A New York Haunting: Pt. 12

Opening the door to the box directly across, he drew her inside and shut it behind them. They were in the small antechamber, separated from the unaware, elderly couple only by the heavy, scarlet silk drapery. Conversation was impossible with the rising orchestra music and singing, and although the words Ondine mouthed at him were indecipherable, the panic in her countenance was not.

Arm's length apart they stood, staring at each other in the dim illumination of a wall-sconce, the red and gold silk walls and drapes glowing around them.

With one step towards her, Anders wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. And in one breathless moment, she was kissing him back --- arms flung around his neck and tongue meeting his --- she was kissing him back! Struggling against her corset to mold her body yet more tightly against his, he lifted her feet off the floor, drunk and tumescent with the feel of her light, willowy figure and eager lips. He kissed her and kissed her, all breath and honey and brandy.

Setting her feet back upon the carpet, he bent over her, his open lips trailing over her ears and neck, and his large hands roving over the sensual velvet fabric covering her, only to have his craving to touch her treasures thwarted by the rigid whalebone stays.

All reason abandoned, he grasped her skirts and yanked them up in wild handfuls of gown and petticoats. The girl's shocked eyes swung to the drape a yard away, then returned to his, wide and insistent, shaking her head even as she helped him pull up her gown.

His hands groped in a paradise of smooth, warm skin and feminine undergarments --- delicate cotton, frilly garters, silk stockings. By frantic touch he identified drawers under the lower edge of her corset and fumbled for the center split --- and when his fingers found her little wet cunny, her protesting headshake ceased. Long lashes voluptuously sinking, her hands clutched the sides of his tuxedo jacket, and her forehead pressed against his shirt front.

She trembled as he twiddled her stiff morsel, one of her hands releasing his jacket to grab and squeeze the heavy column tenting his trousers, the white of her glove stark against the black wool. Anders groaned into her hair. His big finger in exultation found the proof of his recent possession in her now breached hymen, wriggling into her for a quick greedy feel before abruptly spinning her around to face away from him.

If he could not fight the unyielding silhouette of her corset, he would use its bosom-thrust-forward, hips-thrust-back stance to their advantage. One hand bunching her skirts up to her hips, the other popped open the buttons of his garments to release his overwrought organ.

The white of the girl's undergarments was luminous in the plush red shadows. The lower portion of the long corset extended below her waist, and although she bent forward under his urging hands, the wretched, repressive contraption covered the upper half of her exquisite round buttocks, while her lace-trimmed drawers covered the remainder. Blue satin bows decorated the garters where they connected to her thigh-high black stockings.

Spreading the drawers' slit, he mounted her, his bulbous knob finding her slippery vaginal inlet and push ... push ... pushing its way into her narrow sheath ... pushing into an otherworldly wonderland of heat and wetness and gripping female muscle. Ondine's eyes squeezed tight and her body stiffened as he buried himself in her.

The orchestra surged.

And then they were fucking --- sweetly, unreservedly, insanely FUCKING --- lifted by Isolde's tortured, longing voice. Anders' hands slid around Ondine's hips to delve into the front of the drawers' opening, one splaying over her lower belly to fortify the profane propulsion, the other rubbing her erect clitoris. He hunched over her, his mouth straining for hers, she twisting her head back to meet him.

In the raw language of Eros, his lips, hands, and indriven cock spoke for his spellbound heart. Oh, sweet Love! You're mine! Mine!

One whisk aside of the heavy silk curtain was all that it would take for thousands of opera patrons to witness the scandalous, ruinous act transpiring in the back of a Metropolitan Opera House box some eight feet behind the backs of its ignorant owners --- a lovely petite girl bent forward, her skirts tossed high and her hands flat on the wall --- a strapping young man leaning over her with his legs braced wide as he lewdly thrust into her from behind. As below, so too did their tongues above match the shameless motions of fornication.

On the other side of the drape, the orchestra swelled louder and louder with the stage lovers' duet, the strident strumming of violins driving the real lovers' escalating duet and masking its telltale sounds.

"ISOLDE!!" sang out the tenor

"TRI-STAAAN!!" the soprano warbled.

Lips breaking free of his, Ondine's head arched back on his shoulder. Anders' open mouth shook against her neck with the vigorous rhythm of his pumping body.

