Phantom Touch

Phantom Touch Cindy Jacks Erika leads a quiet life—at least in the real world. But her alter-ego, Little Lottie, is a singer at a local club and engages in a wild online romance. For months she‟s been communicating with a mysterious man, known only to her as the Phantom. Her lover contacts her via texts, emails and instant messages. When he offers to fulfill her desires in real life, she can‟t refuse. The only condition to meeting for their sizzling assignations—he wears a mask to hide his true identity. Despite his reluctance to reveal himself to Erika, he tears down her inhibitions and unleashes her suppressed passions, taking possession of her body and soul. Erika may have finally found the one man who can sate her every longing…if only he would show her the man behind the mask.

Ellora‟s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Phantom Touch ISBN 9781419935862 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Phantom Touch Copyright © 2011 Cindy Jacks Edited by Jillian Bell Cover design by Syneca Photography: Ioannis Pantzi/Shutterstock.com Electronic book publication October 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora‟s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora‟s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher‟s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author‟s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author‟s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.

PHANTOM TOUCH

Cindy Jacks

Cindy Jacks

Chapter One As she repeated the proposition for her best friend, Erika couldn‟t believe she‟d agreed to it herself. “Tell me again why I shouldn‟t have you committed?” Meg wrinkled her nose and sipped at her daiquiri Erika rolled her eyes. “I know him. I trust him.” “Which is precisely why I think you‟ve lost it. You don‟t really know him. He could be here right now and you wouldn‟t even realize it.” Meg gestured at the club patrons milling about for happy hour. “Love isn‟t about looks. We talk every night. We write music together. I know his soul.” Meg choked on a piece of fruit. “His soul could belong to a sixty-year-old lech for all you know. And you don‟t really talk—you IM. There is a difference.” “It‟s a valid form of communication and we‟ve been chatting for what? Two, almost three months.” “Granted. But don‟t you think it‟s odd that he won‟t call you or agree to meet for a drink like a normal guy?” “What do I know about normal guys? I‟ve had what—three boyfriends ever? Normal guys don‟t even notice me. At least I know my phantom likes me for who I am.” “He likes Little Lottie.” “And Little Lottie is part of me. She‟s who I wish I was brave enough to be.” Meg pursed her lips the way she did when she‟d started to change her mind about something. After a heavy exhalation she said, “I just don‟t get it, but if he makes you

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happy and you‟re willing to take the role-play into your real life, by all means—find your bliss, girl.” With a wicked grin, Erika lifted her drink to her lips. “But seriously.” Meg wiped her mouth. “Are you really going out in public with a man wearing a mask?” “He‟s meeting me here after Lottie‟s set on Saturday.” Erika looked around at the variety of people in steampunk costumes or dressed as vampires or just plain pierced and tatted up. “I don‟t think we‟ll draw much attention here.” “True that.” Meg nodded, the chain connecting her nose piercing to her ear gauge bobbing too.

***** An instant message window popped up on Erika‟s computer monitor with a message from the Phantom.

Only two more days until we meet, Little Lottie.

She glanced around the row of cubicles to see if her coworkers were looking. Trying to suppress a grin, she replied.

I can hardly wait. Maybe I should cancel my gig so we can spend the whole night together. No way. I love watching you perform. OK. I won‟t cancel, but just for you. I‟m forever in your debt, love.

Excitement swirled in Erika‟s stomach. In two days she‟d finally meet her phantom. He‟d made excuses over the months they‟d spent chatting online. It would ruin the 6

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mystique. He didn‟t want her to be disappointed. But how could he think she‟d be disappointed? He was her phantom, her own angel of music.

I can‟t wait to meet you F2F. Well…face to mask, lol. I just hope you like what you see. You know I don‟t care what you look like. Easy to say.

She‟d pictured him in her mind so many times. Okay, so she pictured the traditional figure from Gaston Leroux‟s book, but even if he were disfigured or homely or chubby, she didn‟t care. She just wanted to meet him. An error message interrupted her daydream.

Problem at work. BRB.

Clicking the chat window closed, she printed a screenshot of the error and ran downstairs to visit Cristian Roderick in the IT dungeon. The whir of all kinds of machines and stale recycled air met her entrance to the bottom floor. All the esoteric gizmos needed to run the store‟s computer network filled the basement. The temperature was kept at a chilly sixty-eight for the sake of the electronics. Wearing a pullover with the hood up, Cristian sat at his desk, fingers flying over the keyboard. He turned his gaze to her, ceasing typing immediately. “Er-erika,” he stammered, pulling the hood farther down the left side of his face. “Hey, Cris. Um—I can‟t connect to the database, I think my ODBC settings have gone wacky again.” She handed him the printout. “I don‟t understand how this keeps happening. Do you think my machine has a Spartan or whatever?”

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A ghost of a smile tugged at what she could see if his lips. “You mean Trojan. Did you take a look at the open database connectivity settings?” “You know I don‟t know how to do that.” “Don‟t worry about it. I‟ll reset them and I‟ll scan your system for issues just in case.” Erika waited for him to get up but he remained rooted to his seat, clacking away at the keyboard again. “Do you need to use my workstation to scan it?” she asked. “No, I can access your system from here. Just dismiss the error message when you get back to your desk. Given me ten minutes to fiddle with your ODBC.” “Oh, thanks.” She tried to make eye contact but he stared straight ahead at his monitor. “Well, bye then.” “B-bye.” She trotted upstairs, shaking her head. So hard to get a read on Cristian. If he were angry or annoyed by her recurring IT problems, she‟d never know. In the three years she‟d worked for the home furnishings store, he‟d never once looked her in the eye or addressed her directly. Which was too bad, because she thought beneath ratty sweatshirts lurked a handsome man. At least Erika was pretty sure he was handsome. Now and then she‟d catch a glimpse of hazel eyes or a shock of dark hair, not to mention he filled out a pair of jeans better than most techies would. The trill of her smartphone interrupted this line of thought—her boss asking where she was. “I‟ll be right there, Mr. Raleigh.” She replaced the phone in its holster. When she reached her cubicle, Mr. Raleigh stood there. Tripping over her desk chair, she rushed to sit down. “Sneaking an extra coffee break?” he asked.

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“No.” Erika studied her sensible shoes, her face and ears on fire. “Actually I was just down at IT. My ODBC is messed up again, I was working on the price increases and—” “Erika, I‟m only joking.” He handed her a stack of purchase orders to enter. “One of these days I‟m going to get you to laugh.” Not likely. She tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear and settled in at her desk. Mr. Raleigh‟s presence made her feel as though she couldn‟t breathe. He wore designer suits she couldn‟t afford, spoke Spanish and French with ease and hung out with all the other department heads after work. That she called him Mr. Raleigh instead of Victor— even in her private thoughts—was confirmation enough that she‟d never loosen up around him. It was for this reason that she understood Cristian‟s awkward mannerisms. She and Cris were wallflowers-in-arms.

***** Typing and uploads, typing and uploads. The day dragged on—an endless loop of data entry and updates to the store‟s central database. When Erika had taken the job in the merchandising department, she‟d thought maybe she‟d work her way up to designing displays or ordering products, but three years later, she found herself stuck in the same dead-end position she‟d accepted straight out of college. The time read four forty-five. With only fifteen minutes left to her workday, she allowed herself to play online a bit. She checked her email and posted on her social network page.

The countdown to bliss has begun!

A chat window opened. It was her phantom.

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Meet you online tonight at seven? Wouldn‟t miss it.

***** Seven p.m. on the dot, Erika logged in as Little Lottie. Immediately a chat window opened. It was the Phantom.

Good evening, love, so glad to have you all to myself. *Folding my arms around you*. Hey you. *giving you a kiss*. I agree. It‟s the best time of the day. So what melody have you been batting around? Check it out.

He sent her a link to his online storage drive. The MP3 file took less than a minute to download. Queuing up the file, she chewed at her thumbnail.

Stop chewing your nails.

Erika grinned.

It‟s spooky when you do that. How‟d you know I‟m biting my nail? You always chew on yourself when you listen to music. Or when you‟re nervous. It‟s really not fair that you‟ve seen me, but I‟ve never seen you. That you know of ;) LOL, right. That I know of. Did you hear the track? Listening now.

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She queued up the sound file on her computer and pushed play. Strains of piano chords streamed from the speakers. Picking up her guitar, she worked out the chord progression.

Love the D minor sprinkled in. A touch of Phantom, just for you.

Butterflies flitted around her stomach.

Can‟t wait to touch my phantom. *Caressing your face* We can take it slow on Saturday. I don‟t think I can. I‟ve waited long enough. Getting physical could be complicated. Sorry. I don‟t mean to press, but…what‟s the big deal about getting physical?

After a few seconds, the Phantom answered.

Because it takes our relationship to another level. I‟m ready. I‟m not sure I am.

Erika gritted her teeth. She wanted to type WHY!!!!!!!! over and over and over again. But she didn‟t. Instead, she replied,

Think about it. Please. I want to make love with you. I‟m sure. When you put it that way, it‟s hard not to think about it. Pun intended? ;)

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Yep. I‟m really hard. Mmm, I‟m sure that‟s a condition I can help you with. I‟m sure. Tell me more.

Tucking a lock of hair behind one ear, she glanced around her living room as if to be sure no one was watching her. She chuckled at her own idiocy. She was alone as usual—she lived alone, for crissakes.

I want you to kiss me passionately, pin me to the wall with your body. Oh yeah? And then let my hand slide up your thigh. I part my legs for you and you push a finger inside me. Are you touching yourself now? Yes.

She slid her hand into her panties, stroking her clit.

Turn on your webcam.

She sighed.

Nope. Only if there‟s quid pro quo. Fine. Keep going.

She extracted the hand from between her thighs to write.

When I‟m good and wet I want you to push your cock inside me. Yeah.

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And fuck me. Yeah. And come inside me as I come. I want to feel your juices dripping out of me. OH YEAH. God, you are so hot.

She chewed at her thumbnail and cast a guilty look around her apartment. The curtains and shades were all drawn.

I‟m not, but thank you. Whatever. If you talk like that on Saturday, I won‟t be able to control myself.

Her point exactly. If he could talk dirty like that here, what was his hang-up about Saturday night? Lacking the energy to beat a dead horse, she picked up her guitar. They spent the rest of the evening working on the music and lyrics to the new song the Phantom had begun composing. He understood music in a way she never had before. He spoke it like a language, composed full dialogues, telling her just how he felt in each chord progression. His talent awed her. By midnight, Erika yawned and stretched.

I‟m beat. Get some rest then, my Little Lottie. You too. Good night, Phantom. See you tonight in your dreams.

Maybe Saturday I’ll fall asleep in your arms, she thought but didn‟t tell him. She‟d pushed him enough tonight.

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Closing the chat window, she rose from her desk chair and shuffled off to bed. Gaston Leroux‟s Phantom of the Opera was already queued up on her e-reader. She read the scene where the phantom keeps Christine captive, training her voice—the implication that he was also training her body. Erika‟s thoughts turned to her phantom. The idea of being bound and fucked by a mysterious stranger appealed to her more than she dared admit to herself. She didn‟t know what to expect Saturday night but she still had her fantasies. Would he be gentle or would he take her by the hair, pinning her to the wall as he shoved inside her? Her heartbeat sped up just thinking about it, a familiar ache manifesting between her legs. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she looked at herself in the dresser mirror. One at a time, she undid the buttons of her pajama top. Teardrop-shaped breasts led to her soft abdomen and rounded hips. She wiggled out of her pants and knelt on the mattress, inspecting her naked form. As images of a dark figure stalking her spurred on her arousal, she stroked her skin and the mound between her legs. Hot and already wet, her labia swelled the more she imagined his hands on her body, his cock inside her. She licked a finger then slipped it into her pussy. Opening herself with careful strokes, she reached for her vibrator in the nightstand drawer. Her heart pounded harder with anticipation. She watched its rhythm pulse at the base of her throat as she withdrew her finger and wiped it across the tip of the dildo. With a moan, she pushed the smooth shaft inside herself. Her buttocks slipped off her heels and she sank lower, engulfing the entire dildo except the stimulator wand, which pressed to her clit. She flipped the switch and the vibrator sprang to life. Ripples of excitement surged through her, the space between each breath shortening until she was panting. Closing her eyes, she pictured her phantom, the hungry sounds he‟d make just before he took her. He‟d fuck her hard, so hard that at times she would hardly be able to stand it.

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She rode her dildo like that, as if she were helpless to control the Phantom and his animal need. With a moistened fingertip, she caressed one hard nipple then pinched it. Ecstasy rippled from her breast to her pussy. Muscles deep within her clamped around the vibrating shaft. She held it steady and continued to force herself down to the base and back up to the tip, then back down again. Searing heat built between her legs and radiated out, claiming her entire body. She held tight to the sweet tension and savored the few moments before it broke loose. Meeting her own gaze, she willed herself to come. Come for your phantom, she told herself, driving the vibrator into her slit. A wave of pleasure washed over her as she crested the peak of a powerful orgasm, struggling to keep her eyes open. She loved to watch herself climax. She drank in the sight of her body racked with ecstasy before a massive spasm forced her to slump forward. Muscles shaking, contractions sent rapture coursing through her. A choked cry clawed its way from her throat and she threw her head back, lost to the tide of sensation. All too soon, the powerful waves faded to mere ripples, then to a soft crackle of electricity between her legs. With a satisfied exhalation, she drooped backward onto the bed. One more shiver ripped through her as she withdrew the vibrator then dropped it onto the floor. Bathed in the afterglow, she turned to look at the Phantom of the Opera print on the wall. “Saturday,” she murmured, letting her eyes droop closed.

***** See you tonight in your dreams, he‟d written. But he didn‟t have to wait until bedtime to see Erika. He saw her dressed up as Little Lottie every time he closed his eyes. He could smell the white-chocolate undertones of the perfume she wore at work. Day after day he saw her, bored out of her mind in her cubicle or making a break for the door at

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exactly five o‟clock. She didn‟t even know he worked with her, that every day he longed to talk with her about more than just business, but she never seemed open to it. As if he‟d have the courage if she were. It‟d been an accident when he‟d first come across her performing at Masquerade, and even then he‟d hardly recognized her. He‟d heard about the club online—a place where everyone was accepted—and decided to stop by one Saturday night. A beautiful woman sang onstage. Melancholy acoustic guitar and her pure, clear soprano voice bewitched him. She‟d sung a haunting song she‟d written herself—though simplistic, it suited her. At the end of her set, he‟d noticed the Phantom of the Opera sticker on her guitar case. It was then the idea was born. That night, he‟d created the Phantom‟s profile on the social network where she advertised her gigs and sent her a friend request. Erika immediately accepted… Well, Little Lottie had accepted, because the two personalities seemed as though they belonged to totally different women. Where Erika was shy, quiet, desperate to avoid calling attention to herself, Lottie was vibrant and bold, with so much stage presence. Erika usually did her hair in a sloppy ponytail, wore slacks and oversized sweaters paired with flats or loafers. But as Lottie…oh, as Lottie—red hair spilling in loose curls over her delicately freckled shoulders, a pink minidress cut up to there, pouty red lips and five-inch stiletto heels. His cock sprang to life at the thought of running a hand up her long, shapely legs. Would her pussy get wet with just his touch or would she take some time to coax open like a ripe peach? What would she taste like? Would she be wild and daring or sweet and submissive? An endless stream of questions tortured him, his erection growing harder. Heaven knew he wanted to sink himself inside her. And she wanted him too. But when it came down to it—if she saw who he really was—would she still want him? He stripped off his shirt and looked at himself in the mirror. Regular workouts at home and good eating habits kept him lean and muscular, but it was kind of like putting lipstick on a pig. His fingers strayed to his face. He hadn‟t been truly handsome

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since he was nineteen years old—ten years ago. Ten years of one-night stands, fumbling around in the dark to sate his needs with women who wanted nothing more from him than he wanted from them. And inevitably, once they‟d gotten a quick fuck or two, the questions would come. That was his cue to leave. He never bothered to take their numbers, if they bothered to offer…which wasn‟t often. But it was all good. At least he‟d thought so until he‟d gotten to know Erika, until he‟d seen her as Little Lottie. She belonged with him. They were kindred spirits, hiding their true selves from the world. Falling in love with her was as easy and natural as breathing. Pulling on a black turtleneck, he narrowed his eyes at his reflection. With the mask over his face so only his lips and chin were exposed, he felt powerful, like the young man he used to be. He needed her to love him, it was worth the risk. If she wanted him to be her fantasy lover then that was what he‟d be.

