Chapter
3 : Longings of the Heart
The
lessons continued as before, but Erik was cold and distant, reluctant to touch
Meg in any way. He was terrified that
his bare control would snap if he sampled her soft flesh again, which dancing
with her would require to some extent.
Meg sensed his withdrawal and couldn't understand it. He still wanted her, of this she was sure;
for she would often find him watching her, his unique eyes caressing her body
as she wished his hands would.
She
was at a loss as to what she should do; she had trouble concentrating on her
dancing, lost interest in all other activities, and merely toyed with most of
her meals. Worst of all, she couldn't
sleep at night; once darkness fell over the city, Meg's obstinate little body
would long for Erik, his touch and his kiss.
She knew that she couldn't go on like this, she needed Erik... in her
heart and in her bed.
"Watch
your footing, Meg!" Jammes hissed during rehearsal as Meg nearly tripped
her.
"Oh,
sorry!" Meg apologized, blushing at her clumsiness.
"What
is wrong with you lately?" Jammes demanded once they had stopped
rehearsal.
"Nothing."
Meg shook her head unconvincingly.
"You
can't fool me." Jammes probed.
"You've had your head in the clouds for weeks and you look like
you're not getting any sleep."
Meg
searched Jammes' chocolate-brown eyes, wondering if she dared tell.
"I'm
miserable." Meg said at last.
"I'm in love."
"Love? Doesn't love generally make people
happy?"
"Not
when the man you love is afraid to touch you."
"Afraid to
touch you?" Jammes repeated incredulously. "Why is this man afraid to touch you?"
"I
think he's afraid that he'll do something to upset me."
"He's
sensitive?"
"Yes."
"Passionate?"
"Very
much so."
"But
also repressed?"
"That's
Erik."
"Well...
what are you going to do about it?"
"I
don't know." Meg sighed, fighting back sudden tears of frustration.
"If
I were you, I'd turn my attentions else-where... to someone a bit more
bold. Not seriously, of course, since
you seem to really love this Erik, but enough to make him a little jealous and
consequently more bold himself." Jammes suggested.
"You
think so? I'm not so sure... you see...
Erik's very... fragile."
Jammes
gave her an odd look.
"He's
been hurt very badly in the past and, as a result, is easily disheartened.
" Meg explained.
"I
see. Well, like I said, just flirt a
little. Give him a little encouragement
to the chase." Jammes said
matter-of-factly.
"Play
hard to get?"
"Exactly."
@>----'----,--------------
Erik
sat at his pipe organ, lightly depressing the keys in a soft melody all his
own. He could, at long last, compose
again... and was writing a song for his little ballerina.
Lord,
he loved that sweet, innocent, young girl.
She filled the void left in his heart by Christine. Oh, he would never forget Christine
entirely, but now she was a distant pain... a far-off memory of something that
had meant all of the world to him that had been ripped away. But it was all for the good... for it was
Christine who had urged Meg to go to him.
Meg, who was not paralyzed with fear by his presence... Meg, who let him
touch her and kiss her hand, even though he did frighten her to some extent...
Meg, his precious dancer. She cared for
him, and maybe... just maybe, she could learn to love him as he loved her. It was a distant hope, he knew that only too
well... but hope was all he had left to live on.
Seized
by a sudden idea, Erik did something he hadn't done since he was a boy... he
knelt on the carpeted floor and prayed.
He prayed with all of his soul; Please, please God let her love
me. I know I do not deserve any
kindness from You or anyone else... but I love her. Please, Dear Lord, make her love me. Hands clasped tightly in front of his heart, he whispered a
soft Lord's Prayer, asserting his belief in God. Oh, he'd always believed in God... but He chose to push Him on
the back burner in general. After all, it had been God who made him the way he
was... a deformed man whose only redeeming qualities were his voice and
intellect. But, Erik supposed he should
be grateful for that small comfort. Take
all I have, but please... I need Meg's love.
A movement out of the corner of his
eye alerted Erik to another's prescience.
With a speed and agility borne of a lifetime of caution, Erik rose to
face his intruder, his hand automatically slipping to the hilt of the knife he
kept strapped to his belt.
"Woah! Erik, it's only me!" Meg held up her hands in instinctive
self-defense.
"Meg!"
Erik breathed letting himself relax.
"Dear child, don't sneak up on me like that; it's very
dangerous."
"So
I see." Meg smiled. "I take
it that you forgot that you told me to come down early for my lesson so that we
could have dinner down here?"
"To
be perfectly frank... yes, I did." Erik nodded self-mockingly, eyeing
Meg's exceptionally revealing bodice askance for a split second. His mouth went dry as he continued, "I
must be entering my period of senility
to have forgotten that."
"Erik...
you're not that old... are you?" Meg teased, laying her dancing bag
on Erik's couch and tying on her ballet
slippers, her position exposing a few inches of enticingly pale cleavage.
"If
I were wine, I'd be worth about five hundred francs. I am a ripe old age of fifty... give or take a few
weeks." he allowed, forcing
himself to look at his shoes.
"Fifty
is not that old." Meg insisted.
"When my parents married, my mother was twenty-two and my father
was forty-five. That's... let me
think..."
"Twenty-three
years' difference." Erik supplied.
"Yes...
so you're fifty and I'm nineteen..."
