Chapter 20
Julia treated Paul to a coffee that she paid for surreptitiously with a
Starbucks gift card — a card that had a picture of a light bulb on it. When they eventually crossed the threshold of Segovia, they were met by a very pleasant-looking Spaniard who identified himself as the owner. Much to his delight, Paul responded in Spanish.
Segovia’s interior featured sunny yellow walls on which were painted images from Picasso’s drawing of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. A classical guitarist sat in a corner playing arrangements by Maestro Segovia. And nearby, a series of long tables had been placed in a square in the very center of the room, marking the reserved space for the faculty dinner. Its geometric configuration made it inevitable that all guests would sit facing one another. Julia did not relish the idea of facing Professor Pain, and if she thought she could have escaped without insulting or drawing undue attention from Professor Martin, she would have.
Paul chose seats on one of the far corners of the table; for once again, he was conscious of the class system and knew that his place was not one of honor. While he discussed the menu with the waiter en Español, Julia silently mused about Gabriel’s jealousy and stealthily turned on her cell phone so that she could text him. But there was a text already waiting for her:
Don’t come to dinner. Give Paul an excuse.
Wait for me at my place; the concierge will admit you.
I’ll explain later. Please do as I ask. — G
Julia staring at the screen blankly until Paul nudged her.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Um, it’s probably out of season for sangria, but I’d love some if they have it.”
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“Our sangria is excellent,” said the waiter before leaving to place their drink orders with the bartender.
Julia gave Paul an apologetic look. “I have a text from Owen. I’m sorry to be rude.”
“No worries,” said Paul, busying himself with the menu while she quickly prepared a reply:
My phone was off. It’s too late, I’m already here.
You have nothing to be jealous of — I’m going home with you.
You’ll have me in your bed until morning. — J
She deposited her phone in her messenger bag, praying silently that Gabriel would not be too cross. Oh gods of all over-protective and jealous (fill in appropriate description of Gabriel and our relationship here), please don’t let him make a scene. Not in front of his colleagues.
Unfortunately for Julia and whoever was texting her, the messenger bag muffled the sound of an incoming message, which arrived shortly thereafter.
Within twenty minutes, the rest of the guests filtered in. Professor Leaming and some of the other professors were seated beside Paul. On the far end, Gabriel was sandwiched in between Professors Martin and Singer.
At the sight of Gabriel and his seatmates, Julia began sipping her sangria a little too eagerly, hoping she’d be able to get a refill to alleviate the tension that crackled in the air. The sangria was delicious and packed with lots of citrus fruit, which pleased her greatly.
“Are you cold?” Paul gestured to the purple pashmina that was wound around her neck in a very chic manner.
“Not really.” She slowly removed the scarf and placed it on top of her bag.
Paul politely averted his eyes as the delicate pale flesh of Julia’s neck and décolletage became visible. She was beautiful, and her body, although small, was blessed with generous breasts that provided her with very handsome, proportional cleavage.
As soon as she removed her pashmina, a pair of jealous blue eyes darted across the table, hungrily taking in her newly exposed skin before making a hasty retreat.
“Paul, what’s up with Professor Singer?” Julia kept her voice low behind her wine glass.
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He saw Singer sitting far too close to Emerson, and he watched as Emerson subtly moved his chair away from her. She moved her chair closer in response. But Julia missed the exchange.
“She and Emerson had an affair. Looks like they’re back at it.” Paul snickered. “I guess we discovered the reason for his good mood this week.”
Julia’s eyes widened, and she felt ill.
“So she was his — girlfriend?”
Paul moved his chair closer so that Professor Leaming couldn’t overhear their conversation. Of course, the fact that a flamenco dancer had appeared and was now dancing to the loud strains of a classical guitar made his task much easier.
“Just a minute.” He passed a tapas plate to Julia. “Try these. It’s chorizo and Manchego cheese, and crostini with Cabrales, a Spanish blue cheese.”
She helped herself, nibbling on the appetizers while she waited anxiously for an answer.
“Singer doesn’t have boyfriends. She’s into pain. And control. You know…” His voice trailed off suggestively.