***** August 14, 2001 Noon

Desiree pirouetted, the sun flashing off her flaxen hair. She was laughing, reaching for him. “Come here,” she said. He scrambled to stand. Catching her around the waist, he pulled her lithe body against his. Not as graceful as she, he tripped over his own feet and tumbled into the lake with her. She squealed, giggling, and then she kissed him. Her mouth on his, her soft skin slid against his. Despite the cool water, his cock stiffened. “I love you,” he murmured. “I love you too.” Sliding his hand under her bikini top, he freed her pert breasts. She melted against him, her mouth straying from his lips to his throat and collarbone. He groaned.

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The knot on his board shorts fought him but he managed to untie it without breaking free of her embrace. She hastened to remove her swimsuit bottoms. They‟d made love once already that afternoon, but that was the beauty of being nineteen. His body knew no limitations—he was powerful, strong… And dying to sink into her wet pussy. As he pushed his cock inside her, she tilted her head back, a moan on her lips. “God, you feel good,” she said. “So do you.” He captured a nipple between his teeth, rolling it against his tongue. Goose bumps rose on her skin and he smiled, her breast still in his mouth.

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Chapter Two Erika—no, not Erika—Little Lottie began her set with the new song she and the Phantom had collaborated on. Moody and dark, it was the perfect melody for the crowd. People swayed together beneath the red and purple lights of the club, all eyes fixed on her. Tonight she wore a violet corset-style minidress with black velvet piping, fishnet stockings attached to lacy garters and she finished the ensemble with a pair of purple stiletto demi boots. Her makeup was equally dramatic—smoky eyes and wine-colored lips set off her porcelain skin. Her hair cascaded in ringlets down her back. The packaging might‟ve been the first thing to catch the audience‟s attention, but she knew how to hold it, showcasing her voice with the melancholy notes of the guitar. Despite the fact that it was one of her best sets—the songs, the chemistry with the audience, her voice in peak form—it dragged by. She scanned the clubgoers for a masked man. There were guys with tattooed faces, a couple of wolfmen and countless vampires, but no phantom. Perhaps he was lurking in the shadows. Once she struck the final chord, she had to force herself to take a couple of curtsies, thanking the crowd for their adulation. The emcee came on stage to introduce the next act and Lottie scurried to exit. Stowing her guitar backstage, she ran to the restroom to freshen her makeup. Excitement churning in her stomach, she headed out front to the bar. The bartender passed her the usual—a vodka tonic with a lime. In their last online chat, the Phantom had told her to relax after her set and he‟d find her. Drink in hand, Lottie parked herself at a table, listening to the band play. An hour and a half later, yet another act took the stage and Lottie‟s hopes had slowly sunk to her feet. With a sigh, she trudged to the back of the club and collected

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her guitar case. A shadowy figure materialized down the hallway. She watched him, thumbnail straying to her mouth. He was dressed in black pants and turtleneck and there was something odd about his features. He was wearing a white mask. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “Phantom?” she asked. The figure walked toward her and in the dim light she could see he was indeed wearing a mask. “You‟re late,” she said. “I‟m on my way out.” Without a word, he took the guitar case from her, pulling her to him with his other hand. He crushed his lips against hers, the musky scent of his cologne flooding her nostrils. Sliding his tongue over hers, he deepened the kiss. Adrenaline coursed through her, her skin electric, every nerve ending alive. She relaxed against him, grasping his broad shoulders. As he released her, her head swam with disjointed thoughts. She‟d been annoyed about something, but damned if she could remember what. Her rapid pulse echoed between her legs. She wanted more of him. Now. She moved to kiss him again but he put a finger to her lips. “If at any point you want me to stop,” he whispered in a raspy voice, “say chandelier.” “Chandelier? But what are you going to do that requires a safe word?” She chuckled, shaking her head. “What you asked me to do. But you have to follow the rules. I touch you. I undress you. You don‟t do anything to me unless I give you permission. And you never touch the mask. Understood?” Rules? She looked up at him. The mask hid his expression, but his tone was serious. His large frame overshadowed her. He was a big man, strong, she could feel the musculature through his shirt. With the mask, dark clothing and icy stare, he looked mysterious—menacing even—but she wasn‟t afraid. She longed for him to take her, the 20

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unknown adding to the excitement. Could she do this? Her pussy got wet just at the thought of moving forward. Yeah, she could do this. And she would. “I‟ll do whatever you tell me to do.” The words excited her as they formed on her lips. “Come on.” He took her hand, leading her into a darkened storage room. Surely he didn‟t intend to have sex with her here? She didn‟t have a chance to ask. He slid his mouth against hers, teasing her tongue. Eyes closed, she inhaled his scent— it was hard to tell where his cologne stopped and his natural scent began because they complemented each other perfectly. Not that it mattered; she couldn‟t get enough of either. He wrapped one of her legs around his waist, his hard cock pressing against her thigh. Breathless, she broke away from the kiss. “We can‟t do this here.” “Why not?” “We‟ll get caught.” “We won‟t.” Won’t we? She wanted to question him but sensed that she shouldn‟t. She‟d never done anything like this—nothing even close—and it was all moving so fast. True, she‟d asked him to make love to her, but… She bit her lip, contemplating the safe word. His hand in her panties kept her objections at bay. He stroked her clit, caressing her wet folds. Fuck it, she decided, adrenaline and arousal fueling her bravado. She captured his lips, throwing her arms around his neck. Clearly picking up on her shift in attitude, he ripped the string holding her flimsy panties together and let them fall to the floor. She gasped and giggled, feeling a smile tug at his lips too. Letting her fingers meander down his hard body, she lifted his shirt but he caught her wrists.

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“Breaking the rules already?” He released her and then turned her around, pinning her hands against the wall. “Stay like that.” His mouth brushed past her ear. The sound of his zipper filled her with anticipation. He lifted her dress, baring her ass and rubbing his cock along the cleft. Shivers darted through her. She wanted him to shove himself inside her. To fuck her hard and fast until her cum leaked down her legs. She wanted him to own her body, to do with her as he pleased. But he continued to tease her. He licked at her ear as he toyed with her nipples, pinching and brushing them through her clothing. Air moved over her backside as he shifted position. He licked between her ass cheeks, letting his saliva drip between her legs. Her pussy twitched, burning for him. “Please,” she whimpered. He stood up, his mouth against her ear again, his cock at her opening. “I like that you‟re begging me. Please what?” “Please. I want you inside me.” She heard the tear of a wrapper and the crinkle of a condom. Hands gripping her shoulders, he pushed his full length into her. He filled her, stretching her a little. Legs shaking, she bit her lips to contain a moan. Pulling down the straps of her dress, he freed her breasts. As he drove into her over and over again, he rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Pleasure raced through her and she choked back a cry. His other hand settled between her thighs, massaging her clit in time with his thrusting. As she grew wetter, he fucked her harder, bending her at the waist so he could plunge deeper. The head of his cock found a spot that set off sensations she‟d never experienced. Muscles inside her contracted of their own accord and the tension gripping her body grew unbearable. “Oh god,” she whispered. “Just like that.”

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He pulled her ass flush with his pelvis, rocking against that spot. Her pussy dripped juices down her legs, her body quaking uncontrollably. She came hard, panting to keep from crying out. But even as her climax receded, he wasn‟t finished with her. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulled her to a more upright position keeping himself buried inside her. He massaged her clit though her chest heaved and she begged him to stop—the sensation too much so soon after orgasm. But he didn‟t stop. She crested the wave of another climax, gasping for air as tears leaked down her cheeks. Burying himself inside her, he jerked and twitched, groaning as he too came. He rested his head against her shoulder, his breath rushing over her skin. Exhausted, she pressed her breasts against the cool wall. Once he withdrew, she turned to face him, a laugh bubbling up in her throat. “I can‟t believe we just…” she murmured, her hands roaming over her bared breasts. He disposed of the condom and zipped his trousers. Suddenly he moved forward and kissed her, his tongue filling her mouth. The mask felt oddly cool against her cheek. Savoring his taste and scent, she wrapped her arms around him and ran her hands over the bulges of muscle just beneath his clothes. Her head spun. Was this really happening or was she sound asleep, her subconscious weaving an elaborate fantasy? If this was a dream, she prayed she‟d never wake. As the kiss ended, she struggled to catch her breath. “You‟re everything I hoped you would be.” “You too, love.” He traced her chin with his fingertips. “And more.” A rustle outside the door snapped her back to reality. She whispered, “We shouldn‟t push our luck.” Righting her dress, she hurried to make herself presentable. He insisted on leaving the closet first to be sure the coast was clear. A few seconds later, he opened the storage room door, signaling for her to slip out. Grabbing her

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guitar case, he led her to the club‟s side exit. She trotted along as quickly as she could in stilettos. Hand over her mouth, she laughed with relief once they reached the back parking lot. He set down her guitar and took her in his arms. Caressing her face, he brushed his lips over hers and traced them with his tongue. Heat surged between her legs, she couldn‟t get enough of him—his taste, his scent, the warmth of his touch. “Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked. “We can go back to my place.” He kissed her gently before replying, “Not tonight. But soon.” “I don‟t want you to go.” She tightened her grip on his shoulders. “Tonight just started.” “I promise, next time we see each other, I‟ll stay the night.” He brushed his thumb over her lips. She nodded, casting her gaze to the ground. “Don‟t be sad.” He pressed his mouth to her cheek. He helped her into her car, giving her one last kiss as they parted. Lottie—no, not Lottie—Erika watched her phantom walk away, disappearing into the night just like the character from the book would‟ve. Her mind raced and her groin ached. Had all this really happened? Shaking her head, she struggled to make sense of his whirlwind departure.

***** Rushing down the street, he held the mask in place until he turned the corner. Then he stripped it off. He hadn‟t intended to leave her so soon, but the cheap spirit gum he‟d purchased at the costume shop wasn‟t strong enough. It was meant for a Halloween party, not anything that might work up a sweat. He‟d have to find some professional-grade adhesive before their next meeting. He wished he had on a jacket with a hood in case she drove by.

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A glance over his shoulder allayed his fears. She wasn‟t following him. Drawing in a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. Nerves had plagued him all night. He‟d almost wussed out, pacing around his living room, questioning his sanity. But as the time for their meeting slipped by, he couldn‟t bear the thought of standing her up. He‟d summoned all his courage and shown up, albeit late. Thankfully she hadn‟t sent him away. Despite his bravado with her, he‟d been terrified. And now the issue with the mask. He‟d narrowly avoided disaster. The stare from two drunken women confirmed his reticence to reveal himself to Erika. One of the women twittered and giggled. The other joined in. His face grew hot, setting his ears on fire. He wanted to turn around and growl at them, even roar like the monster he was sure they thought him to be. But he didn‟t. Instead, he hurried to the parking garage to collect his car. On the drive home, memories of being inside Erika flashed through his mind. So warm and wet. The fragrance of her skin. The way she moaned and trembled as she came. He rubbed his hard cock, adjusting it so that it didn‟t crush against his zipper. Yes, he‟d have to fix this mask issue, because he couldn‟t live without being inside her again.

***** Her watch beeped the hour at her. It was ten in the morning and Erika realized she‟d been staring at her computer screen for a good twenty minutes. Mondays at the evil day job never flew by but this one was dragging at an excruciatingly slow pace. She checked her watch again—10:01. Abandoning all pretense of work, she opened an IM screen and selected the Phantom from her contact list.

You there? Always for you.

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The reply came almost instantly. Excitement roiled in her belly, heat moving down her torso culminating between her legs.

I can‟t stop thinking about you. Me neither. And the things we did the other night. This all feels like a dream. *Pinch* did you feel that? LOL. Yeah. Guess I‟m not dreaming. You are amazing. I can still feel my hands on your body. Me too. And the scent of your pussy. The way you whimper when you come. OMG! I‟m at work. So am I. What‟s that matter?

She chuckled, glancing up to verify that her boss was ensconced in his office. Was it her imagination or was he looking right at her? She waved at him and he returned the salutation.

My boss is watching me. Tell him to screw off, you‟re taken. Can‟t blame him though. If my office were facing your desk, I‟d stare at you all day too. You‟re so bad. :) But in a good way. Yeah. In a good way. Talk to you tonight, Little Lottie. Tonight, Phantom.

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Erika logged out and locked her computer before she left her cubicle. In the office kitchen, a group of workers had gathered for the usual coffee break, clucking away like caged hens. “How was your weekend, Erika?” one woman asked. “Oh just the same old, same old,” Erika replied, suppressing a smirk. As her coworker resumed her conversation with the lady from accounting, Erika hummed to herself, pouring a cup of dubious-looking java. Yep, just the same old, same old. Got all tarted up, played a gig at the role-players‟ club and then had wild animal sex with a masked man. God, if the chicken coop only knew. A smile on her lips, Erika returned to her desk. Only seven more hours and she could go home.

***** “What do you mean the chord progression is stilted? It‟s perfect,” the Phantom

wrote.

No way. I think it sounds better like this.

Erika sent him the file she‟d recorded earlier in the evening. The new piece they were working on wasn‟t flowing like it usually did. After he‟d listened he replied.

I suppose it‟s not horrible the way you‟ve reworked it. Gee, thanks, lol…so maybe this Saturday we can compose something in the same room for once. Maybe. If you want, but I have other plans for Saturday. Oh yeah? Like what?

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Maybe something along the lines of last Saturday, only this time I get to pleasure you all night. Yes, no hit and run this time, please…THAT I could get with. :) Why don‟t you come to my place. Maybe. Or I could come to yours unless you really live in the sewers of Paris, then I‟m thinking not. LOL. I don‟t live in a sewer, but your place is good.

Erika had butterflies in her stomach when she responded.

Cool. 8pm. Don‟t be late. If I‟m late, will you spank me? WEG. Keep giving me a „wicked evil grin‟ and I‟ll let you spank me.

As soon as she‟d sent the reply, she regretted it. What was she thinking? But that was the effect he had on her. For some reason all her secret desires bubbled to the surface with him.

O.O Do you really want me to spank you? Don‟t get all excited. I was just kidding. I don‟t think you were.

She chewed at her bottom lip as she typed.

Let‟s just get back to the song. You don‟t have to be embarrassed. I‟ll do whatever you want me to do. I‟m open to it.

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Her cheeks burned and her chest felt tight but despite the mortification, a familiar tingle had begun between her legs.

We‟ll talk about it Saturday. As you wish… So let‟s fix what you did to my song.

Erika let out a relieved giggle.

Whatever :P.

***** August 14, 2001 3:00 p.m.

Desiree was so pretty when she smiled. Hell, she was beautiful 24/7, but especially when she smiled. Her eyes sparkled as she laughed and passed him the joint. He took a hit and gave it back to her. Cracking open another beer, he took a swig. “You want one?” he asked. “No.” She snickered. She always got the giggles when she was stoned. Flopping backward, she stretched out her long legs in the grass. He lay down next to her. Fat, fluffy white clouds inched across the blue sky. The sun crept lower. She threaded her fingers in his hair and rolled onto her side. Her lips met his. Though he‟d closed his eyes, he could still see the clouds and the sky. As she slipped her tongue into his mouth, he saw her skipping through a field of flowers. He chuckled. God, he was high. When she reached inside his swim trunks and circled her hand around his stiff cock, the laughter died in his chest, replaced by heat and hunger. He pulled her on top

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of him. Her hair spilled around his face, her scent enveloped him. His pulse pounded between his legs and he couldn‟t free himself from his trunks fast enough.

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Chapter Three Though she‟d been expecting it, the knock startled Erika. She smoothed the bodice of her strapless dress and, with a deep breath, pulled open the front door. The Phantom‟s large frame filled the doorway, the same mask hiding his features. “Hey.” She grinned. “Come in.” In one fluid motion, he entered her condo and wrapped his arms around her. Crushing his mouth to hers, he coaxed her lips open and slid his tongue over hers. Breathless, she pushed him away gently, stammering, “I-I thought we‟d talk, have some wine…” She took a moment to drink in his appearance—a black dress shirt and black pants with a white silk scarf hanging loosely around his neck. And of course a white mask covered most of his face except his chin and mouth. Despite the dark clothing, his muscular build was apparent beneath it. As always, he portrayed a beautifully wrapped contradiction. Black and white. Strong but timid. Mysterious but completely open. Well…not completely. His raspy voice intruded on her musings. “Haven‟t we chatted enough online this week?” He ran his hand up her thigh, hooking a thumb in the waistband of her panties. “But if you want…” “No.” She wrapped a leg around him, pressing against his hard abdomen. “Silly me, what was I thinking?” Without warning, he scooped her up. “Which way to your bedroom?” She pointed to the right. Carrying her down the hall seemed to take little effort. In her room he laid her out on the bed, sitting next to her. From his pocket, he pulled several strips of satiny fabric.

