The Phantom

by Kim (KP) Pritekel

Disclaimers: This story is an uber, so these beauties belong to me.

Subtext: I guess you could kind of call this little ditty a PWP. So, yeah, there is definitely some same sex stuff going on here. If you're not old enough to buy me a beer, or are don't believe in love in all its forms, go away.

Note: I just dug this out, and blew the dust off of it. It's kinda old, so be nice. This certainly isn't one of my finest. But it's a nice little story.

Note #2: It would help greatly if you knew the story of The Phantom of the Opera. This story briefly refers to it.

If you'd like to tell me what a wonderful writer I am, or that I royally suck, feel free at:

I entered the large ballroom, my heart pounding. I had been given an invitation by my friend, Stacy. It had been her invite, but she was sick and did not feel like going. Not wanting it to go to waste, I had been volunteered to go in her stead.

"It'll be good for you, Erika. It's been too long. You need to get out." she said followed by a sniffle. "Don't forget it's a masquerade. Hand me a tissue, will you?"

Absently I nodded and handed her a Kleenex. A masquerade? What on earth would I do at a masquerade?

I had left Stacy's house in despair as I tried to figure out what the hell I was going to wear to the annual GLBA masquerade. Finally I drove to the local costume shop. After looking at dozens of cat costumes, cow costumes, huge dresses puffed out with hoops, I saw it!

As I got closer I began to drool. As an avid lover of dance and theater the black tail coat caught my eye first. Next I spotted the white vest and tie, and finally the mask, white and beautiful.

The sales lady wrapped it up for me and gave me stern directions on how to tie my tie, and how to not get anything on the suit or a hefty price tag would ensue. Giving me one last strange look she smiled.

"Have a nice day."

I got out of the shower and walked over to the mirror to look at myself and figure out how I was going to do this. I put on my underwear then looked at my hair which was nearly black, and cut short. Remembering the hair gel I had bought an ion ago, I dug around in the bathroom cabinet praying that the stuff would still be good. I squeezed some of the squishy goop onto my palm and rubbed it in. My hair satisfactorily slicked back I looked to my tux. After another forty-five minutes trying to tie my tie I looked once more into the mirror. Wow! I looked wonderful! I reached for the mask, put it in place and looked again. The reflection was no longer me. Now who looked back at me was the Phantom of the Opera.

I had arrived late so the room was bustling with people Most were in two's or three's, but some one's walked about. Costumes of every liking walked the hall. To my left Cleopatra and what looked to be a servant girl strolled hand in hand toward the dance floor.

"Care for a drink?" I looked to see a man standing before me in a black body suit and mask holding a tray of champagne. I took a goblet and smiled as he moved on.

"Great costume!" a voice said from behind me. I turned to see Ezmeralda sizing me up. "Phantom, right?"

"Yes." I said in my most alluring, mysterious voice. Must play the role. I held out my hand and she placed hers in it. I demurely kissed her knuckles. "Enchanted."

"There you are, Ez." A woman exclaimed coming up to us. I looked to meet the harsh eyes of Zorro.

"Good evening." I said with a bow.

"Hi. Let's go." The beautiful enchantress was gone. Strike one. I walked around nursing my glass of bubbly determined that once I finished it I would go. I hated parties, and social gatherings, never feeling like I ever truly fit in. They were so- then I saw her.

Across the room she stood in a small group of two men and a woman. She was radiant. Even with her company she stood out above everyone in the room. She had skin like fine porcelain, her long, reddish-blonde hair cascaded in waves down her back. Her dress of white was cut off at the shoulders, exposing the inviting flesh of graceful shoulders and a swan-like neck. The dress reached the floor, covering her feet. A white and silver mask covered the top half of her face. Her beautifully shaped lips were rosy and slightly parted as if she were getting ready to say something. Sensing she was being watched, she looked in my direction. Her gaze held, her lips in that same expression of speech. I couldn't breath.

"Care for some more champagne?" I turned to the server who had dared to disturb my thoughts.

"No." I put my barely touched glass upon his tray, and turned back to her. She was gone! No! I looked around frantically for just a glimpse of white. She could not have gone far in just a few seconds. Then I spotted a wisp of white. My gut telling me to follow, I did. There she was by the doors that led to the balcony. Someone dressed like a Mariachi singer stopped her. Smile, quick hug, peck on the cheek. Then they were talking.

"Damn." I said under my breath, smiling at a fellow masquerader as they passed. I stood where I was, partly concealed by the throng of people. "Leave, leave, leave." I willed the intruder. As if in response to my pleas the Mariachi gave her one more peck, and was gone. She proceeded to the door, disappearing into the dark night. I followed. When I reached the door I saw her looking out into the night, one hand on the railing of the small balcony, the other poised over her soft white cleavage that gently swelled over the top of her gown. I was rooted. The soft curves of her body, even from behind were amazingly beautiful.

I cleared my throat as quietly as I could, not wanting to get her attention just yet. What do I say? What would the Phantom say?