"Anders ... I - I love you!!" she gasped by his ear.

"Oh God! Ondine!!"

With the orchestra's crescendo, Tristan's and Isolde's rapturous, resounding voices soared in unison to the far corners of the magnificent auditorium --- the tormented German oscillating so powerfully that everything was reverberating --- the finely-carpeted floor, the silk-covered walls, the gilt-trimmed ceiling, Ondine's overcrammed orgasming cunny, his erupting cock flooding her with his seed ...

In the glaze of transcendent bliss, Anders was oblivious to the aftermath until he at last came to his senses to find himself once more standing before the girl in the otherwise empty corridor behind the opera boxes. They were facing each other, some four feet apart, garments restored to proper order.

Ondine glanced towards the lounge and said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Thank you for assistance, sir. If you hadn't been near when I swooned, I might have suffered a grievous injury."

"Marry me," Anders said, his voice urgent, hoarse.

She regarded him blankly.

"You can't marry him."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"You don't love him."

"Aren't you the presumptuous one?"

He stared uncomprehendingly at her expressionless face. "If you were anticipating this engagement, why did you solicit me to --- to bed you? Why not let your fiancé do the deed?"

A wounded expression sprang to her eyes, and she began to shake her head --- then abruptly stopped. A moment later, complete composure ruled --- she nonchalantly tugged the top of one white glove higher on her upper arm. "Mr. Røkke, you alone were cognizant of the ghost's actions. I had no choice but to take advantage of your knowledge."

He gaped at her.

She shrugged and gave him a careless smile.

His heart lurched. "You love me --- you said as much."

Ondine shook her head, her eyes fixed upon her wrist as she refastened a tiny button on the glove. "I was --- simply carried away by the circumstances. Speaking of which ---"

Opening the little velvet purse hanging on her arm, she poked around briefly, extracted two quarters, and placed them upon his palm. At his confused expression, she said, "I believe we made a wager regarding the so-called crisis of bliss. I am not too proud to admit defeat. Nor would I want it intimated that Ondine Cornelissen Van der Veen has been remiss in paying her debts." She snapped shut the reticule. "That, I believe, concludes the business between us."

Several dozen yards down the corridor a man in a tuxedo emerged from one of the boxes. The girl stepped back and turned away. "Thank you again, sir, for your kind assistance."

"Ondine ---" he croaked.

Her head swiveled back for a scant second, her big hazel eyes lifting to his, a tear seeming to shine in her heavy lashes. But with her blink and curt head nod, the illusion vanished. She walked away from him.

Chapter 52. KAISER WILHELM DER GROSSE

His heart and mind staggered through the two weeks that followed the encounter at the opera. Numb to his surroundings, Anders recalled only two incidents since then.

The first was after he had somehow found his way back to the Mullenixes' opera box. His distraught eyes had picked out a motion in a private box on the opposite side of the auditorium --- Ondine joining her companions, and the young man seated next to her claiming her white-gloved hand to kiss it.

The second incident was him giving Ondine's two quarters to a beggar outside the opera house as they waited for the carriage.

Somehow, he made it through his Diseases of Children clerkship and took the exam at the end of February --- years of discipline rescuing his academic performance from disaster.

No further did he peruse the landlady's gossip rag --- nor any other newspaper he encountered. No longer did he haunt Central Park; instead he took the train to the Nassau Rowing Club to use the hydraulic rower for exercise. He vowed never to think of the girl again --- but with the wound of her cold dismissal so raw, he was unable to adhere to that decree. And when he did think of her, it was with a varying jumble of confusion, disbelief, love, lust, and hate.

Something about the whole business eluded him, and as much as his heart rebelled against it, he began to wonder if Dr. Mullenix's warning about heartless females had been more than merely tongue-in-cheek.

Like an automaton, he prepared for the upcoming transatlantic voyage --- packing, prepaying his rent to Mrs. Sullivan, and having a farewell dinner with Fulton Fordyce. Even his old friend's lively chatter could not dispel his morose mood.

Attempting to distract himself, Anders pondered the possibility of taking a side excursion to Norway while overseas. Perhaps he could search for his grandparents and aunts and uncles, or at the very least, visit his mother's grave. But again, the prospect of such a visit did not elevate his spirits.