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As soon as she realized what they were for, she bolted upright. Fantasizing about bondage and allowing him to tie her up were two very different things. “What do you think you‟re going to do with those?” “Relax, love.” He caressed her face. “We won‟t do anything you don‟t want to do. I thought this was what you wanted.” A flush spread through her chest and raced between her thighs. “I do. But…” His hand meandered down her torso, grazing over her erect nipple. “But…?” Her heart nearly clattered out of her chest. Easing herself backward to lie on the bed, she wondered what spell he held over her. The boundaries he helped her cross— they intoxicated her, but she‟d never trust anyone else like this. “Do you remember the safe word?” he asked. “Chandelier.” He nodded, his fingers hitching up the skirt of her dress. “So…?” She swallowed hard. “Okay. But if it turns out to be too much—” “I‟ll stop.” He stood, pulling one of the ties through his hand. “I just want to please you, Erika.” His words held her fear at bay, the heat building between her legs winning out over the nervous churning of her stomach. Her hand trembling, she reached out to touch his mask but he shied away. A surge of empathy coursed through her. Just what fueled his fear, she couldn‟t say, but she knew one thing for sure—they were the same. Two people afraid of the real world and somehow they‟d wound up here together, playing this game. But it was their game. Their rules. She pulled him to her, kissing him gently at first, then more urgently as she breathed in his scent. Her lips still to his she murmured, “Let‟s do this.” Without words, he spread out her limbs, carefully binding her arms to the posts of her headboard. Her cheeks flamed, the warmth spreading down her body reaching a

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pinnacle between her thighs. Her pussy throbbed, aching for him, and he‟d only just begun. Unzipping the side closure of her dress, he pulled it down her body and discarded it on the floor. Cool air rushed over her bare torso and she shivered. He took off her panties, inhaling their scent before dropping them to the floor. “Smells so good.” He crawled onto the bed, parting her legs. She twittered, goose bumps rising on her skin. As he kissed a trail from her knee to her groin he whispered to her, but she couldn‟t hear his words over the blood roaring in her ears. He swiped her labia with his tongue and a jolt of pleasure shot through her. “Tastes good too,” he said. She groaned, clenching her fists. She longed to run her hands over his skin, the expanse of this back. “Take off your shirt,” she said. “At least let me look at you if I can‟t touch you.” “Not yet.” He shook his head, the mask grazing the insides of her thighs. She shivered. His tongue plunged inside her, hot and wet. With a moan, she pulled at the restraints again. He ran the tip of his tongue up to her clit, massaging the tight bud. More pleasure rippled through her body, her mouth falling open as her breath quickened. She wrapped her legs around his shoulders but he slipped out of their grasp. “So impatient,” he scolded. Writhing against the bed, she replied, “Well, this is all new for me.” A mischievous smile twisted his lips. “Me too.” “You don‟t do this with all the girls?” she teased. He chuffed a humorless laugh. “No.” Running a hand over her torso, he settled between her thighs, his lips on hers. He slid his tongue into her mouth, softly playing with hers. She breathed in his scent,

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nuzzling her nose against his cheek as if she could inhale all of him. His hard cock pressed against her hipbone. She was wet and ready for him but she knew he had no intention of making love to her yet. All too soon their mouths parted and he moved off her, curling up next to her. Plucking her e-reader from the nightstand, he turned on the bedside lamp. “What are you doing?” she asked but he didn‟t answer. He scrolled through the long list of titles, clearly searching for something specific. “What are you doing?” she repeated. He held up a finger, a smile parting his lips. “Close your eyes.” Though she didn‟t understand why, she did as she was told. She felt him move closer, his breath tickling her ear. A shiver passed through her. “„The challenge is there between us now. I can feel the soft cashmere against my heavy breasts, the turgid tips painfully sensitive‟,” he read from one of her favorite books, Hide and Secret by Denysé Bridger. If she‟d read it once, she‟d read it a hundred times. He went on, “„You know too—I can see it in your eyes. Before I can catch it, you slide one of your hands under my skirt and penetrate me with your fingers. A spasm of shocked pleasure rockets through me and the sound of your fingers moving inside me is a moist whisper in the silent tension of the room‟.” As he read, he slid his hands between her legs, pushing two fingers inside her. Erika gasped, her body aching for more of him, but she was powerless to act on the desire. He read more, his fingers moving inside her, “„Carefully I ease forward to the edge of the sofa and your fingers delve deeper. I pull the sweater over my head and toss it aside, then I stroke my breasts, cupping and offering them to you. Grinning, you bend and you lick, circling a rigid tip over and over before you take it into your mouth and suckle, first one nipple then lavishing the same attention on the other. Between my legs, your fingers are exploring, slick and sticky as you stroke and glide in and out of me‟.”

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Leaning forward, he traced a tight nipple with his tongue and raked his teeth across it. Her body tingling from head to toe, she moaned, arching her back. He worked his fingers and pulses of pleasure overtook her. His voice soft and low, he continued to read the sexiest passages she‟d marked in the story. Using a slow rhythm, he moved his fingers in and out of her, each flex of his forefinger taking her closer to climaxing. “Faster,” she begged, but he kept a steady pace. Her body was trembling, so near release, but it remained just out of reach. “Play with my clit. Please, I need to come,” she said, praying this time he would acquiesce. He set the e-reader aside and withdrew his fingers. Groaning in protest, she writhed and stamped a foot against the mattress. Another tie in hand, he ran it down her thigh and grasped her ankle. Once he‟d lashed it to the footboard, her knee bent, he did the same with her other leg. She lay completely helpless, splayed out for him, her pussy throbbing. “Is this your plan? To tease me all night?” she asked, pulling against the restraints. Passing a hand over her mound, one finger caressing her clitoris, he grinned. “I don‟t have a plan but don‟t worry. I promise I‟ll make you come several times tonight.” With that declaration he climbed onto the bed, settling between her legs. He spread her labia, exposing the sensitive bud of nerve endings. The heat of his tongue on her pussy intensified the already unbearable ache. Using just the tip, he flicked at her clit. Overwhelmed by the sensation, she panted and moaned, her legs shaking. She sighed. “I‟m going to come.” He pulled away again. “No.” She jerked at the ties that bound her hands, clenching her eyes shut. Teardrops leaked down the sides of her face. “Please make me come. Please.” “You know I love when you beg me.” His breath grazed her swollen pussy.

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“Is that what I have to do? Beg you?” “Couldn‟t hurt. Tell me what you want.” “I want to come.” “More than that.” With the lightest of touches, he strummed her clitoris. “Do you want me to make love to you?” “Yes.” “How? Slowly and sensually or hard and fast like the other night?” She wasn‟t sure which answer would get her what she wanted, but ever since he‟d fucked her so exquisitely last Saturday, she‟d longed for him to take her like that again. Even now, her body burned at the thought of him getting a little rough with her. “Hard and fast,” she murmured. “I liked that you were…forceful with me. It turns me on.” Though she heard herself speaking the words, she could hardly believe she‟d uttered them. Her own boldness spurred on her arousal, the tension between her legs unbearable now. “Really?” The lilt in his tone indicated how pleased he was by her choice. He moved around the bed, untying her legs completely, but her arms he released only from the headboard. He left the ties around her wrists and wound the other ends around his hand. Pulling her to a seated position at the edge of the bed, he stood before her. “Take my scarf. Tie it over your eyes,” he told her. Hands trembling, she did as instructed. She was unable to see, her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Once he let go of the restraints, she heard him undo his zipper. His hand cupped her face and guided her mouth to his erect cock. Running her tongue over the soft head, she let a little saliva run down the shaft. After a couple of playful passes, she took him into her mouth. A groan escaped him. “Take all of it.” He thrust forward.

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Eager to please him, she moved her lips to the base, doing her best to suppress her gag reflex. “Yeah, that‟s good.” Encouraged by his praise, she applied pressure with her tongue and lips as she worked up to the tip then down the shaft again. Erika did this over and over until he gasped and pulled away. Without warning he bowled her over, his mouth on hers as he pushed her knees up to her chest. She heard the tear of the condom wrapper and a few second later he was inside her. Crying out a little, she grasped at his shirt. “Did I hurt you?” he murmured, his mouth still against hers. “Not in a bad way.” She hooked a leg around him. A mischievous growl rumbled in his chest. His tongue licking at hers, he thrust into her over and over. His pelvis slapped at her ass, stinging a little then a lot the harder he fucked her, but the pain only added to the gorgeous heat and tension building inside her. The wetter her pussy grew, the more powerful his thrusts became. “Yes,” she cried, threading her fingers in his hair. In this moment, her body belonged to him. Ecstasy feeding on just the right amount of agony took her higher. She‟d never let anyone have her like this, but then this was no ordinary man. This was her phantom. Her dream come to life. She ached to come for him, to feel him release inside her, their bodies and souls one, if only for tonight. Breaking free of her mouth, he pulled her closer to the edge of the mattress and freed the leg she held tight around him. He pinned her thighs apart, one thumb working her clit, and drove himself into her. Her body spasmed, her pussy tightening around his cock. She forced a few jerky breaths into her lungs, clutching at the hands holding her open.

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Please don’t stop, she said a silent prayer. And he didn‟t. A massive orgasm washed over her, her body quaking, her cries uncontrollable. Powerful muscle contractions sent wave after wave of pleasure through her. She gave herself over to the ecstasy enveloping her. She moaned and writhed against the bed, able to do little else. Slowly, the intensity of the sensations faded and she descended from the peak, but he wasn‟t through with her yet. Changing his rhythm to shorter, faster strokes, he continued to toy with her clit. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. He‟d done this to her last time, made her come again before she was ready. “Too soon,” she said. Her objections fell on deaf ears—he continued to massage her clitoris. Her eyes watered and she set her jaw, fresh spasms rocking her body. Another climax took her and she arched her back—frozen by the shock and intensity of it—hoarse cries dying in her throat. Arching his back too, he buried himself inside her, holding her flush against his pelvis. He jerked and twitched, sighing as he came. Slumped together, a heap of exhausted flesh, she nestled her head in the crook of his neck. The musk of his skin somehow comforted her, the raw heat of arousal replaced by warmth—the feeling that she was home at last. Giving her cheek a gentle kiss he withdrew from her. She pushed the blindfold from her eyes and glimpsed a little of his torso. A few buttons had popped on his shirt and he was fastening them and the closure on his pants. Something caught her eye, something out of place, unusual. A flash of darkness on his otherwise fair skin. Perhaps a pebbled, uneven texture along the left side of his abdomen. “Is that a scar?” She reached out to reveal the skin again. He turned away. “I didn‟t say you could take off the blindfold.” Once he‟d tucked in his shirttails and disposed of the condom, he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back still to her. 38

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“I didn‟t mean to upset you.” She moved to sit beside him. “You didn‟t.” But his tone contradicted his words. Unsure what else to do, she untied her wrists and cast the restraints to the floor. Lowering herself onto her side, she snuggled against him. “Read to me some more. Please.” At first he didn‟t respond. He rubbed his palms against his trousers and let out a heavy sigh. “Please,” she repeated. He picked up the e-reader and clicked through the selections. Easing himself back, he lay beside her. One arm around her, he positioned her head on his shoulder. His deep voice, both amplified and muffled by the proximity of her ear to his chest, formed a comforting drone. She smiled at the book he‟d selected. Phantom of the Opera. And to her surprise, he read scenes with Christine and Raoul. “That‟s funny,” she murmured. “What?” “I thought you‟d rather read about Christine and the Phantom.” She felt him shake his head. “No.” “Why not?” He chuffed a halfhearted sigh. “I‟d much rather be Raoul than the Phantom.” “Why? The Phantom‟s the more romantic figure.” “Maybe. But Raoul gets the girl.” His admission tugged at her heart and she found herself at a loss for words. Clearly someone had been very unkind to him. But how and why? He was the most exciting man she‟d ever met…well, sort of met. He could be funny, he could be gentle. He knew how to take control and when to relinquish it. He was everything she wanted in a lover. 39

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“I‟d pick you over Raoul any day,” she said softly. He kissed the top of her head and continued reading until she drifted off to sleep.

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Chapter Four Waking with a start, Erika reached for the body next to her. The Phantom stroked her hand. “Shh, love. I‟m here.” Covering his hand with hers, she replied, “I thought I might‟ve missed you leaving.” He sat up and kissed her gently, the mask cool against her cheek. “How long was I asleep?” she asked. “A couple hours.” “Felt like longer.” She yawned. “I like having you here. I feel safe.” Cupping her face in his hands, he leaned in again, running his mouth over hers, sliding his tongue between her lips. The neighborhood had grown quiet and she felt as though they were the only two people in the world. How she wished that were true, that the real world would never intrude on them. As their lips parted, she let out a long, slow breath. Suddenly aware of her naked body, she pointed to his clothed form. “You‟re still dressed.” He nodded. “Why?” she asked. The word hung heavily between them but he offered no explanation.

Erika‟s gaze bored into him. Patient yet pleading, her expression couldn‟t have cut him deeper. Why? she‟d asked. He‟d asked this question of himself hundreds of times. Just go up to her, talk to her. What’s the worst that happens? She’s not interested. He‟d survived heartbreak in the past…hadn‟t he?

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No, not survived. Not as a whole person. And what piece of himself would he lose if Erika turned him away? Or if she laughed at him? Or worse—if she gave him that piteous look, the one he‟d learned to live with, but not from her. He couldn‟t stand it from her. Desperate to please her, he racked his brain for a solution. “Just a second,” he whispered. Scrambling to his feet, he looked for the scarf he‟d discarded earlier. Once he found it, he held out his hand. “Come here.” As the sheet fell away from her, he was taken by the beauty of her body and the grace of her movement. She stood before him, unabashed, her round breasts inviting him to take them in his mouth and suckle at each nipple. Ignoring the swell of his cock, he secured the blindfold over her eyes. He‟d take his time. Let her explore…as much as he could. “More games?” she asked, but not as impatiently as her words sounded at first. A smile played on her lips. Touching her fingertips to the silk scarf over her eyes, she laughed again. Clearly she liked his games, hopefully she‟d continue to indulge him. With a deep breath to steady himself, he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor. A shiver passed through him though the room was perfectly warm. Taking her hand in his, he pressed her palm to his chest. Her fingertips fluttered and she licked her lips. He guided her hand over her his torso, down to his pants. Allowing her to unbutton his trousers, he pushed his underwear down with them. As if by instinct, she gripped his cock then pushed her hand down it to caress his sac. Heat and desire surged through him. He needed to sink himself into her. Through clenched teeth, he sucked in a breath. Take your time, he reminded himself. Easier thought than done. He threaded his fingers in her hair and pulled her into another kiss. The feel of her bare skin against his set him on fire. It‟d been too long. Too long without really being touched. So many years without her kind of tenderness. He trembled, fighting with the

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emotions stirring inside him. Willing himself to stay in the moment, he let the kiss end, resting his forehead against hers. She slid her hands up his abdomen and he took hold of them again, placing them on his ass. With a squeeze, she whispered, “Nice.” “Thanks.” He chuckled. “Your body feels gorgeous. Let me see you.” One hand moved to her blindfold. “No.” He moved her hand away. “Will I ever get to look at you—all of you?” Would she? He hadn‟t decided that himself. “One day,” he said. She ran her palm over the head of his cock. His breath caught in his throat. “But you like when I touch you there.” “Of course I do. What‟s not to like?” A smile on her lips, she caressed the shaft, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through him. He‟d been as patient as he could be. His hands beneath her buttocks, he picked her up and deposited her on the bed. “Roll over.” She turned on to her stomach and he eased on top of her. Pinning her legs apart, he reached for one of the fresh condoms he‟d left on her nightstand. Once properly sheathed, he pushed himself inside her. She whimpered, spreading wider for him, and he loved that she did this. Excitement washed over him and, as deep as he pushed into her, he couldn‟t get enough. The slick heat of her pussy radiated through the condom. He shuddered. Think about baseball. He closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip. Controlling his movements, he kept a slow and steady pace despite the way she was grinding her ass against his pelvis. Bare skin to bare skin, the sensation drove him wild, her back a sea of porcelain, a smattering of freckles peppering her skin, her hips

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perfect and smooth. And with every stroke, she moaned, her voice faltering with apparent ecstasy. Think about baseball…yeah, right. Somehow he fought off the urge to fuck her hard, to make her scream out for more. This time, a rare moment of intimacy, he wanted to make it last as long as he could. His lips to her neck, he slipped a hand beneath her. Her clit was swollen so he used gentle pressure to massage it. Her moans turned into panting, her pussy tightened and he knew she was close. “You‟re so beautiful,” he whispered. A groan was her only response. Pressing her buttocks against his hips, she reached behind her and hooked her arm around his neck. Her body trembled beneath him. Shortening his thrusts, he worked to bring her to orgasm. Finally she cried out, a rush of liquid warmth enveloping his shaft. Her head tilted back, she sought out his lips. He kissed her hard, laving at her tongue as he delved deeper inside her. Though he‟d intended to make love to her longer, make her come at least once more, the contractions around his shaft pushed him over the edge. Pleasure gripped him, building to a powerful ejaculation. He broke free of her lips and sucked in a sharp breath. Shaking, he buried himself in her until the climax began to ebb. “God…” he murmured, resting his head against her shoulder. “Mm hm,” she replied, relaxing beneath him. Sweaty and spent, he eased out of her, disposing of the condom. She wriggled onto her side, still wearing the blindfold. “Just give me a second to dress and you can take that off.” He moved to the edge of the bed but she caught his hand. “If I keep it on, will you hold me, just like you are?”