"You're
eighteen, Meg."
"I'll
be nineteen in a few months, that's close enough. That's, what? Thirty-one years?"
Erik
nodded. Why was she comparing their
ages?
Apparently,
she had just asked herself the same question, for she quickly changed the
subject back to her dancing lesson.
"So,
what am I learning today, o wise and powerful one?" she smiled, twirling
experimentally to see if her shoes were on correctly. Why don't you just blurt out that you want him, you moron!?
"I'm
not quite sure. To be honest, I've
little left to teach you. You learn so
quickly, Meg. No sooner have I taught
you a step then you administer it perfectly into your routine. How about if we learn some non-ballet dances
today, hmmm?" Erik asked.
"Non-ballet? You mean like ballroom dancing? The dances they do at the masquerade balls
and such?" Meg asked eagerly.
"Precisely."
"Hey,
I'm game."
@>-------'-------,---------------------
Not
surprisingly, Meg did exceptionally well learning the waltz and the lendler and
other such recreational dances. And
both parties found comfort and some measure of relief from their respective
nightly tortures in each other's arms.
Meg found Erik's embrace thrilling and at the same time... very
disconcerting. Whenever they touched, a
shock of electricity shot through her, igniting her blood. Before long, she was flushed and her eyes
glowed an electric green, the only indication of her passion.
Erik's
reaction to Meg's close proximity was more pronounced, more noticeable. His stubborn body responded to Meg's
innocent touches and profoundly seductive curves swiftly, his loins swelling
and hardening with the hot blood of desire.
He hoped and prayed that Meg wouldn't notice the rigid evidence of his
arousal while they danced.
Unbeknownst
to him, Meg was acutely aware of his impassioned state. My God! she thought to herself, not
wanting to embarrass Erik. What do I do?
Dear God, what do I do? Offer
myself to him now? No... no... it's too
soon; he'd never believe me. But I
can't just let him suffer like this!
Wait... I know...
Erik started violently when Meg's
slim hip gently rubbed against his almost painful erection. He looked down to her face, expecting to see
her suddenly realize his enflamed state of body and run screaming from
him. To the contrary, her eyes were
closed, as they always were when she concentrated on new material. Except for the beautiful peach blush in her
cheeks, she showed no notice whatsoever of the hard, throbbing bulge straining
at the front of his otherwise immaculate, black trousers. He stifled a gasp of pleasure/pain as her
thigh followed the example of her hip, lightly grazing his arousal and
hardening him further. Oh, Meg...
please stop! I've only a minimum of
control left! Don't torture me like
this! Please!
Meg heart-beat was going double as
she continued to caress Erik's engorged sex whenever she believed it would
appear accidental and innocent, which considering that they were slow dancing
together, was quite often. She shivered
a little when she realized that he was growing even more enormous under her
inexpert seduction. Always the
gentleman, he showed little outward sign of his excitement; except for his
strained and slightly uneven breathing.
She knew he wouldn't dare try to ask her to lie with him or even
consider taking her by force, her goal was only to force him to acknowledge his
desperate need for relief and satisfy it; maybe he would pleasure himself once
she had left... or patronize a prostitute.
Oh,
she knew all about these things... after all, she was a ballet rat and many of
the other dancers entertained their handsome patrons privately to earn
some extra money. Many people believed
that there was little difference between a chorus girl and a whore. Maybe Erik would go to one of the more
worldly girls, like Jammes or Genevieve... in disguise naturally.
Her
stomach muscles tightened with the sudden surge of bitter jealousy. Why should he make love to a harlot and not
her? Wasn't she pretty enough for him? Now, be sensible, she told herself, of
course you're pretty... that's just it!
He loves you and doesn't want to subject you to his conceived
repulsiveness. Besides, he wouldn't
make love to a prostitute... he'd only satisfy his lust temporarily on a woman
he cares nothing about. Hmmm...
Given the options, she almost hoped
he'd go to a prostitute; what Erik needed was another person's warm, soft body
to hold close. Although she longed to
be the woman he'd seek out to meet his physical and emotional needs, she knew
that it was far too early yet to expect him to have that sort of courage and
confidence. For now, his silent love
and occasional touches to flesh and heart will have to do. Just be patient, Meg... he'll come around
eventually... I hope.
@>----'----,--------------------------
Once they had finished their light
supper and Meg had left for the evening performance of Aida, Erik locked
himself in his room; an unnecessary measure, considering he was the only one in
the house. Nonetheless he didn't want
to take the slightest chance that someone might discover him. He was desperate for release and wouldn't
dare approach a streetwalker for pleasure; so he contented himself with
masturbation.
Meg...
dear God, child... do you have any idea what you've done to me? I was never this close to losing control
with Christine! He thought to
himself once he lay exhausted on his bed, breathing deeply and evenly at
last. He knew that he had earned
himself only temporary relief from the demons that ruled his body whenever Meg
entered his thoughts or presence.
He
couldn't go on like this, even when he wasn't physically hungry for her, he
still ached for her. It was a vicious
cycle; when she wasn't with him, he longed to see her... when she was with him,
he couldn't handle being around her because he would become so aroused. Even now, he was wishing that she come back,
having forgotten her bag or some other nonsense.
My
sweet dancer... what have I gotten us into?