The Opera

The air was cold and wet that night. Little drops of moisture were collecting, and running down the brick walls of the buildings as I passed. The fog danced around the street lanterns and made the noises of the crowed street, ring out. The rolling coach wheels, behind the clinking of iron horse shoes, echoed up and down the cobble stone street alarmingly. I could hear the band playing in the tavern far ahead, clearly. The banjo, accordion, and fiddle players yielded an off tune, as they played a loud rousing chorus lead by inebriated patrons. Over all this noise however I was still afraid I would be heard, the sound of my footsteps. I tried still to make them slow and quiet, as I pursued her along the sidewalk.

In and among the everyday people of London, it reeked of manure, ale and sweaty brows, but I dared not get in a carriage and run the risk of loosing her; and I wanted to go undetected. I didn't think she had seen me since I had taken after her, as she had come out, on foot, from the hotel. A lady by herself in such a part of the city was an invitation to danger, or perhaps, a warning.

The streets of stone sweated under my feet as I passed. A storm was coming, I could feel it through my thick black overcoat and I wrapped the gray scarf tighter around my neck. Slowly I adjusted my hat and the leather of my gloves rubbed together and squeaked in response. Up ahead she slowed her pace, and so did I. Quickly I stepped under the awning of Brothel, it was dark, the woman was well past the street lantern and the crowd buzzed about her, but I knew she'd stopped. My breath became shallow and it's heat floated up in the form of a mist. I couldn't help feeling guilty; I had not yet done such a thing as this. I covered my mouth and stood totally still, with a silent dread welling up inside of me. I waited for a good while and slowly peaked out onto the street. Was I going to do this?

The woman had gone on ahead, and was stopped, about to cross the street. She tucked her hood tighter around her head, and gathered up her soft black skirts with a gentle movement, before she stepped down off the curb. It was almost like hearing music, watching her graceful gestures. Her steps were a quiet symphony as she floated across the street, a lively music, wild and windy like Vivaldi. I followed her and watched her sweep along the opposite side of the street, cloak fluttering behind. She was herself a frantic instrument, not like a flute or a violin, more like a cello or a bassoon, with notes deep and soft.

My wife has no music in her. She often sat next to me in the concert hall playing the part of the proper, modest, respected wife of an English Physician. She did listen and often times I would look for signs of an emotional reaction, something stirring in her heart, but it never came.

"What in God's name are you doing?" I hissed at myself, even though I knew perfectly well. I followed her across the street, dogging a carriage. As it passed I saw that the woman in the black cloak was gone. Feeling nervous all of a sudden I looked up and down the line of shops, until a blacksmith on horse back shouted at me to get out of the street. I tipped my hat at the large, burly man and went quickly to the other side. I rounded the corner, still no sight of her. An old woman with a basket came towards me, crooning at me in a thick cockney accent.

"Hallo Gov-na. What an' ansom gent we got' ere ladies. Cam on love – won't yer bye a flawer for Granny, go some right pre-y posies..."

"No, thank you madam," I winced at the volume of her shill voice, like an old instrument badly out of tune. "Not today," I whispered and went to go around her. She stepped in front of me and we did a little dance right there on the sidewalk.

"Ohhhhh." Her companions came closer. "We got a right gen-tle-man ere. And what's a gent-le-man like you to do wiv out a beautyful flawer for is lady friend?"

"What lady friend, don't be impertinent..."

"Well yur not dressed up fa me!"

"Oh all right" I plucked the least shabby of the red roses, feeling suddenly shaken.

"Oh fan-cy! Three P govna." I pushed it at her and hurried on. "Ah, thank-ye sir, cum a-gain."

I continued on trying to drown out their laughter and it faded as the wind picked up, and then vanished all together, as if they had gone into the Pub; it was no use, she was gone.

"Damn it," I swore and turned around to go back, immediately I jumped as I caught a still, dark blur out of the corner of my eye. The woman was one the stairs above sidewalk, not 3 feet away. "Oh, excuse me madam! I did not realize..." I could not continue but remained staring at her, even now she did not look the least bit concerned about my attention. This troubled me for some reason. Totally unnerved I just stood there, looking at her. I felt as if was gasping for air.