The morning of March 5^th at last arrived --- the day Dr. Mullenix and he were to board the steamship Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, bound for Bremen. It was now a month after the tryst in Ondine's bedroom and seventeen days since the incident at the opera house. In preparation for the early morning departure, he had spent the previous night at the Mullenix mansion, where he had repacked his belongings in a good quality traveling trunk lent to him by his mentor.

They stood on the sidewalk in front of the surgeon's residence as the coachman strapped their trunks to the rear boot. Mullenix was engaged in conversation with his valet Murdoch, while Anders' dismal eyes surveyed the avenue in the gray morning light. At this late point in the winter, the March snow was as fouled and trampled as his dreams.

When he eventually returned in six weeks, it would be spring. Would Ondine be married? Doubtfully. From her story about her first engagement, he understood that Society engagements were usually quite long. The thought of returning to New York City with Ondine still somewhere in its midst --- unmarried --- weighed upon him. Until she was married and absolutely lost to him, his heart could not heal.

He was distracted from this glum reverie by the appearance of a lad in a messenger's uniform. "Dr. Mullenix?" asked the boy.

"Here, son."

Extracting an envelope from his satchel, the boy handed it to the doctor. "Thank you, sir," he said to the tip and trotted off. As Anders' gaze returned to the surroundings, Mullenix opened the envelope and read the message.

The brief downturn of his mouth did not escape Anders' attention. Even in his disconsolate state, his sense of social propriety was not completely compromised. "Bad news, sir?" he inquired politely.

Dr. Mullenix shook his head and tucked the envelope into his inside coat pocket. "Just a little setback in the department."

A few minutes later they were off --- he and the surgeon sitting on opposite seats inside, the valet Murdoch riding up above with the coachman. The sound of the wheels and hoofbeats for some time filled the otherwise silent carriage. Dr. Mullenix seemed unusually pensive, his fingers drumming on his thigh.

At length, the man cleared his throat. "Anders, I sense that you've had a tumultuous month, most recently marked by low spirits."

Anders' eyes shifted to him. "I'm sorry, sir, if I have been less than pleasant company."

Mullenix shook his head. "No, no. No need to apologize. I'm not in the least bit slighted. As my wife often complains, I'm largely a dunce when it comes to other people's emotions." He winked. "The reason for even bringing up the subject is that I have some information that might alleviate a portion of your funk. I've been debating whether to share it with you, as I fear it might have the reverse effect and aggravate the situation."

"Sir?" Anders' brows drew together. "You've roused my curiosity enough now that you cannot not tell me."

His mentor smiled grimly. "Very well, but I shan't answer for the consequences."

Anders nodded.

"A few days ago, Ellen and I were guests at a dinner party which the Cornelissen family also attended."

A muscle flicked in Anders' cheek.

"The host, being an avid art collector, had a remarkable viewing salon for his acquisitions. It was after dinner, in this salon, where I had the occasion to speak to our fair collaborator in relative privacy as we strolled about admiring the paintings. I thanked her once again for her contributions to our article and of course congratulated her on her recent engagement."

Anders listened intently.

"She thanked me, but the dispirited expression on her face was not one that presaged nuptial bliss. Glancing about the chamber, seeming to assure herself we were out of earshot of other guests, she said, 'Dr. Mullenix, Mr. Røkke has spoken very highly of you and of his good fortune in gaining your mentorship.'

"'That is very kind of him. The respect is mutual.'

"'I am hoping that you will do me a service in your capacity as his mentor, sir.'

"'Of course, Mrs. Van der Veen. How can I assist you?' I said gallantly.

"'It's not so much for me as it is for Mr. Røkke.' Again, the nervous girl glanced around. 'About a month ago, in consequence of a ... a most unfortunate miscalculation on my part, my aunt came to know of ... my feelings for Mr. Røkke. Armed with this knowledge, she has persuaded me to at last to accept her choice of a husband for me.'

"I looked at her inquiringly, not fully comprehending," Mullenix said.

Anders urged him on with a rapt nod.

"The lady paused to let another pair of guests stroll further away before continuing, 'In short, if I do not relinquish my medical ambitions, marry a suitable gentleman, and take my place in Society, she has vowed to ruin Mr. Røkke's career --- likewise if we attempt to see each other again.' Her voice choked momentarily. 'And she has the means to do so.'

