Master of the Opera, Act 3: Phantom Serenade Read Online Free

nude.”
    “Chocolate-chip cookies?”
    “Not even for chocolate-chip cookies.”
    “You said you owed me.” Hally narrowed her hazel eyes in mock threat. “Don’t cross the goddess blessed.”
    A chill shivered across Christy’s skin and she met Hally’s gaze. The other girl’s face had gone white, with a greenish cast beneath. Christy swallowed the dryness in her throat. “Well, that was dramatic.”
    “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
    “I do.” Christy glanced uneasily out of the closed windows. “Still, you shouldn’t say such things.”
    Hally sighed. “I know. Now I’ll have to light a bunch of candles and do penance.”
    “How do you do penance?”
    “It’s personal—I’ll give up something I don’t want to. It’s between me and the universe.” Hally shrugged her acquiescence and started to pack up the paints again. “Probably not being able to finish this painting will be enough pain.”
    Christy chewed on her lip, tugged between conflicting emotions. The sense of being drawn along by fate both unsettled and excited her. In the painting’s background lurked the shadows of furniture that could be the Master’s. And one dark form could be his cloaked figure. Would the painting give her some sort of answer?
    “I’ll pose.” She blurted it out before she could change her mind. “But naked from the waist up only. I’ll drape scarves over the rest and you can use your artistic license or what have you.”
    Instead of her earlier excited squeals, Hally studied her with grave concern. “What changed your mind?”
    Christy lifted a shoulder and let it drop, tried a smile that came out wobbly. “I want to see how it comes out.”
    “The painting?”
    “All of it.” She reached out again, this time toward the shadowy form in the dimness. The suggestion of him faded, became mere brushstrokes. “Remember how I said it was a long story, what happened last night?”
    “Yes.”
    “I was here.”

3
    C hristy undressed in Hally’s tiny bathroom. She only had a shower stall, too. Such a long way from Roman’s opulent sunken tub. The medicine cabinet mirror didn’t reflect below her breasts, so the scars on her belly were thankfully out of sight. She wore Hally’s robe back out, and the other girl kept her back turned until Christy had arranged herself, strategically draping the off-limits portions of her body with scarves left handily nearby.
    “Okay,” she said, once she was reasonably sure none of the scars showed.
    Hally scrutinized her, her face absorbed. “Don’t hold your breath. Relax.”
    Easy for her to say—she wasn’t undressed in broad daylight for the first time in, oh, eleven years.
    Bringing a few more pillows to approximate the angle of the painted chaise, Hally tucked them under Christy’s shoulder, coaxing her to lie more on her shoulders, but with her hip turned up so her thigh dropped over in front, hiding the vee at her crotch. When Hally adjusted the scarves, Christy stopped her.
    “I’ll do that.”
    Hally knelt on the floor in front of her, her lips pursed. Not meeting her gaze, Christy focused on the scarves. “Surgery scars?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. Our scars reflect that we’ve struggled—and won.”
    “How do you know I’ve won?” The words came out in a strained whisper. Such a small thing, to yank her back to that time.
    “You’re here, aren’t you? That’s a win every time. When you’re ready, stretch your arms over your head and turn your face toward me.”
    Christy did, lying her cheek against her arm. Hally frowned at her.
    “Something’s not quite right. Can you cross your wrists and stretch them up more?”
    She followed suit, feeling how the more strained position raised her breasts, her nipples peaking taut even in the warm apartment.
    “Now think of him.”
    Hally didn’t have to specify—they both knew who she meant. She let herself think of the Master,