The woman stood still - possessively unalarmed at my frightfulness. I must not have heard her as she went up the stairs, and stood in the doorway of the Opera House watching me. There was an intense silence about her now. A noiseless wind circled round her body, even though the breeze had quite died. She seemed to sway without moving, without making a sound, like an apparition. It seemed be emanating from her.

Her complexion was pale against the dark cloak and her eyes were positively black, with bright gray rims that looked golden in the lamplight and I felt that if I were to look into them any longer they would swallow me. Her eyes flickered and it was as if her gaze had imprisoned me; I was helpless to do anything but continue to stare at her in the street. Her full pink lips moved slightly taking slow, calculated breaths shoulders bare under the cloak and the fullness of her bosom overflowing the restriction of the black bodice.

I was spell bound in my rapture and I was sure that I had never seen someone more simply, but exquisitely beautiful in all my life; the more I looked at her, the more so she became. Shaking myself I realized that my behavior would soon be construed as improper, if it had not already become come so, and I cleared my throat to speak. Words flew from her lips like foreign birds, seeming to take flight even before her lips had opened. Her voice rapped itself around me, like the wind itself, like the gray sea, tossing me about mercilessly.

"You ave been vating for me, in de shadows."

"Why, whatever do you..."

"I vas vatching you."

Not knowing whether to feel like the mouse or the cat I offered her the rose. Her eyes dropped to it and I watched the thick fringe of her black lashes come down. Slowly she produced her hand from beneath her cloak like she was casting a spell and reached for the flower as if it did not exist until she touched it. Her long black satin gloves went up almost the full length of her arm, shining in the streetlight. Her finger brushed mine slightly in the passing. As my hand felt hers, it was as if my breath was constricted for a moment in my throat and instead my whole body breathed in and out, one solitary plus. My body had become alive with sensation, more than I can ever remember, and I wondered deeply at this new existence of ecstasy.

The woman took the rose like she was going to smell it but then touched it too the tip of her nose and closed her eyes. She then proceeded to guide its velvet petals down over her parted lips, over her chin, down her neck and in between her breasts to her bodice. Then she lifted the flower again and brushed it across the top of her bosom, like a sensual, sacrilegious signing of the cross. I stared in shock, not knowing what to say or do, whether I should be enraged or intoxicated.

"Are you ready" she opened her eyes and I jumped again.

"I beg your pardon."

"To go inside?"

"What?"

"To see zee O-pera," one corner of her mouth lifted in an amused seriousness.

"Oh, right, I'd almost forgotten." Suddenly I couldn't think clearly and just stood still looking at this magnificent creature in awe, what power she had over me. With almost a sly turn she made her way towards the entrance. Shaking myself as her eyes left me, I was self-possessed again and went up the stairs, passed her and opened the door. Without glancing at me she entered and took down her hood. Her hair was up and set in meticulous curls, which fell down the back of her neck, kissing it like midnight over a smooth pond filled of stars.

Looking up from my intoxication with this strange woman, I suddenly realized the danger I had put myself in and looked at the crowd of people in the lobby. Who might recognize me? And if they did how would I be able to explain my presence here, with her?

"No one vill see you" she looked back at me, I stood frozen.

The woman turned to me fully and locked eyes with me. My body could not move as she gazed at me, and I understood. "But, if dis makes you feel better..." she produced a mask with white and gray feathers from the deep pocket of her cloak, " then by all means wear it."

I moved towards her but without knowing that I was doing, until it was happening. She got close to me and holding on to the white ribbons sewn onto the sides of the mask, she reached around the back of my head to fasten it. My vision was obstructed for a moment, until she adjusted the eyeholes, and then the world changed. Not abruptly but soon the theatre, the people, the world was getting more slow, the music was softer. And then I noticed; my arms were open and she was in them. I could feel the heat of her body near mine, the sent of dark longings blowing through her hair, it was binding me to her in a way I had never experienced before. When she stepped away I felt I was a new man –somehow.

She turned away from me bringing her hands over her head. The woman kept moving in her turn until she faced me again and brought a mask down over her own face, black satin like her dress, but lined with silver leaves.

"Shall vee find our box?"

