-making and Jenny found herself thrusting her hips forward and back in harmony with him.  Her heart beat in time with the music, her breasts growing heavy, and a strange swelling sensation gathering momentum in her own unexplored sex.  Good Lord, what was this? 

            Erik was lost in Jenny's voice... drunk on his own music.  Her beautiful soprano voice surrounded him, possessed him... pounded through him.  His heart was thudding at a dangerous pace, the blood flushing his skin... evidence of his passion.  His hands glided against the keys with no conscious thought; as far as he was concerned... it was Jennifer's body that he caressed, not some inanimate instrument.  Waves vibrated through him, filling his body with urgent sexual tension, the most violent sensation centering in his loins, his sex already swollen with the hot blood of lust.  Dear Lord, he had to stop soon, or he would either take her by force or kill himself with wanting!

            Thankfully, the song ended, leaving both composer and singer in a sorry state of frustrated arousal.  Jenny crossed one leg over the other, pressing her thighs together so as to mask the wetness she felt between them. She was sure Erik would hear the tremendously loud beating of her heart... or was that his?  He appeared to be just as excited as she was; he was breathing heavily, his skin was flushed, and his entire body was trembling.

            Erik  hunched over the keyboard slightly, a move designed to camouflage the hard bulge straining at the front of his otherwise immaculate black trousers.  This was very nearly unbearable!  He'd never been this close to losing control around Christine!  Jenny's mere presence was exquisite torture.  His senses seemed acute only to her; the scent of her faint perfume, the heat that radiated from her body, the sight of her so close to him... so close...

            "Jennifer..." he gasped, cupping her chin gently.  "Do you have any idea how... tempting you are?"

 

 

On to Chapter Fifteen

 

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