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The request pierced his heart. He hadn‟t lain in bed, lazy and naked after sex with anyone in…in years. He felt as though he couldn‟t swallow, tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. She couldn‟t have asked for anything more perfect. Draping one of his arms over her, he spooned her. Again, the sensation of her skin on his sated a need he‟d neglected for too long. Except he‟d never realized how much he‟d missed this. And he‟d once been sure he didn‟t deserve to be this happy. “You‟re amazing.” He kissed the soft spot beneath her ear. “Same could be said for you.” With that, she fell asleep in his arms for the second time that evening.

***** August 14, 2001 3:30 p.m.

When Desiree came, she always squeezed her eyes shut. At least, she usually did. But this time she kept her eyes wide open, giving him all of her as she quaked beneath him. “You‟re beautiful,” he managed to say as he too came. Arching his back, he held himself inside her. After his body quieted, he settled on top of her but didn‟t withdraw, enjoying the sticky heat around his cock. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you too.” She brushed her lips over his, a languid kiss that seemed to go on for days. God, he wished they could stay at the lake for days, but school started on Monday. Finally his erection softened, forcing him to slip out of her. He rolled onto the blanket, pulling her to him. Her head on his chest, she stroked his sparse chest hair. “I can‟t believe how lucky I am,” he said before he could stop himself.

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“How so?” He swallowed. Could he confess this? Should he? Of course he had to. The feelings were too big to keep to himself. They pressed at this chest, threatening to choke him. “I used to th-think,” he stammered. Stupid stutter. It‟d made his childhood hell, but he‟d learned to control it. It only reared its ugly head when he was nervous or angry. He took a deep breath and started again. “I used to think all I ever wanted was to write music. When I got into the conservatory, I thought, at last I can focus on my compositions.” She nodded. “You write it and I‟ll dance to it.” “But now the music isn‟t enough.” Propping herself up on one elbow, she met his gaze. “It isn‟t?” “No. Since we met—Desiree, you’re my future.” She was smiling, he could feel it against his skin. “Am I crazy, getting this deep? I mean the summer‟s been amazing.” “You‟re not crazy.” Her blonde locks jostled as she shook her head. “I‟ve been thinking about it too. Dreaming—marriage after we graduate, the big house in Connecticut, the whole nine yards.” “Connecticut?” He balked. “I thought we‟d live in the city.” “Well, at first, of course—while we‟re working on our big breaks, but I‟m not raising kids in New York.” “Oh. I forgot about the kids,” he teased. “What were their names again?” “Aubrey, Jason and Thelonius.” “Thelonius? I don‟t think so.” “But he‟s one of your favorite musicians.” “As is Beethoven, but I don‟t plan on naming one of our children Ludwig.” “How about we name him after you?”

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“And what if they‟re all girls?” “Well, your name would work for a boy or girl.” He nodded. So much smarter than he, she had it all worked out. Best to go along with her plan for their life. Everything made more sense through her eyes. Settling her against his chest, he closed his eyes. He‟d need a nap and a couple of hours to sober up before the drive home.

***** At first Erika mistook the warmth of the sun on her naked body for her lover‟s caress but it lacked his tenderness and skill. She opened her eyes to find the world a soft fuzzy white. The scarf. She pushed it from her eyes and blinked, trying to focus. Turning on her side, she found a pink calla lily on the pillow next to her. Her phantom was gone. But really, she hadn‟t expected to find him here. As she stirred awake, her mind registered the strangeness of the gift. How had he known her favorite flower? Sitting up, she picked up the lily and touched it to her cheek. She pulled herself from the bed and trudged into the bathroom to relieve herself, then to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. A bottle of wine sat on the counter with a note.

Meant to give you this earlier, but we got…distracted. Hope you like it—P.

In her mind, she heard the timbre of his voice, the way he‟d pause just before he‟d murmur the word “distracted” and the sly smile that would accompany the word. Something about the way he spoke seemed at once familiar and odd, but she couldn‟t place it. Picking up the bottle, she studied it. Again, he‟d come up with something she loved. It was the latest release from a winery in southwest Virginia she frequently ordered from. Come to think of it, how had he known any of it? The flower, Hide and Secret, and now the wine?

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He was either the world‟s most attentive man or a crazy stalker—only a fine line separated the two. But something nagged at her. There was a reason he knew all these things about her. Could the Phantom be someone she knew in real life? And if so, why all the secrecy? The beauty of his touch last night and scenes of the mind-blowing sex played in her head. He knew her body as well as he knew her taste in books and wine. Desire for him flared between her thighs and she heard her own voice in her mind, crying for him. To hell with all her questions. No need to rock the boat. At least not now. She‟d been lonely for too damn long and she‟d take love however it came to her. Even if it wore a mask for reasons she didn‟t understand.

***** Hey, beautiful.

An instant message window popped open on Erika‟s laptop. The Phantom. Seven p.m. on the dot. Her heartbeat sped up.

Hey you :). Thanks for the wine. You‟re welcome. Do you like it? I love it, but I suspect you already knew that. Moi? WEG How did you know? A magician never reveals his tricks.

Memories of the night before set off butterflies in her stomach. Her pussy ached for him.

Last night was…let‟s put it this way, no one has ever touched me the way you do.

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As beautiful and brilliant as you are? That can‟t be true.

Her cheeks grew hot. Every time he called her beautiful, a voice inside her contradicted him. Her sister the beauty pageant queen was beautiful. Gorgeous. And her brother, doctor of chemistry at Bucknell, he was the brilliant one. Erika was, what were the words her mother used? Reliable. Punctual. Stable. How could Erika argue? She lived within her means, paid her bills on time, saved twenty percent of her income. While she didn‟t love her job, she did it to the best of her ability. She rarely called in sick and when she did, she really was sick. She balanced her checkbook every month, worked out three or four times a week—she flossed religiously. Most nights she spent with a good book. God, no wonder most men never noticed her. Just thinking about her life bored her to tears. That was until recently. If only her family knew about Erika‟s double life. If they knew about Little Lottie and her freaky affair with a masked man, what adjectives would her mother use then? She took a sip of wine and pulled her guitar out of its case.

I‟ve been working on the new song. Let‟s hear it :)

Recording the revamped melody, she let her insecurities slip away. Maybe she had moments of beauty and brilliance. If anyone could bring out these qualities in her, it was her phantom. Of that much, Erika was sure.

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Chapter Five The week had been a busy one. Mr. Raleigh would be traveling in and out of town for several days meeting with vendors in different locations. He‟d assigned Erika the task of preparing all the reports he‟d need. By Thursday she‟d crunched enough numbers to hold her a lifetime. “Isn‟t this what an assistant‟s for?” she muttered, collating the last of the documents. “What?” Mr. Raleigh asked. “Nothing.” She snapped the papers into a binder. “Here you go.” “Thanks so much for all your help.” He held her gaze. “Couldn‟t have done it without you.” “Right.” Skimming her hand as he picked up the reports, he said, “I‟m serious. Why don‟t you take Monday off? I won‟t be here to bother you.” His grin lit up his face in a way that melted her heart and set her naughty bits to tingling. “You don‟t bother me,” she said. “Liar.” He grinned again and his aim was true, piercing her heart as if it were Cupid‟s arrow. “How long will you be gone?” “A week and a half.” “Then can I take the whole week off?” she joked. “Ha ha. But seriously, take Monday for yourself—with pay.”

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Studying his deep brown eyes, she nodded. He stood close enough that she could smell his cologne and feel body heat coming off him in waves. With a hitch in her voice, she replied, “Thanks. I‟ll do that.” “See you next Monday. Don‟t miss me too much.” He exited the conference room. Though Erika wouldn‟t miss the mounds of mind-numbing work he deposited on her desk each day, she would miss watching him swagger through the office. With a sigh, she cleared the table of the leftover office supplies.

***** Guess what!

Erika took a sip of herbal tea.

It turns out you‟re a long, lost princess of a small Eastern Bloc country? LOL. No. But almost as good—I have a long weekend, if you could play hooky from work on Mon we‟d have three days together. How ever shall we entertain each other? :) Oh. Sorry, love. I wish I could spend the time with you, but I can‟t. I‟ve been meaning to tell you, I won‟t be able to see you this Saturday.

A lead weight tugged at her heart and she slouched in her chair. “What?” she said to herself. They‟d spent every Saturday together online, chatting or discussing her performance, even before they met in real life. Was it silly of her to assume they‟d spend every weekend together now?

Why not? Something I have to take care of, but I‟ll be back by next weekend. Sorry. Don‟t be. Not your fault. I was just really excited.

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I know. And I promise, I‟ll make it up to you OK… What am I going to do with myself all weekend? Well, you have your gig at Masquerade, right? Yeah. I have an idea, I‟ll bring my laptop and webcam, we can meet online. Sunday night, though. Can‟t do it Saturday.

While a video chat was far from ideal, it was better than nothing, better than the loneliness that plagued her in his absence.

OK. Sunday night it is.

Her excitement thoroughly deflated, she stared at the keyboard, at a loss for words.

I‟ve disappointed you. No. It‟s not your fault. It is what it is. I‟ll plan something really special for Sunday, I swear. It‟ll be just as good as if I was there.

She doubted the veracity of his statement, if not the intent.

I‟m sure it will be :)

***** Looking down at the outfit she had planned for tonight, Erika felt no rush of excitement—not like she usually would. The stockings, the corset, the organza skirt— none of it seemed any more special than the khaki slacks she often wore to the evil day job, but she dressed herself anyway. Then she attended to her makeup, but for the first 52

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time since she‟d created her stage persona, the kohl eyeliner, the wine-colored lipstick, the false eyelashes—they felt like a mask instead of an expression of the person buried deep inside her, bound by the need to do the “right” thing. She wasn‟t even sure what the “right” thing was anymore. Was it right to share the truest parts of herself with strangers and play a part with her family? Was it right that she‟d learned to live with being perceived as unexceptional? Was it okay for the people who loved her make her feel this way? No— that isn’t fair of me. She blotted her lipstick. No one could make her feel anything, but they could ignore, overlook, withhold praise. They could look right through her as if she didn‟t exist. How she processed their behavior, well, that was up to her, wasn‟t it? Clipping pink extensions at various intervals throughout her hair, she reminded herself that she‟d found someone who treated her as if she were an extraordinary woman. It was this knowledge that propelled her forward—out the door, guitar case in hand. By nine, her mood had deflated again. Even before they‟d met in real life, singing at Masquerade had become a private performance, something she did just for the Phantom. For his admiration. Without him there, what was the point of going on? But her singing hadn‟t started that way. It‟d been something she‟d done for herself, her guilty pleasure, something she did alone in her bedroom, a hairbrush as her microphone. Then one ordinary Sunday, she‟d found a hot-pink flyer stuffed under her windshield wiper. She‟d been at the mall running errands, lost in a sea of anonymous shoppers. Erika saw many of the other women as better dressed than she, confidence oozing from every pore. Beautiful hair, beautiful makeup, as if they‟d come from a meeting of a secret society to which Erika would never belong. They seemed to know something she did not. It was this perception combined with the advertisement for open auditions at a new club called Masquerade that had given birth to Lottie, though the process hadn‟t been

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easy. Meg had helped her with her makeup for the audition, but Erika had vomited and bolted for the parking lot twice before her turn to play. Luckily Meg had been an immovable obstacle to Erika chickening out. When she finally sang for the club owner, the man had risen out of his seat, nodding and clapping. As Lottie, Erika was no longer the lump of coal amidst glittering jewels. She owned the spotlight for once in her life and it felt spectacular. Ever since then, Masquerade had been her place to shine, simply because she now knew she could. “You started this for you,” she reminded herself under her breath. She took the stage and tried not to hurry through the songs. No matter how many times she told herself to slow down and enjoy herself, she couldn‟t muster the same flair, the same rush of adrenaline she usually felt. Not her best set, but she‟d gotten through it. Even once she‟d struck her final chord, she continued to hope the Phantom would appear, that his professed absence was just another of his games—something to keep her guessing—but by eleven thirty, she‟d abandoned all hope. She occupied a booth with Meg, trying to drown her sorrows in one vodka tonic after another. “Look at you,” said Meg, “you‟re fiending for the man.” Erika‟s first impulse was to contradict her friend, but who was she kidding? Resting her cheek on her hand, she nodded. “I am. I totally am. Go ahead and say it—I‟m pathetic.” “You‟re not pathetic, but you are sprung like a schoolgirl. I‟ve never seen you like this.” “He‟s perfect, Meg. So freaking perfect—except for the fact that, you know, at this rate we‟ll never get to go out to dinner and a movie like a normal couple.” “I thought normal was boring.”

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Erika huffed. “It is. But the mystery is killing me. I‟m dying to know who he is— then I don‟t want to know. I‟m all screwed up.” “You really have no idea?” “Not no idea. I think he‟s someone I know.” “Do tell.” Meg leaned in. “I mean think about it—he knows too much about me, but not in that superficial way, like he did research or something. I can‟t explain it. And there are lots of little things—like he started using my real name though I don‟t ever remember telling him what it is. Oh, and he knows my boss‟s office faces my desk.” “Maybe it‟s someone you work with. But then wouldn‟t you recognize his voice?” Meg knocked back a shot of tequila. “He always talks in this raspy, low tone. His pattern of speech sounds familiar but I can‟t place it. And if it‟s someone at work, then why all the role-playing? Why not just talk to me? Do you think he‟s just trying to be romantic?” “That—or he‟s married and can‟t be seen with you.” Erika groaned. “Why would you say that?” “He could be a wanted felon too.” “Meg!” “All valid possibilities.” Meg held up a finger at the waiter to order another round of drinks. “Why don‟t you just ask him?” “Just like that? „Hey, Phantom, do we work together?‟” “Well, yeah.” Meg grabbed Erika‟s cell phone. “What are you doing?” Erika tried to grab it but she was too slow. “I‟m going to ask him—on your behalf, of course.” “No. Give me my phone.” Erika made another unsuccessful attempt to snatch it out of her friend‟s hand. “Give me my phone.” “Too late.” Meg pressed send then handed over the device. 55

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“You‟re a bitch, you know that?” Erika stared at the phone as though she could will the message to arrest, mid-transmission. “What did you write?” “I asked him if he‟s someone you work with.” “I hate you. Really, I don‟t want to know who he is. It‟s just the booze talking.” “Oh hush. You‟ll thank me when you‟re out to dinner with your mystery man— sans mask.” Anxiety gripped Erika. What if the text pissed him off? Or worse—what if he revealed his true identity? Granted, the mystery was driving her nuts, but she didn‟t really want to know…did she? In all honesty, she had no desire to trade the fantasy for a reality that might pale in comparison. One drunken slip of the tongue and Meg was meddling in her business. Her phone screen flashed with new text message, interrupting her panic attack.

I was wondering when you would figure that out :) How was your set, love?

Relief washed over her. He wasn‟t upset nor had he confessed his true identity. Erika tapped out a quick reply.

No fun without you. I‟ll be back soon. See you online tomorrow. <3.

“So, did the world come to an end?” Meg teased. “No.” “So let me get this straight—you know his cell phone number and you‟re dying to know who he really is—at least part of your fractured personality is. Why don‟t you do a reverse lookup?”

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Erika‟s cheeks grew hot as the waiter dropped off fresh drinks. She took a sip, letting the vodka sear a path down her throat before she answered. “I already tried that. It‟s a burner, no name or address associated with it.” Choking on tequila and laughter, Meg sputtered, “But you don‟t want to know who he is, huh?” “Shut up.” Erika snickered.