"Of course" I moved of my own will and offered her my arm. I produced two tickets from my jacket pocket when the usher asked for them.

"Thank you sir, right this way" he said, not thank you doctor, I mused, just sir. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye seductively and I lead her up the stairs after the usher. We followed him down a red-carpeted hallway hung with portraits and decorated with ivory busts on pillars. As we passed I could feel them trembling, watching us almost in horror. I wondered for the first time if I should run back, tear off the mask in a fit and go home to my wife at once, who would be in the study nursing a glass of Gin, crying. The woman steered me to the door her arm wrapped around mine. Subtly she reached into the palm of my hand; with one movement of her satiny finger she stroked the inside of it. I straightened up like a shock had passed through my hand, a pleasant electric jolt and before my senses returned to me I was in the room, but I could not remember how I had gotten there.

Below us, and straight ahead, was a dark stage (lit only with a large white moon and several stars peaking through the night sky above a castle). People below were filling the seats. The other boxes all around us, up the height of the theatre walls, were swaying colours of ladies even gowns and men in black suits. The seats on the main floor of the theatre were covered with in rich red velvet and the wood was dark brown, but looked gold in the intense lamplight. Instruments playing different scales could be heard as the musicians were tuning up for the night's performance. They made my head swirl even more, and suddenly I doubted if I knew what was going to happen.

In our box, like in the others, was a long, wide velvet couch decorated with gold trimmed pillows. On the table in front of it there were two pairs of binoculars, two crystal glasses and a bottle of champagne in a wine bucket, filled with ice. The woman stopped before the couch and looked back over her shoulder at me.

"Vould you?" I couldn't resist. Reaching around her shoulders I untied the cloak from her neck and touched the bare softness of her shoulders, as I drew it back over them, slowly, and then handed it to the usher. She took a seat on the couch. I went to the other side, took off my outer ware, and handed it to the usher as well, who hung up our belongings at the back on the box. He then laid my top hat, scarf and gloves on the table beside the door. I sat down myself and stared at her through the candlelight. The usher poured a glass of champagne for the Lady and then one for myself.

"Enjoy the performance," the usher said, bowing and excusing himself. He closed the door behind him and it was over, I was caught in the snare.

The room was still trembling and I could feel the eyes of the other patrons, but they were not taking any kind of special notice of us, wrapped up in their own performances. I looked out over them fascinated; I could almost hear their own thoughts of guilt.

"I should not have left my babes..."

"I took rather too much wine at dinner..."

"I should be home with my husband...."

Satisfied that no one was paying us any mind I looked back to her, only to realize she had been watching me.

"Dis O-pera it said to be excellent, no?"

"Yes, quite." I handed her her glass and we toasted. I took a sip of champagne and she followed suit. I was spell bound as I watched the flicker of the tip of her tongue meet the first, cold, bubbling taste of wine. She swirled it in her mouth, slowly, thoughtfully, and then swallowed.

"Who are you?' I heard myself ask and then inwardly curse myself for doing so. She stared back.

"I am a trap."

"What, don't be ridiculous."

"Vell, if dat's vat you sink about dis arrangement, den you're the vone who is ridiculous." Her eyes sparkled under her mask devilishly as she took another sip.

"Why?'

"Because dat's vhat you vant me to be." The lights on stage came up; she picked up the binoculars and looked down at it. I moved closer to her, thinking that no one had ever so completely understood me before. It was all I could do to not throw myself on her right away. The folds of her black dress rippled like waves and I longed for them to wash over me.

"And how my sweet Lady do you suppose that I want that?'

"Be-cos, my dear sir, I alvays know. I pride myself on it."

"And, how, do you know, exactly?" I reached over to her and placed my hand over hers as it lay on her lap.

"You are telling me right now."

"I am then?" Applause began in the Opera House. We both looked down to see that the conductor had entered from the side of the stage and was standing in front of the Orchestra graciously accepting his applause. He bowed slowly, turned toward the musicians and tapped his baton on the music stand. It tinked and I could feel everyone sit up a little more straight. The first notes of the Opera began softly, unobtrusively with a lone flute, like a spider skimming along the surface of a pond; it was joined by a violin skipping along behind it, followed by five others one at a time. A cello began short notes all in the same key, like drops of rain into the water. It soon became many drops with many notes, and so the night was rebuilt in front of us.

