The first room in Erik’s home was a darkly decorated foyer in blacks and greys.  There was a lovely antique table and mirror piece on one wall and the warm glow of candle-light beamed from a silver candelabra atop it.  I breathed in the scent of warmth and candle wax with a smile.  It reminded me of late nights practicing dance in the candle-light while winter snows blew roughly past my window.

    “You can leave your things here.  There is much to see.”  I gratefully slipped my pack off and leaned it against the table.  I was feeling pretty rough and it was starting to get heavy.  Sure evidence that I was tired.

    Erik opened the door opposite the one we had entered and ushered me into a room that seemed straight out of another century. 

    I had expected a small drab dwelling walled in concrete and messy as any bachelor’s home is likely to be.  Instead, a gorgeous red and gold wall paper covered the walls of a large but cozy living room.  Shining candles topped all surfaces, Persian rugs covered a rich, dark wood floor and the furniture was nothing short of perfect.  I walked slowly into the room and trailed a hand along the sofa.  It was leather, as I had thought, but it was as soft to the touch as the richest velvet. 

    Between the sofa and the huge fireplace, now dark, was a low coffee table with a magnificent chess set on it.  It was granite and crystal and when I picked up one of the pieces and examined it, I could see it was hand carved.  Likely Erik’s work, I thought.  I wish I were better at chess.  I bet he’s a master!  I replaced the chessman carefully, afraid to break such an exquisite little work of art.  When I looked up I saw the bookcase behind an old-fashioned library wingback chair.  You can tell so much about a person by what type of books he reads.  As I read voraciously myself, I was curious to see what these shelves would contain.

    I made my way over and examined the books by the light of the candles.  They were all well worn, but cared for, most antique leather bound titles.  The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, Faust, Homer, Roman and Greek Myths, fairy tales in French, English and Italian.  Hmmmm, Cyrano de Bergerac right next to Beauty and the Beast, both VERY worn.  That explains some things.  I became aware of Erik’s eyes on my back and turned around.  I leaned forward onto the chair, luxuriating in the feel and smell of the fabric.

    Erik seemed to be waiting for my response to his home.  I was more than ready to give it to him.  “It’s lovely here, Erik.  May I see more?”

    He looked very pleased by my response, and I could see him begin to smile but for some reason he stopped. 

    “Of course, my dear.  This way.”  He walked through one of the doors flanking the fireplace and I followed.

    I found myself in a very small but wonderfully modern kitchen.  The lights in here were electric, not candles, but they were soft incandescent bulbs that shone straight down out of recessed lighting giving a warm glow to what would have been otherwise a very stark room. 

    Everything was black in all ranges from matte to super-glossy.  There was a fridge in the corner by the door and a work counter with a black porcelain sink recessed, a stove/oven combo and several kitchen gadgets scattered usefully and neatly across the back of the counter.  The fireplace was in here, too, taking up one corner of the room.  There was a pair of low, black, cushioned seats, shaped vaguely like thrones pulled up near to it.

    “I’m sure you’re not very interested in the kitchen, there’s not much to see.”  Erik was already moving into the next room by way of another door between the fireplace and end of the counter.

    “Actually, I‘m very interested!  I’m a pretty good cook, and I haven’t had a chance to cook over anything but a campfire for ages.  I’d like to cook for us sometime, if that’s okay.  If not, that’s okay; I know some people are very possessive about their kitchens.”

    “You stare down ghosts, work backstage, and you cook!  My, my, child, is there anything you can’t do?”

    I grinned, and immediately winced and it tugged at one of the cuts in my lip.  “Run down stairs without falling on my face, apparently,” I replied, wryly.

    “I am sorry about that.”

    “What do you mean?  I fell down those stairs all on my own, thank you.”

    “Perhaps, but who do you think put the stairs there right at the moment you needed them?  And I did put that bit of rope around your ankle that made you fall the second time.  I didn’t mean to make you trip, just get you tangled so you wouldn’t get away quickly.  I,” he looked away into the other room, “I wanted to talk to you.  You seemed different than everyone else.”

    “Well, I should certainly hope so!”  I sighed and winced again as my ribs reminded me not to do that.  “I probably should be mad but I guess I can’t.  Not when I’m having such an interesting time.”

    “Well, in my own defense, I did not expect you to hurl yourself bodily down those stairs!”  He looked back at me and caught the humor in my eye.

    “Neither did I!” I giggled.  “I think I’ve seen enough of the kitchen.  What other wonderful rooms do you have to show me?”

    “The dining room is through here, Mademoiselle.”  Erik bowed stiffly, like the most stuck up French maitre-d I’d ever seen, and then winked at me with his masked eye and held the door open for me.

    The dining room, like the other three rooms I had already seen, had its own distinct style.  It was done all in rose, color wise and literally.  The walls were a dusky rose color and had stylized roses in a slightly darker color scattered across it.  The ceiling was in the same color and a purple exactly like the color of a black rose carpeted the floor. 

A long, low china cabinet/serving surface made of a deep cherry stained wood ran along one wall.  It was carved all over with rose vines, thorns and blossoms.  The table and chairs matched it.  The table was a long, old-fashioned affair with a chair on each of the four sides.  The one at the head was more ornate and taller, though each chair was an individual masterpiece in its carving.  The arms and seat were padded in velvet in the same color as the carpeting.  On the sidebar and in the middle of the table were large vases, each containing a bouquet of roses in all colors imaginable. 

The fireplace also was in here in the corner by the door, and the only lights to bee seen were dozens of candles.  It must be very cozy in here with that going in winter!

    “How wonderful!” I said, reaching out to caress the petals of one of the roses on the table.  It was white with pink along the edges of the petals.  Erik reached out to the rose, and I instantly pulled my hand away, feeling guilty.  But he merely plucked it from the vase and broke the stem down short with a quick movement.  Then, he offered it to me. 

    “No beautiful woman should be without roses,” he said.  I took the shortened rose from him and tucked it into the base of my braid. But, I noticed he was very careful not to let his fingers touch mine as he handed it to me. 

    He turned and went through the door opposite the one we came in, and true to my expectations, I found myself back in his living room.  Erik was already across the room and standing by the doorway exactly opposite the one to the foyer.  “Down here is all that’s left.”  He stepped into the doorway and leaned against the wall. 

    I peered around the doorway and found myself looking down a long narrow hallway.  It seemed to be decorated in the same style as the living room, but it took me a moment to figure what was different.  The hall was only red, no gold.  There was a door at the end of the hall which was open and I could just see a large wardrobe in a room that looked to be decorated in red and black.  There were two doors on the left hand wall, the one closest to me closed.

    “This will be your room,” Erik said in a quiet voice, tapping on the closed door.  All playfulness had left him for some reason.  “My room is at the end of the hall if you need anything or have any problems.”  He turned as if to go.

    “Wait, what’s that room?” I asked, pointing to the other open door in the hall.

    “That’s the music room.  I’m sure you’re not interested.”

    “I beg to differ!  I love music.  I’d like to see, please!”  I wanted to just start down the hall, but since Erik hadn’t decided to show me this room on his own, I didn’t want to cross any boundaries that might be there, invisible to me.

    He smiled.  “Very well then.”