***** Arranging the webcam so that it focused on the wingback chair in her living room, Erika settled her laptop on the ottoman. Her Sunday night date with the Phantom. She looked down at her outfit—a loose-fitting blazer, tight camisole, high heels, G-string and fedora. Not that she planned to perform a full-out striptease to music, but she was going for something like the You Can Leave Your Hat On scene in 9 ½ Weeks. She gave her hair one more tousle and settled into the chair. When she connected with the video chat service, she smiled to herself—the Phantom was already logged in, waiting for her. She clicked the option to allow him to see her. His image appeared on-screen—black shirt, black pants and of course the mask. The room was dimly lit by a few lamps. He pursed his lips and let out a low catcall. “Wow—that‟s a hell of an outfit.” “Thanks.” Rubbing her thighs, she grinned self-consciously. “Where are you? Looks like a hotel room.” “Told you I don‟t live in the sewers.” He chuckled. “You live in a hotel room?” “I didn‟t say that either.” Never a straight answer—not that she expected one. Spreading her legs, she opened the button on the blazer to expose the skimpy lingerie beneath. “My god.” He licked his lips. “I was going to play a little guitar for you, sing to you—but now I don‟t think I can.” 57

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His hand strayed to the bulge in his pants, rubbing himself. “I can change if you don‟t like the outfit,” she teased. “Don‟t you dare.” Emboldened by the way he was staring at her from behind the mask, she licked her fingertips and skimmed them over her thighs. “Take off your panties,” he said. At first she was going to comply, but then she decided not to. “Play for me first.” A sly smile parted his lips. “How about I play and you play at the same time.” “Deal.” He slid his guitar onto his lap, gave it a few strums and then plucked out a few sweet sexy notes, his deep baritone crooning a song she‟d never heard. The lyrics spoke of beauty, sensuality, a woman‟s touch making the ordinary extraordinary. The rhythm was unusual, making unexpected switches, more typical of electronica but somehow worked with the acoustic guitar. “Did you write this?” she asked, rubbing between her thighs. “For you.” He continued to strum the guitar. “It makes me feel sexy.” “Show me, then.” Running her palm over her torso, she worked her way up to her breasts, brushing her nipples through the silky fabric. The throbbing between her legs seemed to keep time with the music. He started to sing again, the same low, gravelly voice he always used. Slowly shedding the blazer, she let it slide off each shoulder, dropping it onto the floor. Scooping one breast from the camisole, she ran her tongue over it. “Oh god,” he moaned, interrupting the song. “Keep playing. “Take off your panties. I want to see your pussy.” 58

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Shaking her head, she said, “Not yet.” A playful grimace on his lips, he started playing again—this time no lyrics, only a slow, sensual loop of notes. One strap at a time, she worked the camisole down around her waist. Her nipples drew into tight buds. His gaze focused on them but he continued to play. “Panties.” The word came out as a growl. Hooking her thumb in the waist of the undies, she stretched the elastic strings, twisting them around her fingers, but didn‟t shed them just yet. “You‟re a tease.” He chuckled. “Oh yeah?” She edged the panties down, exposing a bit of pubic hair. Watching his breathing pick up speed, she inched the thong down a little lower, then she slid it down her legs but clamped her thighs shut. “What do I have to do to get a peek?” he asked, still playing but his gaze fixed on her. “Take off something you‟re wearing,” she replied. “No deal.” “I want to see you.” He stopped strumming the guitar and set it aside, his fingertips to his chin. “One second.” Erika watched as he stood and turned off the lights around the room except the floor lamp behind his chair. Now backlit, he took a seat, his silhouette all that was visible. “You‟re the tease,” she said, shaking her head and smiling. His fingers strayed to the buttons on his shirt. “You want me to undress or not?” “I do.”

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One by one, he popped the buttons then slipped out of the shirt, discarding it on the floor. Though she couldn‟t make out any details, she drank in the outline of his broad shoulders and muscular arms. She let her legs open a little, sliding a hand between her thighs. “Now the pants.” “You said I only had to take off one thing.” “I lied.” He let out a throaty laugh as he stood, the light behind him accenting his trim waist. “If I take off my pants, then do I get to see?” “Yes.” “How do I know you aren‟t lying again?” “You don‟t.” She rubbed her hand over one thigh. “Only one way to find out.” Stripping off his belt, he threw it aside and undid the closure on his pants, but he didn‟t take them off. Instead, he let them slip down to his hips, holding them there. “Open your legs more,” he instructed. Hand over her pussy, she spread her legs a little farther. He pushed his pants down a little more. “Open up.” She spread her legs apart but didn‟t move her hand. Releasing them, he let his pants and underwear fall to the floor. His silhouette resembled that of an ancient Greek statue. Her entire body tingled with the memory of his skin pressed to hers. She longed to run her tongue over every sculpted inch of him, to suck on his cock until it was good and wet, and then he‟d take her. She shivered at the memory of him filling her. “Let me see,” he said, taking a seat. She trailed her hands down her legs, completely exposed, her labia throbbing harder. “Such a pretty little pussy. I miss the scent of it,” he told her. “Let me watch you touch yourself.” 60

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Without hesitation, she licked a finger and pushed it inside her opening. “Yeah.” He groaned and she could tell he was rubbing his cock, though she couldn‟t make out the details of the movement. “Tell me what you like.” Gliding her finger over her clit then back inside, she murmured, “I like the way you kiss me.” “What else?” “That I feel I can do anything with you.” “What else? Do you like the way I fuck you?” The word sent a jolt of electricity through her. A flash of memory captured her, his hand in her hair, tugging her head back as he thrust into her. “Yes. I like when you pull my hair.” The admission came out with a rush of breath. “And when you fuck me hard.” He groaned as he stroked himself. Emboldened by this reaction, Erika went on. “No one‟s ever tied me up before, I didn‟t know how much that would turn me on. But I like it. I love it.” A flush of fire spread through her, her pussy wet and throbbing, but every time she got close to climaxing, the pinnacle ebbed out of reach. As much as she liked her own touch, she wanted more. Apparently noticing her frustration, he asked, “What do you usually use when you play with yourself?” She withdrew her fingers. “What do you mean?” “I want to see what you do when I‟m not there. Do you have a vibrator or dildo?” Again, his directness both excited and embarrassed her. “I-I don‟t know.” “Yes, you do.” He rose and switched off the lamp behind him then took his seat again. “Pretend I‟m not here.” “Okay.” She laughed nervously. “Gimme a sec.”

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Chapter Six Scurrying to her bedroom, Erika grabbed her vibrator from her bedside drawer. Blood roared in her ears. Was she really going to do this? What power did he hold over her? He pushed her to break down all her barriers, throw out all her inhibitions. She steeled herself with a deep breath then stepped in front of the webcam again. When she returned, she asked, “How do you want me?” “Just do what pleases you.” His disembodied voice came through her computer. “Could you—” She stopped, reaching for what she wanted to say. “Turn the light on again. Please.” He did as asked. Though she could only make out his silhouette, she liked the idea that she could see him, have him there with her as she performed. Never in her life had she been so brazen and she needed his gentle guidance. “Tell me what to do.” She sat, gripping the device as though she could squeeze it tightly enough to make it disappear. “Just relax and pleasure yourself. I want to see what you do when you‟re alone.” But she was very aware that she wasn‟t alone. “What would you do first?” he prompted her. “I‟d turn on the vibrator and—and rub myself with it.” “Then do that.” With a deep breath, she turned the device on. It sprang to life in her hands and she almost dropped it. Glancing at the screen, she noticed he‟d settled back in his chair and was rubbing his cock again. Closing her eyes, she took a tentative swipe at her clit with the head of the vibrator. The burst of sensation sent a shiver through her. The more she toyed with her clit, the

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more relaxed she felt. She opened her eyes—he was touching himself too and somehow this made her feel less strange about the act. Gaze fixed on his body language, she stroked herself until her pussy ached and throbbed for release. One hand braced against the chair, she pushed the thick dildo inside her and adjusted the camera so he could see. “Yeah. Imagine that‟s me,” he rasped. She groaned, grinding against the seat. The vibrating nub outside her crushed against her clit. One hand strayed to her breasts, kneading and pulling at her nipples. “God, you‟re sexy,” he murmured. Her breath caught in her throat as she rode the vibrator as though it were her lover. Her hips bucked of their own accord as she braced herself for the building tide of pleasure. The air conditioner clicked on, cool air moving over her skin, adding to the pleasure of it all. She could smell her own arousal thick around her. Her legs shook, her pussy clenching the vibrator. A small whimper escaped her. She watched him twitch and spasm, perhaps coming with her. The orgasm gripped her, a full measure of ecstasy sweeping through her. Clutching at her own hair, she pulled at it and impaled herself on the vibrator. Her body quaked. A fine sheen of perspiration moistened her skin. She let her fingers trail down her torso to her pussy. Extracting the device and setting it aside, she closed her thighs, suddenly aware of the fact that he was quietly watching her. “So beautiful. I‟ll be home soon to take what‟s mine.” “I am yours.” She took a steadying breath, sure that she did belong to him—body, mind and soul.

***** Expectations low, Erika walked up the stairs at work. After Sunday‟s playtime with her phantom and her Monday off, she was loath to return to this place. Well, she was

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loath to do anything but be with him. She‟d become a junkie without a fix and he her personal addiction. Her drug of choice. But no—she was stuck here for the next eight hours. Rounding the corner to her desk, she noticed something out of place. Over her chair lay a bag of some kind. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a garment bag. Once she‟d unzipped it, she found an outfit—but not just any outfit, one she‟d admired on a discount designer clothing site. Even at the “discounted” price, she couldn‟t afford it. Not if she wanted to eat for the next month. She looked around at her coworkers. “Hey,” she called to Tanya across the aisle, “did you see who left this here?” Tanya shook her head. “No, sorry, hon.” Just then, Erika‟s phone chimed. She had a new text message.

Put them on.

Running her fingers over the smooth material, she debated with herself. This wasn‟t an ensemble she‟d usually wear at work—an espresso-colored pencil skirt with a slit up the side, low-cut silk blouse, sheer bra and panties. All in her size. Her gaze alighted on a pair of burgundy crocodile pumps sitting on her desk. With a sigh, she set the clothes aside and sank into her chair. Her phone sounded again.

Did you change yet?

Chewing at her thumbnail, she entered a reply.

Yes.

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Liar :)

Tired of struggling with the tiny keyboard on her phone, she logged into her social network account and sent the Phantom an instant message.

How did you know? I know everything. *insert evil laugh* I can‟t wear something like this here. Why not?

If she knew why herself, she would‟ve told him, but she wasn‟t quite sure.

I just don‟t dress like that. Little Lottie does. Even more provocatively.

She cast a longing look at the clothing.

You‟re a beautiful woman. You deserve beautiful things.

She looked down at her plain button-up blouse and khaki pants.

OK.

Rising from her desk, she headed to the ladies‟ room, bag in tow. As she stripped off her boring old outfit in a bathroom stall her phone trilled again.

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No way. Please. Only if you send a pic too.

Half a minute or so passed and she‟d given up on his response by the time it arrived—one word.

OK.

Fueled by excitement, she slipped on the new lingerie. Her heart pounding, she held her phone at arm‟s length and snapped a picture. She squinted at the screen at first, as if the image would be too painful to take in all at once, but was pleasantly surprised by what she saw. Lifted bosom, shapely hips wrapped in black lace. Before she could change her mind, Erika hit send. His response came quickly this time.

WOW! Where‟s my pic? Gimme sec.

She finished dressing. Each item fit as though it were made for her. When she opened the stall door, she hardly recognized herself. Emboldened by her appearance, she took her hair out of its sloppy ponytail and combed it with her fingers. Yes, she looked like a completely different woman. Once she tucked her other clothes into the bag, she headed for her desk. Her phone chirped. Excitement churned in her stomach as she opened the photo the Phantom had

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sent. It was a close-up of one side of his torso. Chiseled abs, muscular pecs—heat surged through her just looking at the body she longed to touch.

DAMN!

Focused on the phone screen, she nearly tripped over her boss. “Hazards of walking and texting,” Mr. Raleigh said, putting his own phone away. “Sorry.” She looked up at him, her face growing hot. “Oh my. Pardon me, miss, but where‟s my employee? Maybe you know her, she‟s about five feet tall. Red hair, green eyes, her name‟s Erika…oh, Erika. It is you,” he teased. With a twitter, she tugged at the neckline of the blouse, covering her cleavage. “Yeah, it‟s me. I spilled coffee on my other clothes,” she lied. “You should spill coffee on yourself more often. Great outfit.” The flush spread through her chest and to her ears. “Thanks. I didn‟t know you were going to be in today.” “Technically, I‟m not. Just dropped by to pick up some catalogs for a meeting in Fredericksburg.” He shook his briefcase. “If you need me, I‟ve got my cell.” She nodded and watched him walk away.

***** Send me another picture.

It was his third request in as many hours.

No. Just 1? I‟ll send another.

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Can‟t run 2 BR every time you want pic. Take it at ur desk :) Have u lost your mind?

A few minutes passed without reply and she‟d turned back to her data entry when her phone sounded again. Upon opening the picture message, she discovered he had indeed taken another photo of himself. At least a part of himself, a part that was quite erect. She licked her lips, longing to have the real thing before her so she could run her tongue over the drop of precum glistening at the head. Another message arrived.

Quid pro quooooo. Take it @ your desk. I dare u :)

Swallowing hard, she scooted her chair behind the low partition next to the opening of her workspace. Was she really going to do this? Before she gave it too much thought, she slipped her panties down her legs and shoved them in a desk drawer. Angling her phone beneath her skirt without drawing attention proved more of a challenge, but she managed to slip it between her legs without embarrassing herself. She cleared her throat to cover the electronic clicking sound the phone made when taking a photo. Once she‟d extracted the phone, she didn‟t dare look at the picture. She just hit send.

You‟re so hot. And you‟re insane.

She feigned indignation though her heart beat fast, her cheeks flushed with excitement and arousal.

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U know u love it.

Yes, she did, but she wasn‟t about to admit it to him. Her reluctance was part of the game, and overcoming it excited them both.

***** By the end of the day, she‟d worked up the courage to send him one more picture. It showed her licking at her own bare breast. She had, of course, gone to the restroom to take that one. The Phantom reciprocated by taking one of his ass peeking out of his jeans.

Oooh, really sexy. Glad u liked it.

The last half hour of work found her overstimulated and desperately missing the Phantom‟s touch. The photos had whipped her into a frenzy, which, she suspected, was his plan all along—including the new outfit as a surprise for her. As a surprise… The phrase circled her mind like water running down a drain. Her thoughts flowed along, one long stream of free association. Taking pictures. Thank god for camera phones. Cameras. “Cameras!” She said aloud, giving her an idea. Casting a glance up at the ceiling, she snatched up the receiver on her desk phone and called IT. “Hi, Cris, it‟s Erika.”

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“I-I know,” he said, amusement in his tone. “I can tell by the extension.” “Right. Um, I hate to ask this and if it‟ll get you in trouble totally feel free to say no.” “Okay, what‟s up?” “Uh, I think someone might have picked up something off my desk. I mean, I don‟t think anyone stole anything from me, per se, but you know, accidentally.” “What‟s missing?” Good question. She glanced around, grabbed a snow globe from her grandmother and stuffed it in her top drawer. “A little bauble my grandmother gave me.” “Oh yeah? Sorry to hear that.” “Thanks. So I was wondering if you could let me check the security camera video. Just to see if anyone accidentally walked away with it.” He chuckled. “Sure. Come on down. I‟ll queue it up for you.” “Thanks.” She replaced the receiver and dashed downstairs. He sat wearing one of his signature sweatshirts, hood up, scanning through the video. “H-h-hey, Erika.” “Hey, Cris. Thanks again for doing this.” “No problem. What time did your something from your desk go missing?” Chewing at her fingernail, she said, “Well, it was gone when I came in this morning so could we check as the first people came in this morning?” “Sure.” He backed up the footage. “The camera doesn‟t have a direct view of your workstation, but you can see the hallway.” “That‟ll have to do.” At such an early hour, few people moved around the office. A couple of the gals from Customer Service. Cristian with his duffel bag of tools. One of the truck drivers using the upstairs restroom.

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The driver exited, toilet paper stuck to the sole of one boot. Then she saw him. Mr. Raleigh walking in with a suit bag. He appeared on-screen for just a second as he turned the corner to his office, but he was definitely carrying something. Was it the garment bag? After Mr. Raleigh, Cristian passed by on his way out. “Hey, did you see anyone around my desk this morning?” she asked. “Sorry, I didn‟t. I just went up to f-f-fix,” he paused, “to fix a computer in Customer Service.” “Oh, that‟s okay. Could you back up the video so I can look one more time?” “Sure.” She watched for Mr. Raleigh‟s brief appearance but again, he passed by too quickly. Was it her clothes he was carrying? With the grainy quality of the video, she couldn‟t tell. But what were the odds Mr. Raleigh would be here during his time off carrying a bag? He had to have left the clothes for her which meant… With a deep breath, she tamped down her excitement, a smile tugging at her lips. “Did you f-find what you were looking for?” asked Cristian. Erika nodded. “I think I just might have.”

***** Shades of blue and violet from the falling dusk colored the dim light filtering into his apartment through the blinds. He didn‟t bother switching on the light as he toweled his body and hair dry. The hot shower had done him good after his workout. Muscles loose and mind relaxed, he pulled a pair of boxers from a drawer. The Phantom‟s mask stared at him with unseeing eyes from the top of the dresser. Running his fingertips over the smooth composite surface, he thought about his encounter with Erika today. She looked so damn pretty all dolled up at work. A smile of satisfaction tugged at his lips. He‟d known just what to buy for her.