"You are enjoying it?" She said and I returned my glance to her. Her voice, it was, or so it seemed, to be part of the music, a perfect lead instrument, a divine solo and it drew me in.

"Madam, I must tell you, that I am enraptured by you."

"Of course" she smiled, "vhy else vould you be here." I narrowed my eyes at her as she herself moved closer and looked back to the stage as an actress appeared at the top of the castle, prompting much applause. The singer looked around appreciatively and began her song. Her voice broke through the music like a splash and went tripping across the surface of the song.

I returned my attention to the Lady and placed my hand over hers. I caressed it and slowly moved my hand up and down her leg under the thick layer of petty coats. She closed her eyes and slowly tugged at the fingers of her right glove. When it was loosed enough she eased it over her hand and pulled it down the length of her arm. The glove dropped off and she continued to the other. Taking off the other glove, she woman placed her hand on mine, I brought it to my mouth and kissed it. The taste of her skin, the feel of it on my tongue was indescribable, and I pushed her smallest finger into my mouth. The hard, sharp nail pressed into my tongue and she moved closer still. I looked around; no one was watching us. The woman slipped her hand behind my back and traced my spine with her fingers. My whole body was awakened, it felt touch in ways that I had never known. She turned towards me and I lifted my hand to touch her face.

Her lips were wet and I moved my thumb over them as she opened her mouth and I felt her cold darting tongue. I moved my hand down her neck and took her waist in my other hand. Her shoulders were round and glowing and I caressed them before tracing my hand down to her bosom, which was moving with rapid breath. I closed my own eyes as I felt the soft, supple mounds of flesh. I will curse myself later, I thought, not I was curing myself now; indeed I was already damned. But wished to become utterly helpless to my longing.

"Close zee curtain," she whispered. I looked at her and stood slowly, not wanting to take my hand from her. I pulled the red curtains closed just as a few patrons looked up, but they were too late to see us as we disappeared behind it. I turned to her; the music and voices pushed me towards her, as she lay stretched out on the couch, candles flickering. I pulled back the table and knelt before her. "Take off your jacket,' she smiled. Quickly I did as she told me and laid my coat and tails by. "And zee vest." I did as she asked.

Taking her delicate boot in hand I began to undo the laces, which seemed to please her. I slipped one off and then the other. She signaled for me to come closer, and so I sat beside her on the couch. She took hold of my tie and maneuvered it off, pulling me towards her by the collar. I was so close so her now that I was almost frightened. One by one she undid my buttons until my shirt hung loosely on me, then she pulled it off my shoulders and I threw it away. Scrambling out of the rest of my garments I got up on the couch beside her, we met in open-mouthed ecstasy.

My tongue against hers felt so strange and alluring, her lips were so full and tantalizing under them. I couldn't resist tracing my lips and tongue, down her shoulders and neck to that over spilling bosom. She groaned with pleasure and held me closer to her as thrust my tongue into the small space in between her breasts. I could not contain myself and tried to reach around her. She pushed me back, climbed on top of me and began to trace my chest with her fingers. Pausing slightly over my nipples and then moving her mouth to them she began to suck at them, until it almost felt like little bites and they burned with pleasure, my bare back lay against the soft red velvet.

She reached to the soft privet flesh, now grown taught with desire. I gasped under her touch as she kissed my neck for several moments. I reached round her now and undid the back of her bodice, bringing down the soft cover of midnight to reveal a white corset. She let the dress fall to her waste and I sat up and lay her back on the couch, pulling the dress off completely.

She pulled me closer to the couch. Standing naked in the Opera House box she moved my cock to her lips and kissed the head. Beginning the long agonizing tease with her tongue, she traced up and down the shaft, using her teeth ever so slightly (inducing a fear on top of the immense pleasure it created). I swayed a little as my fingers remained anchored on her shoulders and waves of pleasure crashed through me. I pulled away and kneeled in front of her. As a loud chorus begun on stage I took hold of her leg and traced my hands up under the hidden folds of her petty coats.