"Following me?" I was ripped from my thoughts by her soft voice. Her back was still to me.

"Yes. How are you tonight, my dear?" I could not help but completely immerse myself into this role. It had always been a fantasy of mine to be the Phantom of the Opera, seducing the beautiful Christine, or be seduced.

"I told you to leave me. You know it could never be." She said quietly, with the slightest hint of desperation in her voice. Confused, I said nothing for a moment. Then I realized that she was also playing along.

"Christine, I could never leave you. You haunt my dreams, every word you speak is like a finger run upon my soul." I stepped up behind her. A chill of what I assumed was excitement gave her a shiver. I gently clasped her waist, grazing her back with my front. "You can't run from me." I whispered in her ear. She leaned back into me.

"No?" she breathed

"No." I wrapped my arms around her from behind and kissed her ear. She sucked in her breath. "No." I repeated. She turned in my arms to face me. Though half her face was concealed, she still took my breath away. I looked into her eyes which were the deepest of greens, in the night they looked charcoal gray. She searched my own blue eyes until she found what must have pleased her. She smiled then, pressed against me. Her lips were soft and hungry, her restless hands in my hair and reaching under my coat.

Not wanting the fantasy to fade I gently pushed her from me. She looked startled, then understanding filled her face. I walked away from her back into the crowded ballroom confidant that she would follow. I did not look over my shoulder to see, but headed for the grand marble staircase that led to the second level of the building.

As I reached the top I could hear the resounding click of her heels as she persued me. I opened the first door I came to and closed it behind me. I flipped on the light to see an unused music room. In the far corner a white baby grand stood waiting to be played.

Several red velvet sitting couches were arranged for people in their listening pleasure. This was too perfect. I kept waiting for someone to come out and say I was on Candid Camera. I sat at the piano, sweeping my tails out behind me. I had had piano lessons since I was five years old. I knew my way around the ivories.

I heard the door creak open as I began to play Moonlight Sonata. I could hear her footfalls on the polished marble floor, and I could feel her as she came nearer and nearer. She rested her hands on my shoulders.

"You play wonderfully." She whispered. She wrapped her arms over my shoulders, her breasts pressed against my upper shoulders and neck. "Will you play something for me?"

"Anything." I said, not missing a note.

"Play Music of the Night."

"Are you going to sing for me?"

"No. Tonight I give you a different sort of gift." She leaned down to whisper in my ear. "I give myself to you. Play."

I began to play the Lloyd Webber classic. She trailed her lips down the unmasked side of my face, her nails gently following their trail. Shivers raced up and down my spine. She moved around the side of me, positioning herself on my lap facing me. I reached around her and continued to stroke the keys. She was so tender as she kissed me on the lips, her mouth teasing. She reached for my mask, I caught her hand and brought it to my mouth. I slowly sucked on first one finger, then the next and the next until not one finger had been forgotten. She closed her eyes and moaned. Her hands were under my coat again gently cupping my breasts. She found my mouth again, this kiss aggressive and wanting.

I gave up on trying to play anymore, and pulled her close. She was on her knees on the piano bench, one leg on either side of me. I ran my hands up her thighs. I broke the kiss and turned my attention to her breasts. I brought my hands out from under her dress and unfastened the garment. She pulled her arms out of their restraints and let the dress fall into her lap like a white cloud. I unhooked the strapless bra she wore and relished in the delight of her beautiful, full breasts which filled my hands perfectly. I took one hard nipple into my mouth. She groaned and arched her back and neck. My mouth still on her breasts I let my hands wonder back to her thighs. Slowly I massaged them until I reached the tops. Heat radiated from her, already wet. I was surprised to find she was not wearing any underwear, but better for my purposes. I stroked her and teased her, almost entering her then pulling my probing fingers away.

"Oh," she breathed, "please."

"What do you want, my angel?" I asked finding her mouth again.

"I want" she gasped.

Deciding to end the torture I entered first one, then two fingers slowly slid them out, then inserted three. With my other arm I had to hold her on my lap, she was leaning so far back I was afraid she would fall into the piano. Her hips began to buck against me urging me to quicken my pace to keep up with hers. She grabbed handfuls of my jacket as she went rigid and sucked in lungfulls of air. With a shudder she became one of the living again and clung to me.

Tenderly we kissed. I couldn't get over how gentle she was.

"May I?" she asked indicating my mask, the fantasy fulfilled, so reality was setting in.

"Sure." She gently removed the heavy plastic mask and looked into my face. She ran her hand almost motherly down my cheek.

"You're so beautiful. What is your name?"

"Erika Fullman." I looked at her mask with a raised brow. She nodded. I lifted the mask and was left breathless anew. Her sea green eyes seemed so innocent under the finely arched brows. Her golden hair framed her face making her look like an angel.

"You look just like an angel." I said unbelieving. She smiled.

"Perhaps I am. Perhaps I'm your angel."

I smiled. "Perhaps. What is your name?"

"Christine Mitchell."

"Shall we make some more music?"


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