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Stepping into his underwear, he picked up the mask and held it over his face. At once he felt more powerful, but he also felt a twinge of sorrow. How would she feel if she learned his true identity? No, not if—when. The game couldn‟t last forever. Hell, she‟d already figured out that they worked together. It wouldn‟t be long before she figured him out. The mask slipped from his grip and clattered against the hardwood floor. In this light, he liked the way he looked, obvious flaws obscured by the fading light. Maybe she‟d be happy if he revealed himself to her. Maybe she would fall into his arms, a smile on her face, the one that made his heart beat faster. He closed his eyes, imagining this scenario, but doubts gnawed at the pit of his stomach. Had anyone ever fallen into his arms laughing? Nope. Not since Desiree. Odds were Erika wouldn‟t either. As much as he wanted to reveal himself to her, he couldn‟t. He just couldn‟t. Disgusted with his own cowardice, he bent down to retrieve the mask and placed it on his dresser, turning away from his own reflection.

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Chapter Seven By Saturday night, Erika was dying with anticipation. She couldn‟t wait to see her phantom again. During last night‟s online conversation, he‟d been very clear how she should prepare for his arrival tonight—candles lit around her bedroom, her laptop set up on the dresser and she should be dressed in only the bra and panties he‟d given her. Ruffling her curls, she gave herself a final once-over in the floor-length mirror. She had to admit the lingerie accentuated the positive. One last dab of pink lip gloss and she was ready. At nine o‟clock on the dot, her buzzer rang. He was nothing if not prompt. Edging the door open, she peeked out to find him dressed all in black. “Hey, you.” She pulled the door wider to allow him to pass. He swept into the foyer, his musky cologne following in his wake. After she closed the door, she spun slowly to let him get a good look at her state of undress. “Gorgeous.” He breathed the word more than spoke it as he cradled her cheek in his hand. “I missed you.” Erika moved closer, gripping his hard biceps. “Not too much, I hope.” His lips glanced over hers, a whisper of a kiss, but then he pulled her closer, his tongue parting her lips. The phrase niggled at the back of her mind, but she lost her train of thought. The scent of his body and the heat of the kiss overwhelmed her. The kiss tapered off in a flurry of small pecks and he murmured, “Is everything set?” “Just as you instructed.”

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She led him to her bedroom, candlelight flickering, his mask seeming more ominous than ever. “Perfect.” He smiled, walking to her laptop. “Wait for me on the bed.” As he signed into some online account, she spread herself across her comforter, wondering what he had in store for her. Music filled the room, compositions they‟d worked on together and recordings of her singing. Gaze fixed on him, she watched as he pulled silk ties from his pocket. He sank onto the bed next to her, running a hand down her torso. A groan escaped him and he bit his lip as if he had to restrain himself. A moan from the video drew her attention to the images flashing across the laptop screen. Rolling on to her belly, she watched. Her eyes grew wide, her breath caught in her throat as she realized he‟d recorded her touching herself last week. “Why did you do this?” She drew herself onto her knees. “You don‟t like it?” Of course she didn‟t, but the tingling between her thighs contradicted her objections. Watching her own fingers pinch her nipples, the dildo disappearing inside her, a pulse of arousal racked her. “You‟re beautiful, aren‟t you?” His breath grazed her neck, sending a shiver through her. “I wouldn‟t say that.” She turned to press her lips against his but he caught her by the shoulders. “Keep watching.” His mouth alighted on her shoulder as he slid a restraint around her neck. She started. “What are you doing?” His lips still on her skin, he asked, “Do you remember the safe word?” “I do but—” “Just keep watching yourself. I promise, I won‟t hurt you.”

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Gaze trained on the video of herself set to their music, she felt him tie a slipknot around her neck then bind her wrists with the same strip of fabric. “I don‟t think we should—isn‟t this dangerous?” she asked. “Do you trust me?” “I do, but—” “Either you do or you don‟t. Tell me now,” he whispered in her ear. Erika imagined taking the risk, her body in her phantom‟s complete control. Any movement at all on her part would tighten the restraint around her neck. While the idea frightened her a little, her body also crackled with excitement. A fire raged in her belly and between her legs at the thought. Her pulse quickened. She ached to have him inside her, but did she trust him enough to relinquish all control? Pictures of him fucking her from behind flashed through her head as she watched the video of her touching her own body. Her vagina contracted, sending a miniature shock wave through her—a preview of pleasures to come, if only she‟d give herself over to the game. After taking a deep breath, she replied, “I trust you.” A heavy exhalation grazed her ear as if he‟d been holding his breath waiting for her answer. He moved into position behind her, his body so close she could feel the heat coming off it. The video began again, starting with her striptease. His lips brushed past her ear. “Tell me what you see.” She cleared her throat. “I see myself.” “And…” “And I‟m getting undressed for you.” “Just for me?” “Of course only for you.” She felt him shake his head. “I know, but I mean did you enjoy yourself too?” “Oh yes.” She nodded. “I felt sexy… Powerful.” 75

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“Why powerful?” “Because I could take my time, tease you. Turn you on and you couldn‟t do anything to hurry me.” “You like turning me on?” “Yes.” She watched her fingers disappear inside her wet slit. He gave the ties a light tug. “Rise up onto your knees.” Pulling herself from her haunches, she did as she was told. Past the laptop, she caught a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, brushing the tops of her breasts. The restraint around her neck stood out against her milky skin, her chest heaving with shallow, rapid breaths. Her pussy contracted again, burning for him. He wrested her panties down her thighs but didn‟t take them off. Her arms and legs essentially immobilized, she could do nothing but await his next move. The sound of a condom wrapper announced his intentions. Bending her a little at the waist, he circled an arm around her shoulders, supporting her so she didn‟t topple forward. His other hand held the restraint at her wrists, relieving some of the pressure on her neck. Once he adjusted her position, she felt his cock against her opening and he pushed himself inside her. She moaned, tilting her head back against his chest. He still wore his shirt. He moved the length of his shaft into her then worked out to the tip again, repeating this pattern slowly, her pussy wetter and wetter with each stroke. Erika longed for him to fuck her hard but could do nothing to speed up his pace, forced to move in time with him by the way he‟d bound her. “Harder.” She groaned. He chuckled and pulled gently on the restraint. Though she could breathe just as well as before, the tightness around her neck panicked her. She struggled to calm

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herself. Adrenaline rocketed through her, adding to the pleasure she already felt. The throbbing between her legs intensified. Continuing his slow rhythm, he ground his hips against her ass with each forward thrust. Juices dripped down her thighs, her legs quaking—the gradual build to climax seemed as if it might take forever. Her clit and labia were so swollen they hurt. She moaned and whimpered, pleading with him for release without words lest he tighten the noose around her neck even more. Her body burned, every nerve aflame, her gaze fixed on the image of herself riding her vibrator. She needed him to fuck her that way, let her ride his cock and make herself come, but clearly he was enjoying his power over her too much to give in—just as she‟d enjoyed teasing him during her striptease. Erika watched herself orgasm on the video screen, her pussy lips wet and swollen around the dildo. She couldn‟t stand it any longer. “Please,” she said, clutching her hands together. “Please what?” His tone betrayed his amusement. “Please make me come.” “You need it?” “Yes.” “You‟re begging me?” “Yes.” She closed her eyes, a silent prayer on her lips. Bending her farther forward, he nudged her legs wider apart. At that angle, he penetrated her more deeply, the tip of his cock stimulating her G-spot. She groaned, pleasure radiating from inside out to her entire body. Her pussy gripped him, tremors that began between her thighs overtaking her. He jerked on the ties hard enough to apply pressure to her throat but not enough to choke

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her. Again, panic shot through her. Mixed with the excitement of taking the risk, it filled her with more ecstasy than she‟d ever felt before. She heard herself crying out to him as if she were hearing someone else‟s voice. Her body quaked, violent tremors shook her, her pussy clamped around his shaft. The orgasm washed over her and rippled through her, each wave bringing a new level of sensation. Leaning against him, she let herself go slack, trickles of sweat dripping down her abdomen. The tide of pleasure ebbed and she struggled to catch her breath. He released his hold on the ties, slipping them off her wrists. Her arms free, she reached behind, pulling his mouth to hers. He began to move inside her again, pumping hard, his torso pressed to her back. The rest of her body relaxed, heat and tension built between her legs. With each slick stroke, he drove her closer to another climax. Her thighs shaking again, pleasure exploded inside her. He pulled her against him, his movements jerky and breath ragged as he came. He stroked her cheek, quivering and sighs marking their descent from the pinnacle of sensation. Carefully he withdrew from her and she slumped against the bed, exhausted. “Did I wear you out?” he asked, tracing the outline of her hips and freeing her neck from the noose. “Oh yeah.” A lazy smile tugged at her lips. “That was crazy.” “Did you like it?” Her eyes closed, she replayed the excitement of the pressure to her throat. A shiver passed through her. “I‟m embarrassed to admit it, but I did.” “I‟m glad.” He stroked her thighs and removed her panties. “I like pleasing you.” Opening her eyes, she saw that the video had begun again. On the screen, she watched herself laughing, baring her breasts. “I can‟t believe the things I do for you.”

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He walked over to the laptop and shut off the video then joined her in bed. “Do you regret doing them?” “No.” The answer came without hesitation. “No. In fact I don‟t think I can ever have vanilla sex again.” Chuckling, he pulled her to him and settled her on his chest. “Nothing about your life should ever be vanilla. You‟re too amazing for that.” “You‟re pretty amazing yourself.” She kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Circling his arm around her waist, he pressed a leg between her thighs. Her pussy throbbed, but in a pleasant way—as if he still filled her. His hand toyed with her sticky pubic hair and he teased her labia apart. “You‟re ready to go again?” She looked up at his masked face. “For you, I‟m always ready.” He pushed two fingers inside her, flicking his thumb over her clitoris. A moan on her lips, she spread her legs wider, hoping this dream would never end.

***** At happy hour on Monday, Erika rehashed the weekend for Meg in great detail. “I‟m so jealous.” Meg grimaced. “I‟m dying to get anyone to take me home and show me a good time and you hit the jackpot—handsome, sexy, mysterious and he knows how to fuck.” Erika took a sip of her vodka and tonic. “Well, I think he‟s handsome. His body is smoking. He still won‟t let me see his face.” “Maybe that‟s why he wears the mask. Maybe he‟s a „butter face‟. Or should that be „but-his-face‟? No, the pun doesn‟t work that way. Whatever. You know what I mean.” “I don‟t think he‟s a butter face. In fact, I think it‟s my boss. If it is Mr. Raleigh—” Meg giggled. “Wait, wait, wait. You think you‟ve had hot, nasty sex with the man, but you can‟t call him by his first name?”

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Erika chuckled too. “Do you even know his first name?” “I do. It‟s Vic…Victor. Yeah, it‟s Victor.” “You sure?” “Shut up. Anyway, if it is Victor, that would be like—wow. That would be better than the fantasy. I have to know.” “But what if it‟s not him?” “It has to be—who else would know the things the Phantom knows?” “Could be Sweating-While-I-Sit Guy from Accounting.” Erika shuddered. “Bite your tongue. And it‟s not Sweating-While-I-Sit Guy. As I said, the Phantom‟s body is rockin’.” “Could be Nose Picker from the warehouse.” “It‟s not,” Erika insisted. “I‟m just saying—don‟t ask a question you don‟t want the answer to. You nearly took my head off the other day for sending him a text.” Taking a deep breath, Erika considered her friend‟s advice. What if she was disappointed by the Phantom‟s real identity? But how could she be? Despite the fact that their physical relationship was limited to what he was willing to share with her, everything she knew about him as a person was real. His music, his kindness, the way he treated her—all of that was real. No one could fake the emotion he stirred in her. “It‟s different now. Meg, I‟ve fallen for him. I have to know who it is I‟m in love with.” Her friend shrugged. “If you‟re sure he feels the same way and that you‟ll feel the same way once everything comes to light… I just don‟t want you to get hurt, honey.” The Phantom would never hurt her. Of this much, Erika was sure.

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Chapter Eight At seven Wednesday evening, Erika logged in for her nightly chat with the Phantom.

Did you get any work done on the composition today? Nope. You wanna work on it now?

With a sigh, she typed her honest response.

Nope. Hey, what‟s wrong?

How to answer that question? Tell him the truth, pull back the curtain for better or worse. Or should she make up an excuse for her melancholy? No, she couldn‟t deny her feelings anymore. She just couldn‟t, no matter the cost.

I feel lonely. What? Why? I‟m always here for you, love. I know, but—and please don‟t take this the wrong way—sometimes it‟s not enough. Sometimes? Don‟t you ever want to go out to dinner or just hang out? We never even talk on the phone. It‟s all chats online and crazy sex on the weekends. You know? I think I get it. You‟re tired of being with me.

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No. That‟s not what I said. Erika…you know it‟s not that simple. But shouldn‟t it be? And that‟s another thing. You know my real name. You know who I am. You know what I look like. I don‟t even know your first name. Is that what you want? You want my first name? Would that make you feel better? What would make me feel better is to have you here with me. F2F, no mask, just chillin‟ on the sofa, watching TV or listening to music or writing music. Eating popcorn. Laughing. Making chitchat. I just want you. So that‟s what‟s wrong? I don‟t bore you to death with mundane activities? Don‟t be obtuse. You know what I mean. Fine, I do. But I‟m not sure I can do what you‟re asking. What are you so afraid of? I told you—I don‟t care what you look like. And how do you feel about me?

Do-or-die time. Her heart pounded, her palms grew moist. Did she dare admit to him that she‟d fallen for him despite the limitations he‟d imposed? Despite the fact that she saw only what he allowed her to see? And could she say with any confidence that she really loved him since she didn‟t know the real him? But she did love him, god help her.

I‟ve fallen in love with you.

Her mouth went dry as she stared at the screen, gaze fixed on the cursor, willing his reply to appear.

I love you too, Erika.

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I have for years now. And I want so much to believe that you feel the same for me, but you‟re right. I am afraid.

His honesty tugged at her heartstrings. He didn‟t have to be afraid of her or what she‟d think of him. If only he‟d share himself with her, she‟d make sure he never felt afraid again. Smiling to herself, she decided to go for broke. Maybe she could make confessing his identity easier for him.

Let‟s make a deal. What kind of deal? If I ask you questions about yourself, you have to answer them honestly. Erika, I don‟t think— Don‟t think, just humor me…Pretty please?

He took a few moments to reply, but finally he did.

OK.

She clapped her hands together. It was working, he was going to open up to her.

And if I guess correctly who you are, you have to tell me. *sigh* Fine. Fine. But you only get three questions. I thought the number three applied to wishes. Shouldn‟t I get twenty questions, lol? Three. That‟s it. OK, OK. First question—Do I see you every day at work? Most days—yes.

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Thank god. He‟d given the reply she expected. If he‟d said no she would‟ve been at a total loss. But she knew who he was. She was sure of it.

Are you known for a unique sense of clothing style? Umm…yeah, I guess you could say that.

Two down. Only one more question to confirm his identity.

Does your last name begin with an „R‟? LOL…yeah. I think you have figured out who I am. Why didn‟t you just tell me in the first place? Victor, I‟ve had the biggest crush on you for YEARS.

Nothing. The Phantom didn‟t respond.

What‟s wrong?

Still nothing, just an inert cursor, its blinking mocking her.

Victor?

The Phantom finally replied.

WRONG. What? But I can‟t think of anyone else who fits.

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Of course not, you‟ve had a crush on him for years. Good to know. But looks aren‟t important to you, right? They aren‟t. That‟s not why I thought you were him. You were hoping it was him under the mask because he‟s a good looking guy but did you know he‟s an asshole? Do you know he‟s slept with half the women in the office? And then he dumps them. But I guess if you want to be just another notch on his bedpost who am I to stand in your way? How do you know these things about him? Don‟t worry about how I know. I just do. I didn‟t mean to upset you. It‟s not that I was hoping he was you…

But her fingertips refused to type out the rest of the sentence because she knew she was lying. Somewhere, deep inside her, she‟d hoped Mr. Raleigh was her phantom. That the man she‟d been lusting after for years had noticed her too. That he‟d created this elaborate game for her, to fulfill her fantasies. But the more she considered the possibility, the more ridiculous she felt for harboring the idea in the first place. Mr. Raleigh—Victor—wasn‟t the kind of man who would do something like that. He strutted around like a peacock and peacocks didn‟t hide behind masks.

I‟m sorry.

Time seemed to stand still as she waited for a reply—a reply that didn‟t come. She typed the words again.

I‟m really sorry. Me too.

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And with those words the Phantom was gone, his avatar asleep, showing him as offline. Her throat tightened and tears welled in her eyes. “I‟m sorry.” She repeated the words aloud though there was no one there to hear them.

