It's not just a sex thing

(The start of a story I started writing a bit ago.. I sort of got stuck with it.. I have a few of these ha ha)

It's not just a sex thing

By Samantha King

“The dreams I dream are that of a man to sweep me from this place. I know I’ve heard all the feminist rantings, we don’t need a man. But God damn it, I want one.  Not one of those silly boys, not some macho hero, I want a man who wants me. Maybe it’s some warped daddy issue, maybe I didn’t get spanked enough or some stupid Freudian thing. But I just want to be needed.  I love the idea of some Phantom of the Opera desiring me as much as he did Christine.  I wouldn’t care that he was deformed. Hell yeah I want a man who would steal me away from the world, one that would kill for me. Ok well maybe not kill for me well maybe, no; that just made me sound psychotic.”

Lily sat in a huge green leather chair, facing a tiny frail looking grey haired woman, who took notes like it was some sort of marathon.  She would look up at Lily every now and then, and nod.  Lily had no idea what was going through her brain as she blurted out her one greatest desire.

“So who played your favourite Phantom?” she asked Lily, her glasses sitting perched on the tip of her nose.  Lily wanted to reach over and push them up her face properly. Just the little things irritated Lily.

“Well it’s either Michael Crawford or Gerard Butler.  I think probably Gerard Butler, only because it was made into a movie and I can watch him.” After all it was Gerard Butler’s face behind the mask she thought about in the dark, but she wasn’t going to tell this woman about it, she might just die of a stroke.

“So is it the Phantom that you are obsessed with or Gerard Butler?”

“No definite the Phantom, I mean don’t get me wrong, Gerard has very sexy eyes, a body I could lick for hours, and an accent that makes me weak at the knees, but it’s not until I see him in the mask, playing that dark and mysterious role and singing with that dark gravelly voice, that’s when he is at his most lustful, it’s the Phantom I want.  I never understood, why Christine would ever want to run away with that other ridiculous man Raoul”

The woman was scribbling away, Lily couldn’t quite make out what she was writing, but she was sure that it would be something about how she was insane, with major sexual hang ups.  After all isn’t that what all therapists were about?

“So have you ever acted out being Christine in your sexual life?”

Lily blushed, she had. But it didn’t end well.  Her boyfriend dumped her the next day. He was mortified by the whole thing.  Mason had been a great boyfriend, so patient; he knew that he had to share their lives with this fictional character.  Then one day she had asked him, if he would wear the mask, while they made love. He had agreed, but then something took hold of Lily.  She became an animal, tearing at his skin with her nails and teeth. It was no longer making love, but hard core animalistic fucking. She loved it; Mason, well not so. A buzzer suddenly chimed and broke Lily’s thought.

“Lily I’m sorry but our session is finished for today, can we pick this up again next week?” the woman had at least fixed her glasses.

Lily smiled and stood up, feeling like she had accomplished nothing.  She wasn’t any less addicted to the Phantom or Gerard Butler’s version of him.  As she left the faceless building in a sea of buildings, she couldn’t shake the night with Mason out of her mind.  She was sorry that it had weirded Mason out. But she wanted more, not just the sex, but the danger, the unknown, the being stolen away.  Lily had even once taken opera lessons, in hope that she could join some old theatre that just might have an opera ghost.  She didn’t even finish out the lesson; before the instructor told her that maybe she would be better doing thrash metal rather than ruining Madame Butterfly.