No Return: A Contemporary Phantom Tale Read Online Free PDF

sorts of physical limitations if enough money were involved. Apparently the request that the act take place in total darkness and that there be no touching of his face was routine, even tame compared to what some of these women had experienced. But his first—a lovely redhead named, appropriately, Amber—had introduced him to lovemaking skillfully and even tenderly, and what could have been a tawdry experience became instead a night of revelations. She was with him that night, and several more over the next few months, until she told him—with possibly a trace of regret in her tone—that she was about to take the bar and was going to, as she put it, “quit the business.”
    Even now the recollection made him shake his head. Only in Los Angeles, he thought, could a sharp-thinking redhead with amazing legs put herself through law school as a $1,000-a-night call girl. Amber had been replaced by Sheila, and Kelli after her, until he could no longer remember all their names. Of course he had been careful to be moderate—only seeing them once or twice a month—but even so the parade of faces and bodies became blurred as the years passed.  
    Then, only a short time later, he suffered a shock in his carefully managed universe. Although he was necessarily cut off from any form of public entertainments, he still liked to amuse himself by reading the arts sections of the national magazines, if only to give him ideas of what he could use to expand his massive library of recorded music. And what he saw there, along with one photo, was a review of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s latest musical to cross the Atlantic, The Phantom of the Opera .
    He was familiar with the story, of course, and had caught the original silent version with Lon Chaney on late-night television more than once, along with the less distinguished remake starring Claude Rains. He had been moved by the story—considering his situation, it would have been odd if he hadn’t—but he had never particularly identified with the character. Disfigured he might be, but at least he was able to hide from the world in the mansion his grandfather had built, not in the damp cellars of an opera house.  
    The photo in the magazine, however, showed a very different image from Lon Chaney’s gruesome, if remarkable, death’s head makeup, or the smooth curved mask that had covered almost all of Claude Rains’ face. This Phantom wore a mask that covered only half his face.
    Only half his face . He could remember the shock of that moment as if it had happened just minutes before instead of more than two decades ago. With a shaking hand he had reached up, fingers spread, to encompass the ruined right side of his face. Of course. How perfect, how elegant. Up until then he had worn an altered surgical mask that covered him from cheekbone to jaw on that one side—a mask that still exposed the scarring on his forehead and the mess that was his right eye socket—but as he never went out anyway and the only person to ever see him was Ennis, the butler, its shortcomings were overlooked in favor of the comfort factor. But this mask—
    A few carefully placed phone calls to New York resulted in a box of gleaming masks arriving on his doorstep only days later. Of course he was unable to have a life cast taken of his face to ensure the most perfect fit, but he had compromised by requesting a copy of all of the masks made for the New York production, including Michael Crawford’s and all of the understudies’ masks. The Crawford mask didn’t fit, unfortunately—it was a touch too broad—but one of the others suited him well enough, with a little extra padding on the sensitive brow and upper cheekbone areas.
    That was the beginning of an obsession that soon consumed him, devoured almost every waking moment for more than five years and still had its grip on him even today. One cast CD was played into scratched ruin, then another. Efforts were made to procure recordings from around the world,