***** August 16, 2001 11:37 a.m.

Machines and tubes surrounded his girlfriend‟s inert body. “How bad is it?” he asked the nurse who‟d wheeled him to Desiree‟s room. “Too early to tell, but it doesn‟t look good.” Shaking and sick, he struggled to his feet. “You‟ll tear your stitches,” the nurse warned him. “I don‟t care.” He took Desiree‟s hand in his. “Baby, I‟m sorry.” His stomach churned and he fought back the urge to vomit. “Baby, I‟m sorry. I‟m so, so sorry,” he repeated, but Desiree didn‟t answer. He suspected she never would again. Tears wet the bandages on his face. Why her? Why not him? She was the beautiful one. The smart one. The sweetest, kindest person who ever lived. Not self-centered and arrogant like he was. Everyone loved her. He loved her, more than he loved himself. “It should be me lying here,” he said, his throat constricting. “Don‟t say that,” replied the nurse. “You‟ve got a long enough road ahead of you, hon.”

*****

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The weather had been dreadful all weekend, which was fine by Erika. The dark clouds matched her dark mood. The rain continued into Monday morning and she hadn‟t bothered to grab her raincoat or umbrella. Fuck it. Let the cold drizzle mar her blouse and ruin her mascara. Let her hair kink up into a rat‟s nest and the chill settle into her bones. Perhaps she‟d contract some dreadful-sounding condition like pleurisy or scarlet fever or something equally Dickensian. She felt as miserable as a character from a Dickens novel, might as well come to a tragic end like one. The Phantom hadn‟t written her for three days, not since she‟d guessed he was someone he wasn‟t—which yes, she could see how that would make him feel bad. But it wasn‟t all her fault. He was the one who insisted on all the secrecy. He was the one who never gave her a clear picture of who she was dealing with. Of course her mind was going to fill in the gaps, make him into the person she wanted him to be. Or at least the person she thought she wanted him to be. But if all the Phantom said about Mr. Raleigh was true… As she settled into her desk, she watched Mr. Raleigh move through the sea of desks, stopping to flirt with some of her coworkers, conspicuously avoiding others. How had Erika never noticed before? Mr. Raleigh was a man-whore. No wonder her phantom took so much offense. Well, he wasn‟t her phantom anymore, was he? Tears prickled in her eyes and she plucked a tissue from the box on her desk and blew her nose. She looked up to see Mr. Raleigh‟s handsome face over her, his expression a mixture of concern and repulsion. “Everything okay, Erika?” he asked. “Yes, I‟m fine.” “You don‟t look well. Do you need to take a sick day?” “I‟m fine,” she repeated, words tight and strained. “All righty then.” Her boss moved away. “Mr. Raleigh,” she called after him. “Have you ever read Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux?” 87

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He shook his head, chuckling. “I think I read the CliffsNotes in college. Why?” “No reason.” Shrugging apologetically, he closed himself in his office. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She wiped the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. How could she ever have thought…? She swiped at her wet lashes and turned her focus to work. Eying up the stack of data entry on her desk, Erika sighed. It was going to be a long day—even longer without the Phantom texting or chatting with her now and then. As she checked her inbox, the last trickle of hope drained from her body. Nothing from him, only three messages from Meg asking her how she was doing and why Erika wasn‟t answering her phone.

I fucked up and now the Phantom hates me. He won‟t even talk to me, What? What happened? Wait, don‟t tell me now. Drinks after work. I won‟t take no for an answer. Lots of drinks after work. Lots of drinks.

Erika hit send.

Atta girl ;)

***** The day had dragged on, minutes ticking by like Chinese water torture. Erika would work for what felt like hours to discover only ten minutes had passed, but then she blinked and her lunch hour had gone. There was no regularity to it, no predictability. The brief flashes during the day when she was actually present in the moment, paying attention to what she was doing, all seemed a disjointed patchwork of

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tasks completely unrelated to one another. Now she sat across from Meg as they plowed through a pitcher of margaritas, unsure of just how she‟d gotten here. Erika shook her head. “I just don‟t get it. All the clues pointed to Mr. Raleigh—the intimate knowledge of me. When Mr. Raleigh was gone, so was the Phantom. The security video. And then that thing he said about missing him „too much‟. How was I wrong?” “I don‟t know.” Meg stirred her drink. “Maybe you weren‟t. Maybe he just chickened out.” “No. That‟s not it. I asked Mr. Raleigh this morning if he‟d ever read Phantom of the Opera and he made some lame joke about CliffsNotes.” “Again, he could‟ve been deflecting.” “He wasn‟t. I could tell.” Meg sighed. “I don‟t know, hon. That‟s all really weird and I know you don‟t want to hear this, but maybe it‟s for the best. There‟s something wrong with the Phantom.” Tears brimmed in Erika‟s eyes. “Don‟t say that.” “But it‟s true.” “It‟s not,” Erika insisted. “He‟s sweet and passionate and attentive. He‟s everything I ever wanted.” “He hides behind a mask and an online persona and won‟t tell you his true identity.” Meg was right, Erika knew it, but somehow none of his oddities bothered her. Better to be touched by a phantom than not to be touched at all. Fat teardrops spilled down Erika‟s cheeks. “If there‟s something wrong with him then there‟s something really wrong with me.” Meg hugged her, rubbing her back and shushing her. “Don‟t cry, hon. There‟s a little something wrong with all of us.”

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Nodding as if she found comfort in her friend‟s words, Erika struggled to stop sobbing, but the truth was her heart was breaking and she was powerless to hold it together.

***** Thursday found Erika no more cheerful than Monday, though she no longer felt as though she were walking around in a fog. The heartbreak fresh, all she could do was avoid it. She spent every moment at work focused only on work—no minibreaks to check her email or chat online. She‟d given up surfing the internet altogether. She‟d burned through the latest vendor price updates—what normally would‟ve taken her a couple of weeks had taken only four days. She watched as the little hourglass icon on her computer screen turned over and over. The upload would soon be complete…until the little hourglass stopped dancing. “No,” she groaned, resisting the urge to press keys at random. It was probably just a hiccup. The upload would resume in a few seconds. But when it didn‟t she clicked the upload button again. Instead of refreshing the task, an error message popped up on her screen. It was an error message she knew well. “Fucking ODBC.” Trudging downstairs, she cursed under her breath the whole way. “And if I‟ve lost a whole morning worth of updates, I‟m going the fuck home,” she muttered to herself, pulling open the door to the IT dungeon. “Cristian, it‟s doing it again,” she announced—no greeting, no pleasantries. He stood, tucking papers into his file cabinet. For the first time, she saw his face unobstructed by a hood. His cheeks flamed crimson, turning a scar that ran from his left cheekbone down to his jaw a deep shade of magenta. How had she never seen it before? Was that why he always wore those ridiculous sweatshirts with the hood up?

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“Wh-wh-what are you doing down here?” Turning toward the wall, he pulled up the hood, pressing the marred cheek against his shoulder. Panicked by his reaction, she took a step back. “I‟m sorry—I should‟ve called.” “Yes, you should‟ve.” He folded his arms over his torso. “Cristian, I didn‟t mean…” She walked around his closed-off form, trying to get him to look at her. “Cristian. I‟m sorry.” “What do you need, Erik-Er-Erika?” “I didn‟t mean to upset you.” She touched his arm. “Your stutter gets worse when you‟re upset, doesn‟t it?” “Yeah. It d-d…d-does. And when I blush, my scars get a lovely shade of purple. Thanks for noticing.” Studying his chiseled features, she gently pushed back his hood. He tried to flinch away but she touched her fingertips to the long, red scar down the left side of his face. “Don‟t. It‟s ugly.” He set his jaw. She shook her head. “It‟s not.” Huffing a sigh, he rolled his eyes. “It‟s not,” she repeated, giving him a smile. “It makes you look kinda rugged, like that Scottish actor, Tommy Flanagan. He‟s very sexy.” He pulled back his collar, exposing raspberry-colored skin with a pebbled texture that ran the length of the left side of his neck. At first, his revelation surprised her. Her upbringing dictated that she look away— one should never stare at people who are different, but between the past several months at Masquerade and now her time with the Phantom, she‟d become desensitized to that which others would call “different.” Cris‟ scars, while shocking at first, upon closer inspection weren‟t such a big deal. They were part of him and surely they told a story about who he‟d been.

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“Scars like this cover the left side of my chest, part of my back. Still think it makes me look rugged?” he asked. “Yeah, I do.” She nodded. “Women love scars.” “No, they really don‟t. Not in my experience.” She placed her palm on his cheek. “You just haven‟t met the right women.” Clearing his throat, he scratched the back of his head. “Did you need something?” “What? Oh…my ODBC locked up again.” “Really?” He furrowed his brow. “It shouldn‟t have.” “Yeah, well, you know how it does.” Searching his gaze, she realized she was still touching him. She moved her hand and started biting her nails. “You shouldn‟t chew on yourself when you‟re nervous.” The phrase nagged at her, something familiar about it. Something about Cris‟ posture too. Rubbing her thumb and peering into his hazel eyes, she asked, “Would you like to go to lunch?” “What about your ODBC?” “It‟ll wait. I‟ve gotta eat.” “O-okay.” As if by instinct, he started to put up his hood. “I think you should leave it down.” She stayed his hand. “People will stare.” She shrugged. “Let them. It‟s their problem, not yours.” With a deep breath, he walked to the door and held it open for her.

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Chapter Nine They decided on hot dogs by the man-made lake near the store, settling on an unoccupied bench under a cherry tree. “See. No one‟s staring.” Erika nudged him. “I guess you‟re right.” He looked around at the other people on lunch break. Chewing a bite of hot dog, she studied his face, his expressions. “May I ask how you got the scars?” He swallowed hard. “I-I don‟t really talk about that.” “It‟s okay. You don‟t really have to. I was just being nosy.” “No. It‟s a logical question. I just don‟t know what to say.” He gave her a shy smile, a smile she recognized. “You know,” she said, “when I was growing up, I hated my red hair and freckles. My last name is Dante, but instead my classmates would call me Erika Dotty.” She laughed—it was easy to laugh about it now, with a little distance and life experience to soften the blow. “That‟s hardly the same.” He bristled. She shrugged. “Isn‟t it? It‟s only as serious as you make it.” “That‟s not true. Some things are serious by nature. Some things you can never make laughable.” His eyes glazed over as he clearly roved through his memories. Erika set down her half-eaten frank on a napkin and took his hand in hers. “All the more reason to share what happened with a friend.” His gaze met hers, a pleading expression on his face. “You‟re my friend?” Nodding, she tightened her grip on his hand. “I-I-I don‟t know where to start,” he stammered. 93

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“Start at the beginning,” she told him, which was what he did. He spoke softly at first, taking her ten years into his past when he was just nineteen years old. When he‟d attended a prestigious performing arts school and studied music composition. When he‟d met Desiree.

***** August 15, 2001 1:00 a.m.

Cristian watched Desiree dig into a piece of pecan pie. For such a slim woman, she could put down some dessert. Sipping at a cup of coffee, he dug his wallet out of his pocket to settle the bill. Bellies full and pie devoured, it was time to hit the road. “You sure you‟re okay to drive?” she asked, climbing into the passenger‟s side of the car. He ducked in the driver‟s side. “Yeah, I‟m fine. The nap and food did me good.” “I‟m glad you are, because I‟m wiped.” The car sputtered and threatened not to start but he knew it would. The classic Galaxie convertible had never failed him, it was just a little cranky once in a while. “Put the top down,” Desiree said. “It‟s gorgeous out tonight.” Pleasantly surprised by her request, because Desiree usually worried about getting her hair messed up, he was happy to accommodate her. Cristian dropped the top then pulled out of the diner parking lot. A few miles down the road, Desiree took off her seat belt and stretched her lovely body across the bench seat. Settling her head on his lap, she dozed while he made the trip through the back roads.

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Their earlier conversation played in his head. Three kids and a house in Connecticut. Would that be their future? Glancing down at her lithe form, he prayed she‟d stick with him that long. He let his mind wander, drifting over the best parts of the day. There were so many. The sun. The cool water. Her fragrant skin. His body inside hers. Warmth washed over him. Warmth and peaceful darkness. It stretched out in front of him, black and unending…until it did end. Crash! The crunch of crumpled metal. A car horn blaring. And pain. Blinding pain radiated from his face down his neck and his chest. He touched the side of his face, his hand came away covered in blood. With short, shallow breaths, he struggled for air. Diamonds all over the floorboard and his lap glittered in the moonlight. No, not diamonds. Bits of tempered glass. Trapped against the steering wheel, he tried to wriggle free. “Desiree?” he croaked. He reached for her, turning his head as much as he could. The seat next to him was empty.

***** “I must‟ve fallen asleep. I hit a tree.” Cristian took a faltering breath. “Desiree was thrown from the car.” Erika found herself still holding his hand. “Cris, I‟m so sorry. May I ask what happened to her?” “Broken neck. After nine months in a coma,” he swallowed hard, “Desiree‟s p-pparents had to let her go. After that I quit music school. Quit composing.”

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Her heart breaking, tears flooded Erika‟s eyes. “You‟re right. There‟s no making that laughable.” His gaze trained on the ground, he shook his head. “But,” she began, her voice a hoarse whisper, “you can forgive yourself.” “Easier said than done.” On a smaller scale, Erika knew how hard it was to change. To alter how she pictured herself in her mind‟s eye. She still hadn‟t fully integrated Lottie into her dayto-day life. She hadn‟t invited her family to her performances. It was easier to make the change in private, just in case she fell flat on her face or one day ran out of things to sing about. If she struggled with the parts of herself that made up Little Lottie, Cristian must‟ve been overwhelmed by guilt. “I had no idea you were dealing with so much,” she murmured. “How could you? We never talk about anything but your ODBC.” A wry smile twisted his lips. Again, it was a smile she recognized. Struggle or not, it was time to call his bluff. This time she knew she was right. No wonder he‟d been offended by her first guess as to his real identity. Choosing her words carefully, she laced her fingers with his. “I don‟t think that‟s true. I think we‟ve been friends for a while.” He shook his head. “What do you mean?” “I know I should‟ve seen it sooner and I‟m appalled that I thought Mr. Raleigh was you. I‟m really sorry about that.” He stood, freeing his hand from hers. “We should get back to the office.” “You‟re my phantom, aren‟t you?” “I don‟t know what you‟re talking about.” “Yes, you do.” “I‟m sorry, I don‟t.” He stalked away, flipping up his hood, hands shoved in his pockets.

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As she watched his retreat, she recognized his gait too. If Cristian wasn‟t the Phantom, she‟d eat her guitar. Her first impulse was to run after him, to force him to admit what she knew to be true, but on second thought she decided to give him some space. She was done chasing after shadows. He‟d tell her when he was ready. Or he wouldn‟t. Either way, the ball was in his court. The remainder of her lunch hour she spent walking around the lake, trying to get her thoughts in order, sorting through the revelation that she‟d spent the better part of a year ignoring what was right in front of her. When she returned to the office, her ODBC was in working order and Cristian had left for the day.

***** For the fourth time that Friday night, Erika‟s phone buzzed at her but she refused to check it. It was probably Meg. A notion that it wasn‟t Meg gnawed at the pit of her stomach, a flicker of hope she tried to tamp down, refusing to give in to it. Sighing, she dragged herself into the kitchen and uncorked a bottle of wine. Even that reminded her of the Phantom. It was the bottle he‟d given her. So what? She‟d drink it anyway. By the time her phone sounded again, she‟d gulped down the first glass. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered. There would be no peace tonight until she answered whoever was blowing up her cell. When she checked the message inbox, her stomach flip-flopped. It was her phantom. But no sense getting excited. Not now. It was too late. He‟d deserted her, hadn‟t given her a chance to apologize. He‟d get the same treatment from her. He deserved it. Giving the phone a second glance, she steeled her resolve. She didn‟t care what he had to say. That the situation had gone wonky was as much his fault as it was hers. She‟d made an honest mistake and she didn‟t deserve to be shunned for it. Another message joined the others in her inbox. The phone vibrated in her hand.

