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From: Tiramisu <tiramixu@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} NEW Tiramisu "The Music of the Night" MF Rom OG (Opera Ghost) A Halloween Story
Date: Sat, 14 Oct 2000 21:10:04 -0400
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CONTENT WARNING: This story has an adult theme and may include graphic
descriptions of sexual acts. If it is either illegal where you are, or
you are not of legal age to view such material, please stop now.
"The Music of the Night" MF Rom, OG (Opera Ghost)
A Halloween story.
Copyright October, 2000 by Tiramisu. All rights reserved. Please do not
repost without explicit permission of the author. Permission is granted
for archiving in ass and assm.
Comments are welcome. Email Tiramixu@yahoo.com.
"The Music of the Night"
Paris. The Opera. THE Opera.
Lisa Stratford was stunned by it's beauty: the statuary, the
sculpture, the friezes. Inside, there was the white marble staircase,
the green and red marble balustrade, and the Grand Foyer. The
Auditorium itself was magnificent, too, with sculptures and the Chagall
ceiling.
She clutched Michael's arm. She loved him more every day, even after
20 years. But this, this was too much. Everything was perfect. A
Friday night flight to Paris, first class, with lobster medallions,
fine wine, and delightful pastries. Then, the wonderful little relais
on the Rue de la Paix: Louis XIII furnishings, fresh flowers in the
room, and a window overlooking the courtyard and garden. And now, on
Saturday night, the Opera, and later, a stroll on the Champs Elysees.
And later still, she would be alone with Michael in the room at the
relais.
But the play was the thing: a special Halloween performance of "The
Phantom of the Opera," with Sarah Brightman as Christine Daiae and
Andrea Bocelli as The Phantom. A special performance at THE Opera;
Lisa loved Brightman and Bocelli, especially Bocelli.
"Happy Anniversary, darling" he had said when he showed her the
tickets.
This truly was a special night, and Lisa had taken special care in
getting ready. Black silk bikini panties and black silk camisole
under
a black satin evening gown. A touch of the perfume he loved.
Actually, five touches. Behind her left ear. On her throat. Between
her breasts. Her belly below the navel. Behind her right knee. The
places he loved to kiss. All the places but one: only natural
perfume there.
At 42, she still looked good and she knew it. She knew it because he
told her. Often. Even better than when they were married, he would
say. Good enough to fire his desire, she knew. Michael looked
wonderful, too: black hair with a touch of gray, neatly trimmed beard,
deep blue eyes. And god, did he look good in a tux. She hadn't seen
him in a tux since their wedding, 20 years ago to the day, and he
looked even better now.
They settled into their seats and the lights dimmed. She took
Michael's hand, ran her fingernail across his palm and his wrist.
Teasing. She loved to tease him, building his passion over a long
period of time, flirting with him during the day, letting him catch a
glimpse as she got dressed, holding his hand at the Opera. Building
his passion and her own. Already, she was thinking about later tonight,
when he would kiss those five places, and other places, and finally
make love to her, softly, sweetly, teasing her with slow strokes until
she was ready, and then. . .
The orchestra began. The overture: first, the haunting strains of the
organ, then, the softer melodies of "The Music of the Night." And
then, the play began, with Christine, Sarah Brightman, singing so
beautifully. Lisa held Michael's hand.
She loved this play. She had seen it in London and Toronto and even
Hartford, and had long wanted to see the New York production, but to
see it in Paris, with Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli - it was just
perfect.
The Phantom appeared on stage: Andrea Bocelli, in a white mask, and a
black tux exactly like Michael's. Bocelli sang, and it sent shivers
down Lisa's spine.
Down to the dungeon, down to the subterranean lake, the Phantom took
Christine. There were candles everywhere; candles even appeared to be
floating on the lake. A small boat took them across the lake, where
the Phantom commanded, "Sing for me, sing for me my Angel of Music,"
and Christine sang. "Ahhh", she cried.
"Sing for ME!" the Phantom commanded, and she sang "Ahhhhh!", her voice
rising higher and higher as The Phantom commanded her again and again.