Julia blinked in disbelief.
“Did you ever see Pulp Fiction?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t like Quentin Tarantino. He’s too dark.”
“Then let’s just say that she likes to get medieval…in her personal life…on people’s asses. And she isn’t shy about letting people know it. She researches that stuff and posts her publications online.”
Julia swallowed a piece of chorizo quickly. “So that means that he — ”
“Is a sick fucker like she is. But he’s a hell of a researcher, as you saw this afternoon. I try not to think about what goes on in his personal life. I think that lovers should be gentle with one another. Not that love enters into what they’re doing.”
Paul surveyed the room cautiously before whispering in Julia’s ear. “I think if you care enough about someone to have sex with them, then you should care enough to respect them and not treat them as an object. You should be responsible and careful and never, ever hurt them. Even if they’re fucked up enough to beg you to.”
Julia shivered and took a very large sip of her second sangria.
He leaned back in his chair. “I can’t relate to someone wanting pain at all, let alone during sex. Sex is supposed to be about pleasure and affection.
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Do you think Dante would have tied Beatrice up and worked her over with a whip?”
Julia hesitated, then shook her head.
“When I was an undergraduate at St. Mike’s, I took a course on the Philosophy of Sex, Love, and Friendship. We talked about consent. You know how everyone says that as long as an activity is between two consenting adults, it’s okay? Our professor asked us if we thought a human being could consent to an injustice, such as selling himself into slavery.”
“No one wants to be a slave.”
“They do in Professor Pain’s world. Some people sell themselves into sexual slavery — voluntarily. So is slavery okay if the slave wants to be a slave? Can someone who is in their right mind consent to slavery, or are they simply irrational because they want to be a slave?”
Julia began to feel more than slightly uncomfortable having this particular conversation so close to Professor Pain and Gabriel, so she tipped back the last of her sangria and swiftly changed the subject.
“What’s your dissertation topic, Paul? I don’t think you ever told me.”
He chuckled. “Pleasure and the beatific vision. It’s a comparison between the deadly sins associated with pleasure — lust, gluttony, and greed — and the pleasure of the beatific vision in Paradise. Emerson is a great dissertation advisor, but like I said, I stay out of his personal life. Even though he’d probably be a hell of a case study for the Second Circle of the Inferno.”
“I can’t understand why everyone just doesn’t want kindness,” Julia mused, more to herself than to Paul. “Life is painful enough.”
“That’s the world we live in.” He offered her a sincere smile. “I hope your boyfriend is kind to you. Just be grateful you found someone who isn’t into the sick shit.”
At that moment they were interrupted by the waiter, so Paul didn’t see the color drain out of Julia’s cheeks and lips. She involuntarily peeked over at Gabriel and saw Singer whispering in his ear again.
Gabriel’s eyes remained stubbornly fixed on the table in front of him, teeth clenched and jaw set. He picked up his glass of wine, sipped it, and set it down again, all while Julia stared.
Look at me, Gabriel. Roll your eyes, rub your face, scowl…something, anything. Show me this is all a misunderstanding. Show me Paul is wrong.
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“Julia?” Paul’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Do you want to share the paella Valenciana with me? They only make it for two. It’s very good.” Now he noticed Julia’s paleness and the fact that her fingers were trembling. “Hey, are you okay?”
She rubbed her forehead. “Yeah. The paella is fine.”
“Maybe you should go easy on the sangria. You haven’t had much to eat, and you’re starting to look sick.”
He was worried that he’d shocked her with his salacious revelations, revelations that he had no right to offer to a fellow graduate student. So he changed the subject by telling her stories of his last trip to Spain and his fascination with Gaudi’s architecture. She nodded as if on cue and even asked questions from time to time, but her mind was far away, trying to sort out who exactly she’d shared a bed with a week ago — the fallen angel who still had goodness in him or someone much, much darker.