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“No,” she told it as if the phone were a naughty puppy. New video message—the LED winked at her. She set down the infernal electronic device and poured another glass of wine. If he thought she‟d be so easily swayed, he had another think coming. It was probably just another dirty video like the one he‟d cut together and played for her the other night. Of course it could be him confessing his love, perhaps without the mask, and then she‟d know once and for all… “No,” she repeated, shaking her head. At this point she didn‟t care about his true identity. Cristian had wasted the perfect opportunity to reveal himself to her, assuming Cristian was the Phantom. She‟d felt so certain at lunch on Thursday, but then again she‟d been certain Mr. Raleigh was the Phantom. Clearly she‟d lost her mind and she was just projecting the Phantom‟s personality traits onto every man she was remotely attracted to. Was she attracted to Cristian? Well, yeah, she was. It wasn‟t a thought she‟d ever entertained, but there it was. Even before she‟d known about his scars and how he‟d gotten them, she‟d felt as though they were kindred spirits. What if Cristian was the Phantom and he‟d been trying to get ahold of her all night? But why not call her, talk to her? “Fuck it.” She drained her glass and snatched up her phone. Before she could stop herself, she hit play on the video message. As she watched a shadowy masked figure strum guitar, at first her heart sank. More games of hide and seek. But then she keyed into the melody and the words he sung. He‟d finished the composition they‟d been struggling with for the past month. And the words he‟d written—tears flooded her eyes. The lyrics spoke of the most beautiful woman in the world who didn‟t know how beautiful and loved she was. The queen of his night. The waking dawn to his nightmare.

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“I titled it Erika,” he murmured at the end of the video. “Can you forgive me? I-I love you.” She smiled at the slight hitch in his words. She‟d never heard the Phantom stutter before. The gentle knock at her door didn‟t surprise her, nor was she surprised by the masked man whose silhouette filled her doorway. In spite of herself, she asked coolly, “What are you doing here?” “May I come in?” he asked in his usual raspy whisper, but she cued into the speech pattern that had always seemed so familiar. Stepping aside, she motioned for him to enter. He wore his typical black turtleneck and trousers, the white mask over his features. “Erika, I‟m sorry.” He took her in his arms, the warmth of his embrace at once arousing and disarming. Her lips tingling, longing for his kiss, she whispered, “I saw the video. The song is beautiful.” “I made a mess of this.” He shook his head. “You deserve more. You deserve all of me, if you‟ll still have me.” Taking her hand in his, he moved it to the mask. “I‟m yours.” Her fingers alighted on the smooth surface, knowing she needed only to pry it off and then she‟d have all the answers she wanted, that she so desperately craved. But Erika hesitated. The Phantom had mastered her body for a month now and part of her soul for even longer. Once she stripped away his mask everything would change, for better or worse she couldn‟t say, but surely their relationship would change. “What‟s wrong?” he asked. Pressing closer, she rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I don‟t know. I‟ve dreamed about this moment, but now…”

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He took her hand and moved it down his neck, over the thin layer of fabric covering his hard chest, down to the bulge in his pants. Her face cradled in his hands, he brushed his lips over hers, his tongue licking at hers as she parted her lips. She melted against him, the kiss surrounding her with his rich scent. “Once more, before the fantasy is over?” he asked. She nodded, her pussy already burning for him. Sinking to her knees, she slid her hands down his body but he caught her and helped her up. “No like that. Not this time.” He shook his head. She furrowed her brow but let him lead her to the bed. “What do you want me to do?” “Lie back.” Doing as she was told, she watched him unbutton his shirt and unfasten his trousers. Her heart pounded and she propped herself up on her elbow. “Turn on your side,” he told her. Disappointment coursed through her. “But—” “Erika, I still make the rules…for now.” The force of his words didn‟t match his gentle tone. Sighing, she rolled over, gaze fixed on her framed Phantom of the Opera print. She felt him slip next to her, his skin warming hers. He unzipped the back of her dress, the heat of his breath skimming her breasts, and pushed the skirt over her hips. A hand caressed her buttocks and thighs. His fingers wandered over her neck and shoulders, giving her goose bumps. She reached behind her to explore his bare body but he pushed her hands away. “Not yet.” He nibbled at her shoulder, his cock nestled between her ass cheeks, fingertips pinching her nipples. Erika groaned and clasped her hands together, giving herself over to the game— one last time.

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He swept her hair off her neck and planted more gentle kisses there. A shiver ran through her. Continuing his path down her body, he licked down to the cleft of her buttocks, eliciting a gasp. She shifted her position, pressing her belly against the bed. The smooth fabric of the cotton sheet brushed against her nipples. He straddled her legs and rubbed his warm palms up the sides of her body, leaning in to place a kiss in the small of her back. Hands braced against the mattress, she arched her back, pushing her ass against him. He slipped a finger between her folds and pushed into her. His middle finger flicked at her G-spot, sending tremors of pleasure through her. Rules be damned, she pushed herself on to all fours. “I want you inside me now.” She wiggled her hips. No more invitation needed, he withdrew his finger and sheathed himself with a condom. She pressed against his cock, sliding him all the way into her. His body shuddered against hers. Feeling catlike and sexy, she straightened her elbows and dipped her head, her backside flush against his pelvis. He wrapped an arm around her waist, one hand tangled in her hair, slipping his shaft in and out of her from tip to base and back up again. Her pussy responded to the slow stroke, growing wetter with each thrust. Usually she‟d want him to hammer into her, but instead she let the ecstasy ripple through her, groaning softly. The musk of sex filled her nostrils and she breathed it into her lungs. It was as though he‟d invaded every pore of her body. He ground against her ass, pulling her hair enough to inflict a little pain, but not too much. She raked her teeth over her bottom lip, her heart pounding. Heat coursed through her veins, she felt as if her skin were burning. The more he tugged at her hair, the more her arousal increased. She writhed against the bed, lost on a sea of ecstasy. His cock buried deep within her, he used his grip on her hair to force her upright. In this new position, she supported herself with both hands, now able to ride his cock the way she wanted to. She thrust up and down, increasing the pace until her ass

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slapped loudly against his lap. One hand between her thighs, the other still with a firm grasp on her hair, he stroked her clit as he pulled her head back to kiss her. His mouth crushed against hers and he shoved his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, tasting him, the sweetness of his breath, the saltiness of the perspiration on his lip. Her labia dripping with her own juices, muscles inside her tightening around his cock, she broke away from the kiss, her heart pounding, gasping for air. “Come for me,” he growled in her ear. Body quaking, she panted, each breath taking her closer to the edge. He teased her clit, swiping the sensitive bud between swollen folds of skin. A cry escaped her as an orgasm gripped her. She quivered against him, each wave of pleasure taking her higher. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Finally, with a sigh, she let the tension leave her body and relaxed against him. He pushed her forward, her cheek against the pillow, and shoved his cock into her up to the base. With a sharp intake of breath, he twitched and breathed her name as he came. Releasing her hair, he smoothed her locks over her shoulder and back. A few kisses to her hips and he pulled out, then climbed off the bed to dispose of the condom. Erika sat up, watching him return to her. He sat before her on the edge of the bed and took her hand, placing it to his covered cheek. Fingers trembling, she ran them over the mask. His hazel eyes blinked at her as if he were staring into the sun. A knot twisted in her stomach. No matter how much she urged herself to press forward, she couldn‟t. She couldn‟t take this from him—he had to give it to her. Willingly. “You do it,” she said, her throat constricting. “I can‟t.” “Please.” Dropping her gaze, she gently took her hand away. She studied the anonymous features of the mask, his slicked-back hair and the dark shirt that still hung from his

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broad shoulders. Then she noticed the purplish scar on the left side of his neck that continued down his collarbone.

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Chapter Ten Reaching for the shirt, Erika slid it down his arms and exposed the extent of the ridged blemishes. Now that his identity was no longer a mystery, he pulled at the edges of the mask, prying loose the adhesive. His gaze remained downcast, but as soon as he peeled back the disguise, she sighed at the sight of the scar running down the left side of his face. “Cristian—why? Why didn‟t you tell me?” Her heart beat so fast she was afraid it might pound out of her chest. He rubbed at the bits of spirit gum clinging to his hairline. “How c-could I, Erika?” Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath then opened them. “You‟re so pretty and sweet. And as Little Lottie you‟re gorgeous. Why would you go for a monster like me?” “You aren‟t a monster. Don‟t say that.” “My world has been in darkness since…since Desiree.” “That was an accident.” “It was still my fault.” His voice sounded thick, muffled, as if he were speaking through a winter scarf. “You didn‟t mean to fall asleep. You thought you‟d done everything right.” “She trusted me.” He chuffed a sigh, clenching his hands into fists. Erika‟s reply caught in her chest. What could she say to make him feel any better? Really, there was nothing. Nuzzling closer, she brushed at a tear that leaked down his face. “I trust you.” “Why? I‟ve made a mess of everything.”

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“You haven‟t. This,” she held up the discarded mask, “this was my ultimate fantasy and you gave that to me. For a little while I got to be the ingénue, Christine Daae. Beautiful, talented, passionately loved by a tragic hero.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It‟s the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.” “I don‟t feel amazing. I feel like a freak.” Easing his fist open, she threaded her fingers with his. “We can be freaks together. I‟ve never been at ease in my own skin either.” He gave a halfhearted chuckle, swiping at the tears that wet his lashes. “Maybe we can.” Cristian turned to face her, tracing her lips with a finger, laying her back onto the mattress. Absentmindedly, she ran her fingernails over his back. “How do you know so much about me?” she asked. He smiled and shook his head. “You spend far too much time online at work, young lady.” “I do not,” she insisted, but even as the words left her lips, she couldn‟t maintain a straight face. Laughing, she confessed, “Okay, I do.” He told her about the monthly audits of employee internet usage and the reports he submitted to each department head. “Most people pay a bill or two, check social accounts a couple times a day, maybe tweet a few times, but you,” he shook his head, “you live online.” She cast her gaze toward the ceiling, clenching and unclenching her hands. “It‟s the only thing that gets me through the days there.” “I know. I saw that. It‟s your escape—the books you download, the clothes you look at but never buy for yourself, the flowers you sent to yourself last Valentine‟s Day.” Her cheeks grew hot. “Oh god, you know about that?”

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“Don‟t be embarrassed. And I think you got yourself a very nice arrangement— pink calla lilies, much nicer than the usual dozen roses.” Erika sighed. “I just…I just got tired of all the bouquets flowing through the office. All the women at work get them—every Valentine‟s Day, birthday, anniversary. I just wanted to know what that felt like.” “Believe me, I get that. Better than most people.” His hand strayed to the scar on his cheek. “Cris…if the scars bother you so much, why don‟t you do something about them?” He remained quiet, his quickening breath rushing past her ear. “I‟ve thought about it, but I used to think I didn‟t deserve to get them fixed, you know? Desiree paid a much higher price so I forced myself to live with the scars.” Rolling on her side to face him, she touched his face. “You have to forgive yourself. I don‟t think she‟d want you to punish yourself like this.” “Could be you‟re right. In fact, that‟s where I was a couple weeks ago. I had a consult with a plastics guy in Baltimore. It‟ll take some time, but he‟s sure he can make the scars a lot less noticeable.” “Is that why the Phantom was out of town?” She shook her head, grinning. “Yeah. In retrospect, I realized that was one of the reasons you thought it was Raleigh. Bad timing on my part.” “I‟m so sorry about that.” She covered her face with her hands. “No.” He gently pried her hands apart. “Don‟t be. It wasn‟t your fault. I should‟ve trusted you to be the kind, open person I know you to be. It‟s my game-playing that created the situation, not you.” “Still. I‟m so embarrassed.” She met his gaze then dropped it, studying the sheet. Her thumb strayed to her mouth and she chewed at it. “When I said I had a crush on him—”

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“Shh.” Cristian took her hand away from her mouth and held it. “Please, don‟t worry about that. You‟d be dead from the waist down if you didn‟t have a crush on him. I get that. It makes me want to cut his heart out with a spoon, but I get it.” Furrowing her brow, she took a long look at his features. His high cheekbones, almond-shaped hazel eyes, pouty mouth. He really had no idea how handsome he was. “Cris, you‟re just as good-looking as he is.” “Maybe I was once—” “No. You are.” She let one finger skim down the length of the scar on his cheek. “This doesn‟t detract from your looks. It just tells a story about what you‟ve been through… And who you are as a result. You shouldn‟t hide. I won‟t let you, not anymore.” “That you believe what you‟re saying.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “It‟s one of the reasons I love you.” “I love you too.” He leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. Without the mask in the way, his cheek felt strangely soft against hers. She breathed in his scent, lacing her fingers in his hair. Laying her back onto the bed, he covered her body with his, his mouth on hers, and settled his hips between her legs. No more games, no more rules, she reached for his belt buckle and the closure on his pants. He shed his trousers and underwear without breaking away from the kiss. The weight of his frame, the heat of his skin—Erika felt enveloped by him. As the kiss tapered off, he stroked her thighs, her torso, and helped her remove her bra. She opened her eyes and watched him. He seemed to marvel at her as if it were the first time they‟d ever touched each other. Perhaps, in a strange way, it was. She let her hands glide over the expanse of his back and the breadth of his shoulders. He winced a little when her fingertips explored his scars.

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Eager to reassure him, she leaned forward, kissing the discolored skin of his neck. He shivered, nuzzling her cheek. She let her hands meander down his nude form, exploring every ripple of muscle, every inch of his skin—smooth or scarred—she loved every inch of him. Her hands alighted on his buttocks and she wiggled her hips, pressing her opening against his cock. A quick reach for another condom and he sheathed himself. “I love you, Erika.” He brushed a curl from her face and stared into her eyes. “I love you too, Cris.” Pushing forward, he entered her then remained motionless for a few seconds. She met his searching gaze, though she knew not just what he was searching for. Perhaps, like she, he was enjoying the moment—the two of them joined together. No more secrets, no kink to hide behind. Just them, naked and honest and vulnerable. His head came to rest in the crook of her neck and he started to move inside her. The rhythm Cristian set was very different to that of the Phantom. Not urgent and thrusting or agonizingly slow and teasing, there was something sweet, almost innocent about the way he penetrated her. He kissed her, a sigh on his trembling lips, and she realized this was a side of himself he‟d shared with few people. She closed her eyes and rode the wave of pleasure building inside her. A slow burn replaced the hungry animal need to come that she‟d grown accustomed to. Soft moans took the place of hoarse cries, but the same tension drew her abdomen tight. Her breath quickened and she felt the ecstasy growing between them. His muscles tensed, he drew in air between clenched teeth. But still, the climax didn‟t break loose. Wrapping a leg around him, she pulled him deeper. His fingers twined with hers, he pushed her arms over her head, taking a nipple into his mouth. She opened her eyes and watched him suckle at her breast, his teeth grazing the tight bud, heightening her pleasure. He rocked his pelvis against her clit, picking up the pace. Her juices wet the insides of her thighs, the sound of their bodies moving against each other whispering in the

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silence. Finally, a powerful orgasm gripped her. She shook, tears in her eyes, clutching his hands. He pushed into her and then held himself there, his cock pulsing in time with her own contractions. Slowly, the outside world returned to her—first the scent of his skin, then the sight of his face smiling down at her and then the sound of his breath against her ear. “Too vanilla?” he asked. “No.” She sighed. “It was perfect.” He withdrew and threw away the condom before snuggling up with her. Stroking his sweaty hair, she studied his silhouette in the dim streetlight that filtered through the curtain. How could he ever believe he was a monster? An ugly man? His back rose and fell with each breath, the ropes of muscles evident just beneath the surface. And what if he‟d never found a way to talk to her? Had never taken the chance to reach out to her, even online? A funny thought occurred to her and she said, “Thank god my ODBC settings are always going crazy or we would never have met.” His face bright red, he licked his lips. “About that—I might‟ve had something to do with those settings going crazy. I‟d go in remotely and change them so you‟d have to come visit me.” She clapped a hand over her mouth and snickered. “Oh my god, that‟s the sweetest—and nuttiest—thing I‟ve ever heard.” “I just had to find a reason to see you. To talk to you. The more I knew about you the more I wanted to know.” A finger to his lips, she nodded. “Seems to me we‟ve got some catching up to do. I don‟t know nearly as much about you as you do about me.” “Hopefully we have a long time to even the playing field.” With a nod, she leaned in to give him a kiss. In the stillness of the night, she could feel the pull of sleep tugging at her. She yawned, snuggling closer to him. “Read to me.”

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As he reached for her e-reader, he said, “Phantom of the Opera?” “No.” She shook her head. “I think it‟s time for a different fairytale.” A grin parted his thick lips. “I think you‟re right.” Her head on his chest, her eyelids drooped, the warmth and scent of his bare skin enveloping her like a cocoon. In her mind she said a silent goodbye to her phantom. She might miss him, but what she‟d gained in his place was better than any phantom touch could be.

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About the Author Prior to becoming a multi-published writer of romantic and erotic fiction, Cindy went to college at the University of Hawaii at Manoa and graduated with a BFA in Art. After a brief attempt at an art career, she decided the “starving artist” life wasn‟t for her. She worked for ten years in the corporate arena, but now spends her days as a full-time author. When not chained to her laptop, she enjoys hanging with her family, belly dancing and exploring the culinary arts.

Cindy welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Tell Us What You Think We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at [email protected].

Also by Cindy Jacks Ahoy!: Landlocked Leap Love Game Waking Maggie

Print books by Cindy Jacks Pirate‟s Passion anthology

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