The Art of Manipulation || Phantom of the Opera & Loki the God of Mischief ||

Epilogue

"Good evening, Alouette."

"Good evening, Mrs. Destler."

I smiled and said 'hello' to the ballerinas who greeted me and ducked under the legs they had raised to stretch.

Coming to the managers' door, I knocked and chimed, "Delivery!"

The door opened not a second afterwards, exposing the two managers inside, "Finally! We're starving!"

Laughing, I handed them their craved food, "I hope it isn't cold."

The one manager replied, "Who cares? It's food!"

With a mouth full of sandwich, the other said, "Long day with put-in rehearsals. We both skipped lunch."

I gave an understanding, "Aaah, I see. Life in show business." while nodding my head. "Well, I better get to my rounds before the doors open."

They waved a distracted food filled "see you later" at me as I shut the door to their office.

Removing the remaining top lairs of my winter clothing, I went down the next lair of steps to the office below the managers. With my hand on the doorknob and a smile on my face, I read the plaque on the door:

Musical Director
Alouette Destler

I turned the knob and pushed open the door. Once inside, I shut the door, hanging my jacket and my scarf on the coat rack behind it. I then plopped down in my chair, slumping down low and blowing a lock of hair that fell over my face. I sat in three moments of silence, my mind still having trouble adjusting to the usual beginning of my job here at the Majestic Theater; the job I've had for years. Raising my left hand, I looked at the diamond ring that encircled my ring finger, my cheeks sore from the smile that seems to constantly stretch my lips. The diamond glittered beautifully, it's cut perfect and the color gorgeous. Erik had picked it out years ago, whispering his choice to me when we were ring shopping in Paris together.

Ha, 'together'. When are we not together? When am I without that wonderful voice in my head, or without his protective spirit?

"It still doesn't sparkle the way your eyes do when you smile."

I giggled at that haunting voice, replying to the air in front of me, "That's quite cheesy, my love."

I felt the warmth of Erik's spirit travel up the denim covering my thighs, "You like cheesy."

Smiling behind my curled fingers, I said, "I love cheese."

The faint warmth of his breath traveled over my face, causing my eyelids to flutter shut. In a low voice, he said, "You know, being a real ghost is quite fun. I can touch you like this in public and no one will know."

Gasping slightly from the scandalous places his hands were venturing, I answered, "I would know. I do know. You talk as if you haven't been doing this for the past hundred years or so." I glared at where I guessed his face was, the stern look difficult to keep with warmth traveling higher up my thighs and the rumbling chuckle in my ear.

I eventually escaped the tempting hands of the ghost in my office. It was difficult - as it always is when Erik is being persistent and mischievous - but I managed to free myself.

With my bundle of notes I walked up the flight of winding stairs, passing dressing room doors and Phantom memorabilia as I went. On the way up the flight of stairs, I was flooded by the sound of over a hundred actors and actresses warming up their voices for tonight's performance. At the top floor, I knocked on the other 'managers'' dressing room, "Gentlemen?"