She noticed that Professor Singer’s left hand was suddenly hidden from view. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Gabriel’s eyes. But that didn’t stop Professor Singer from noticing Julia. Their eyes met just as Gabriel appeared to push her hand away under the table. Embarrassed, Julia turned to Paul, while Singer wore a look of inquisitive amusement that slowly morphed into an unblinking, fascinated stare.
Eager to escape the sordid spectacle she thought she’d witnessed, Julia made a feeble excuse to Paul about not feeling well and left the table. She climbed the staircase to the second floor and quickly located the restroom. Examining her features in the mirror, she tried to process what he’d told her. Her thoughts were a sordid jumble of words and dark images, while her heart bled.
Why would anyone want to be hit? Gabriel and Ann…pain…control…Ann’s fingers in Gabriel’s lap…Ann hitting Gabriel…Gabriel hitting Ann.
Julia found herself leaning against the counter as she fought a wave of nausea. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, eyes closed, before someone pushed through the door.
“Hello there.” Professor Singer smiled widely, showing rows of shiny teeth.
Julia marveled at how the light glinting off the professor’s glasses tricked the brain into thinking that her green eyes were glowing red.
“I’m Professor Singer. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand, and Julia took it reluctantly, mumbling a response.
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The professor’s hand was cold but far from lifeless. She gripped Julia firmly and for far too long. When she released her, she trailed a finger down Julia’s lifeline as if she were intentionally measuring her. The act made Julia shiver.
Ann cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. “I thought you were expecting me. Do I make you nervous?”
Julia frowned. “No, I came up here to wash my hands. I think I’m getting the flu.”
“That’s a pity.” The professor smiled more widely and took a step closer. “You seem healthy enough. You have lovely skin.”
“Thank you.” Julia’s eyes darted toward the door, eager to make an escape.
“Not at all. Not at all. Are you wearing lipstick, or is that the natural shade of your lips?” She leaned forward at the waist and peered far too closely at Julia’s ripe, open mouth, their faces mere inches from one another.
Julia took a step backward. “Um, it’s my natural color.”
Ann took another step forward. “Extraordinary. You know, of course, that the natural shade of the lip is repeated across a woman’s body in more intimate places. Your color is so pleasing on your mouth. I’m sure it’s breathtaking elsewhere.”
Julia’s jaw dropped open.
“Look at yourself in the mirror. How could I not have noticed you downstairs? And fortunately, you noticed me too.” Ann took another step forward and dropped her voice. “Do you like to watch?” she whispered. “Did you like watching what I was doing to him under the table?”
Julia reddened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Flesh changes color, you know, in response to increased blood flow. Like now.” She smiled, exposing her teeth. “I’ve embarrassed or aroused you, so your cheeks have grown flushed and so have your lips. But you’re flushed elsewhere, aren’t you?” She dropped her voice still further. “And lower down, I’m sure you’re begging to be stroked and teased…” She licked her lips and smiled. “My little pink pearl. I think you want me to tease you. You’d make such a pretty pet.”
Julia stared defiantly. “I’m not interested in being anyone’s pet.”
That made Professor Singer back up. Julia’s sudden show of spirit was wholly unexpected.
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“I’m a human being, not an animal. Leave me alone.” Julia did not know where in holy hell she found the nerve to dispute with Professor Singer, but she found it.
Ann laughed. “Human beings are animals, my dear. We share the same physiology, the same reactions to stimuli, the same needs for food, drink, and sex. Some of us are just more intelligent.”
Julia glared down at her. “I’m intelligent enough to know what an animal is. And I am not interested in being fucked like one. Excuse me.”
She sidestepped the professor quickly, heading for the door.
“If you change your mind, come and find me,” Ann purred.
“Not a chance in hell,” spat Julia. She fled, inhaling and exhaling very quickly as she began to jog down the hall.
A quick pair of footsteps followed close behind. She let out a shriek as someone pulled her into a darkened room, closing and locking the door behind them. She pushed against a hard chest roughly before someone grabbed her wrists.
“Julianne.”
It was too dark to see his face, but she recognized his voice and the strange sensation that hummed up and down her arms in reaction to his touch. She stopped struggling.