"God damn! I thought, regarding her in shock. 'My dear girl, this is intolerable!'

"But she silenced me with a raised hand. 'Dr. Mullenix, I do not tell you this to beg for a knight in shining armor. The folly was mine, and so must be the consequences. But I cannot bear to see An--- Mr. Røkke hurt. It would destroy me to see his ambitions crushed, knowing I alone had the power to prevent it.' The girl's eyes teared up. 'I have thus agreed to my aunt's terms. What I do ask, sir, is that you look out for him --- if anyone interferes with his career or tries to harm him, you must let me know. If my aunt does not uphold her end of the truce, then the Devil take her, I shan't either!'

"Another quick survey of the room and a deep breath restored her composure. Her sad eyes sought mine. 'I beg you, sir --- say nothing of this to Mr. Røkke. He must cease troubling himself over me and jeopardizing his dreams.'

"Naturally, I promised the young lady to do as she asked." Dr. Mullenix paused, shaking his head, his mouth an unhappy line. "By God, I sorely decry not honoring my word, but my conscience has been racked seeing your unremitting despair."

Stunned, Anders stared at the surgeon. Herregud! Ondine loved him! She loved him! The next moment, he was on his feet, lunging for the carriage door while Mullenix hauled him back by his coat.

"Let me go!" He banged on the carriage roof. "Stop the carriage!"

"Anders! Are you mad?!" The surgeon dragged the younger man down onto the seat next to him, restraining him.

"I can't let her do it! I can't make my career on the back of her misery! Her dreams --- her ambitions --- her happiness are no less important than mine! So long as she can pursue them, I don't care about being a surgeon! I can be a chemist --- a druggist --- I can return to Norway and practice there! The Cornelissens hold no sway there!"

"Get a hold of yourself, man! You're going off half-cocked! Don't throw away your career without a second thought!"

The brougham halted and the coachman looked in; Dr. Mullenix shook his head and told him to drive on.

Anders braced his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, shaking it insistently as he muttered, "No, she mustn't do it! I won't accept it."

Mullenix put an arm over his shoulders. "Stop and think! As you would any dilemma --- stop and think. We'll have plenty of time to mull it over on the ship. Perhaps there are angles we haven't considered."

Lifting his face, Anders looked at him in anguish.

The surgeon ruefully shook his head. "This is why I hesitated to tell you of this. I had hoped it would be some consolation to know how deeply the girl loves you. Despite my best intentions, I fear I have caused you worse pain."

Eyes unseeing, heart reeling, Anders scarcely registered the remainder of the journey --- the ferry to Hoboken, the short carriage ride to the quay where towered the black hull and steaming smokestacks of the ship, and the bustling activity on the pier of embarking passengers, porters, and ship's stewards. In any other circumstance, the enormous vessel would have captured his undivided attention. Indeed, while planning the voyage a few months ago, he had been excited to hear they would be traveling on board the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse --- a behemoth ocean liner noted for its innovative engine design and remarkable speed.

Instead, he numbly followed Mullenix, his gaze again and again jumping across the Hudson to Manhattan and searching the skyline now haloed in the rising sun. Ondine was there --- his darling sweet Ondine --- and his only desire was to free her from her aunt's hold, even if it was not to be with him. He could still return --- it was not too late. He could run back to shore and find a hansom cab.

... and renege on the commitment he had made to his mentor to assist him in writing the surgery textbook. He gritted his teeth.

Dr. Mullenix and his valet were engaged in conversation with a steward, reviewing the tickets and organizing the trunks that had been unloaded from the brougham. Vaguely, Anders was aware of the steward telling him his trunk would be in his cabin --- he nodded and looked back towards the row of cabs.

A spot of color on the teeming quay caught his eye.

It was a spruce green wool hat with a pom-pom on top --- on a sprightly young woman approaching along the pier!

Anders blinked, his mouth falling open. And yet she was still there --- her ankle-length gray skirt swirling, and her coat flapping open with her nimble pace. A large, flat, leather portfolio bag slung over her shoulder bounced against her hip as she veered past people.

"Ondine!" he cried, bolting towards her. She broke into a run, and when a moment later they reached each other, he grabbed her truly-there shoulders and stared down at her precious face. "How are you here?! What are you doing here?!"