Lisa felt goosebumps.
The song climaxed and Christine hit and held the piercing high note,
"AHHHHH!!" To Lisa it was erotic, almost orgasmic, and she felt her
body respond. She wondered if anyone else saw eroticism in Christine's
cries, her submission to the Phantom. Sing for me. Come for me. Lisa
was wet. It wasn't Bocelli. Well, it wasn't just Bocelli; it was the
Phantom. Lisa squeezed Michael's hand. He squeezed back.
Before Lisa could regain her composure, Bocelli launched into an
incredibly beautiful rendition of "The Music of the Night." When
Bocelli sang,
"Silently the senses
abandon their defenses"
she was entranced.
The rest of the first act was a blur, until the Phantom cried "GO!!!!",
and the chandelier flew across the theatre and crashed to the stage,
shaking Lisa from her trance. The lights came up.
Intermission.
Lisa was breathless. "I need some air," she said and rose from the
seat. Michael nodded.
Lisa went out the side exit, "The Music of the Night" running through
her head. She looked left and right to find the way to the street.
The street should be to the left, but the crowds blocked the way.
There was a door to the right, and she was drawn to it. She opened the
door and saw a dimly lit stairway, spiraling down. This couldn't be
right. Her heart was beating faster, the Music filling her brain. No
this couldn't be right, she thought, but she couldn't help herself: she
went down the spiral staircase.
Down. And down. And down.
Footsteps? Did she hear footsteps behind her? She stopped, listened.
Silence. She continued down the steps, and heard it again. Was she
imagining things? She shouldn't be here, she knew, and now she was
frightened. Faster, and faster she descended, not stopping to listen
again, wondering if the footsteps were behind her, following her.
A door! She opened it, and raced through and came upon an eerie
sight. An underground lake. Music overwhelmed her senses: The Angel
of Music, The Music of the Night. There were candles everywhere;
candles even appeared to be floating on the lake. It was all vaguely
familiar. Where had she seen this before? Panting, she stopped, and
heard the footsteps behind her again. Closer, and coming closer.
She saw a small boat, and jumped in, paddling across the lake. More
candles. A chair. She got out of the boat and looked back, hoping to
see who was following her, hoping not to. Would he be able to get
across the lake without the boat? How would she get out of here?
She turned to look for another way out and felt a hand on her
shoulder. Lisa screamed. She turned and faced a man in a black tux
and white mask.
Wordlessly, he placed a finger to her lips and her scream was
silenced. He slipped the gown from her shoulders, letting it slide to
her hips. She was mesmerized, unable to resist, the Music playing in
her head. Silently the senses abandon their defenses. Lisa was very
excited.
Fleeting thoughts fought the Music in her brain, but she couldn't
focus. Was there really a Phantom? As he pushed the gown down past
her hips, she became even more aroused. And she felt guilty. Because
she had long harbored secret fantasies about Bocelli? She had to
resist. He kissed her behind her left ear and she felt weak. He
kissed her throat and she felt her juices flow.
He pushed her down onto the chair. Resist, she thought, but she was
defenseless, overwhelmed by the Music in her head, overcome by passion
and guilt. He pushed the camisole up, kissed between her breasts, then
kissed the left nipple and she moaned. He held the nipple between his
teeth, flicking it gently with his tongue, and she was lost.
He kissed lower, down over her belly, kissed between her navel and the
top of her panties, kissed and nibbled the inside of her thighs and she
knew that she was his. She needed him. Now. "Sing for me, my angel!"
he cried as he ran his hand down her right leg, and lifted it, kissing
behind her right knee, running his tongue up the inside of her right
thigh. "Sing for ME!" he commanded, and ran his tongue between her
legs, tonguing her through her panties.
"AHHH!" she cried, and came instantly, moaning, screaming, grinding
against his face.
He slipped the panties down and she did not resist. And then he was
inside her, teasing with long, slow strokes, build her passion to a
second crescendo. "Sing for ME!" Was it the Phantom or the Music in
her head? When she was ready, he knew, and drove hard and deep,
grinding against her, producing delicious friction against her clit,
and she came again, harder this time, spasming around him, singing,
screaming as she came.
