Page 31 of Angel's Mask

“Thank you,” Julianne said. “Good to know you’re not too scandalized.”

“Well, this is the Paris Opera, not a convent.”

The sparkle rekindled in Julianne’s eyes. “You don’t think they get up to the same thing in convents? All those women all alone together...nothing else to do...”

“Julianne!” Christine gasped as the other woman burst out laughing.

“You know it’s true! I bet that’s half the reason some women join!” Julianne continued to cackle, and Christine shook her head. Her cheeks were hot already but if they were joking about it, perhaps...

“I know I shouldn’t, but I have to ask...” Christine stammered, her pulse increasing as she spoke. “How do – I mean – two women – what do – oh God, never mind.”

“I thought you got a good look,” Julianne snickered, and Christine wanted to sink into the floor.

“I’m sorry! For all of it. But I mean...” She wasn’t even sure what she was asking, but she so desperately wanted to understand what lovers felt and if it was close to what she desired. “I just don’t understandhow—”

“How a woman can make another woman come?” Julianne offered far too easily. “Much better than a man can, usually.” Christine stared at her friend, utterly lost. “Good Lord, you can’t think fucking is just all cocks and cunts. There’s a lot you can do with all sort of parts.” Julianne laughed again at Christine’s blank expression. “A hand, a tongue, a thigh. They call all get you to that special place.”

Again, Christine found herself staring while also wanting nothing more than to crawl out of her skin and disappear. “I don’t know what thatmeans,” she whispered.

“Coming?” Julianne waited a beat, maybe expecting Christine to laugh or understand. “For most folk, it’s the whole point of fucking! For fun at least. Wait, have you never...?”

Christine buried her face in her hands, her cheeks on fire. “I’ve never beenwithanyone. That way,” she said, voice muffled.

“Well, the good news is you don’t strictly need another person to get there,” Julianne replied, casual and easy, and Christine’s gaze shot back to her. “Jesus, girl, I’m going to assume you’ve maybe...explored?”

Christine gave a small nod, thinking back to Carlotta’s copper bath and so many moments in the dark, longing for something unknown.

“Christ in heaven, I can’t believe I have to be the one to educate you on this, but...when you’re enjoying yourself, let’s say. It’s like you’re trying to get somewhere, right? That’s what I’m talking about. People call it the little death sometimes, and that’s not wrong. It’s this moment, at the end, where everything is perfect and wild and quiet and...” Julianne let out a breath and Christine’s head continued to spin. Was that what she’d been fumbling for and unable to find?

“How do you know if you have...arrived?” Christine asked, sheepishly.

“Believe me, you’ll know,” Julianne replied with another husky laugh. “And like I said, don’t let anyone tell you that you need a man for that. Get there however you like with whoever you like. Or with your own hands!”

Christine didn’t think it was possible to blush more at this point, but she kept surprising herself. At least Julianne’s laughter was kind as Christine hid her face again. For too long she’d refused to name the things her angel’s voice made her feel, but she couldn’t ignore it, not now. The desire, the ecstasy, the hunger for a pleasure she hadn’t even known was possible.

“How did I end up friends with one of the last virgins in the Paris Opera,” Julianne sighed, and Christine looked up enough to glare.

“Come on, the rats aren’t all corrupted,” she said.

“Oh, give me time,” Julianne winked. Christine couldn’t help but laugh, pushing her friend playfully. The merriment only lasted for a few seconds before Julianne’s face darkened once again. Christine knew she was thinking about Jammes.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Christine offered, hoping it would help. “I’d never do that to either of you.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Julianne sighed. “Buquet likes to gossip. Some of it he spreads for fun and some he sells. I just hope that we don’t matter enough to be a topic.”

“I hope so too,” Christine said. She also hoped that the Ghost had put enough fear into him to stay quiet, but she wasn’t sure. A chill ran through her, recalling some of the darker stories about her phantom and she wondered if Buquet knew them.

“You have to get back to work,” Julianne said, nodding to the door.

“What about you?”

“I think I’ll go home. Carlotta dismissed me after I poked her with pins for the fourth time. And she didn’t even know I was doing it on purpose.” Christine snickered at the image.

“Be careful,” Christine said.

“I’m going home to eat my mother’s cooking and sleep in my own room in a real flat, I’m not the one who needs to be careful,” Julianne replied pointedly.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

---