Her orgasm subsided, but the Music remained in her head. Where was
she? God, what had she done? The Phantom was gone. Had she passed
out? How long had she been down here? She needed to get back; the
play would be starting again, and Michael would be worried. Briefly,
she wondered if the Phantom had really been there at all, and then she
saw a white mask lying on the chair next to her.
Music was playing far above her; the second act was about to begin.
Somehow, she found her way back to her seat. Michael smiled at her.
Was it her imagination or was his face flushed? It was odd how he
acted as if there was nothing strange about her going off alone during
the intermission, and odd that he hadn't gone with her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the swirling music of
the "Masquerade." Swirling music, swirling dancers, bright, colorful
swirling costumes. For Lisa, this was usually the highlight of the
play, but her mind was filled with other thoughts. Lisa struggled to
focus on the play, but her mind kept going back to the Intermission.
What had really happened? The Intermission has lasted, what, twenty
minutes? She had been away that long. And she had orgasmed, twice.
She was sure of that. Beyond that. . .
A scream on stage. Lisa knew the story, knew what the scream meant:
Meg has found a body; The Phantom has killed Piangi. Bocelli began to
sing "The Point of No Return" and Lisa returned to her thoughts. . .
Bocelli. . . the lake, the candles, the boat. . . The Phantom. . .
Michael. . .
Her thoughts were interrupted for the last time when Bocelli
sang, "It's over, now, the Music of the Night" and as the orchestra
let the final note die, the audience erupted into thunderous
applause. People began to stand, cheering
shouting: "More!" "Bravo!!" "Encore!!!"
The cast took their bows, the Music of the Night truly over. Raoul,
Christine, and the Phantom took their final bows. Lisa squeezed
Michael's hand, hoping it was all okay, and he took her hand and kissed
it. Then Christine and the Phantom, Brightman and Bocelli, took their
bows, and finally, just Andrea Bocelli. The crowd again cheered and
cried "Encore!!", and Bocelli extended a hand toward the wings, and
Sarah Brightman skipped back onto the stage, bowing to the audience and
smiling at Bocelli.
Then the strings produced the beautiful sounds of another song so
familiar to Lisa and the audience hushed. Sarah stepped forward and
sang in soft, rising tones:
"Quando sono sola
sogno all'orrizonte
e mancan le parole. . ."
And, when she sang, "It's time to say goodbye," Bocelli stepped
forward to join her, and he sang:
"Quando sei lontana
sogno all'orrizonte
e mancan le parole. . ."
Brightman took Bocelli's hand as he sang "It's time to say goodbye,"
and sang of sailing together on ships across the seas, to places they'd
never experienced together. "Navi per mare," he sang. Lisa looked at
Michael and smiled, and he smiled back as Bocelli and Brightman sang
their duet, driving the song to it's powerful climax.
Con te partiro
Io con te!
"I will go with you," Michael whispered, and kissed her cheek.
* * *
It's over now, this story of the Music of the Night.
END
Author's notes:
Yes, The Phantom is clean shaven (whenever I've seen him) and Bocelli
is bearded (at least whenever I've seen him). I thought about using
Antonio Banderas as The Phantom - I understand there was a production
with Banderas and Brightman, but I wanted Bocelli - Lisa would have
wanted Bocelli. I also thought about having a bearded Phantom, or
having Bocelli shave. I decided to do neither. Literary license. Use
your imagination! And then, too, as you may have noticed, Michael is
bearded.
The song "Time to Say Goodbye" featuring Andrea Bocelli and Sarah
Brightman is one of my favorites. The beautiful Italian words come
from the booklet in the CD which also has a translation:
Sarah sings:
When I'm alone
I dream of the horizon
and words fail me.
Andrea sings:
When you're far away
I dream of the horizon
and words fail me.
Together they sing:
I will go with you,
I'll go with you
(But it's so much better in Italiano)
Ciao.
- Tiramisu
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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