“Please turn on the light. I — I’m claustrophobic.” Her voice sounded to Gabriel’s ears like that of a frightened child.
He released her and pulled out his iPhone, holding it up like a lamp.
“Is this better?” Gabriel suppressed the urge to ask what light had to do with claustrophobia as he wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Julianne?”
She took a moment to examine their surroundings and realized that they were in a broom closet.
“Julianne?” he repeated, trying to capture her attention. “I saw Ann follow you. Are you all right?”
“No.”
“What did she do?”
“She said I’d make a good pet,” Julia whispered, her eyes downcast.
Gabriel scowled darkly. “Did she touch you?”
She closed her eyes and wiped a few beads of sweat from her forehead. “Just my hand.”
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He quickly dimmed the light on his phone so that they were only partially illuminated, for he was worried that Ann might see the light under the door.
“This is what I was afraid might happen. Why didn’t you do as I asked?”
“I told you, I didn’t get your text until it was too late. I didn’t expect to be hit on at a faculty dinner, by a professor who wasn’t you.”
Gabriel growled. “She was watching you across the table and was probably excited by your shyness, not to mention your beauty. Having you in the same room as her is the equivalent of dangling a lamb in front of a wolf.” He shook his head and cursed. “I tried to keep you away from her.”
Julia searched his eyes. “You weren’t keeping me away because you’re jealous?”
Gabriel let out a sharp exhalation. “Of course I’m jealous. Jealousy is a new emotion for me, Julianne. I’m not practiced in the art of dealing with it. But I would have begged Paul to take you to dinner somewhere, anywhere, just to keep you away from her.”
“Were you involved with Professor Singer?”
His expression darkened, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. “This is not the place to discuss that.”
Julia shook her head as her nausea returned. She’d hoped that Paul was mistaken. But Gabriel’s reaction told her otherwise.
“How could you?”
“You’re shaking. Are you going to be sick?”
“Why won’t you answer my question?”
Gabriel spoke through his teeth. “Julianne, your comfort and well-being is my only concern at this moment. I won’t answer any questions until I am satisfied that you are all right. Although if you throw up, I promise to hold your hair.” He smirked slightly.
“I’m not going to throw up,” she murmured. “Unfortunately, she’s not the first woman to come on to me. I’m more upset about the fact that you’re hiding something.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows furrowed at her admission, but he quickly pushed his concern aside. “Julianne, trust me when I tell you that you do not want to know more about her. Your mind should remain unpolluted.”
“But it’s okay for her to molest you under the table? That’s how she noticed me, Gabriel. She caught me staring.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, and Julia saw sparks in his eyes.
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“She’s goading me. And for obvious reasons, I can’t react and cause a scene. I was hoping she’d ignore you and focus all of her twisted attention on me. Clearly, I was wrong.”
“Why did I have to find out from Paul that you were involved with her?”
“Paul said that?”
She nodded.
Gabriel swore an oath and began rubbing his eyes forcefully, as if he were blotting out a repulsive image. “I didn’t expect her to attend my lecture. We don’t share the same values or research interests. Today is the first time I’ve seen her in months. She’s part of my past — a past I will not repeat. Not if I live forever.”
“Paul said she likes pain. Were you — violent together?”
He clenched his fists at his sides, the tendons in his arms humming in contraction.
“Yes. I’d like to tell you that she was the wicked temptress and I was lured into an entanglement with her, but that isn’t what happened. Nevertheless, I am not going to explain the dark contours of her world to you. Not even a single thought of yours belongs there. But I’ll tell you that during one of my — encounters with her, she did something that caused me to lose my temper. And I gave her a taste of her own medicine. That act alone terminated our interactions, and I was immediately flung out of her house.”
“She hit you?”
“More than once,” rasped Gabriel grimly. “That was the point.”
“Gabriel.” His name came out as something akin to a sob, and his heart was instantly pierced. “How could you? How could you let her touch you, let alone hurt you?”
He encircled her with his arms and squeezed her tightly. “Julianne, you do not want to hear this. Please forget what Paul said. Forget all about her.”
“I can’t. I can’t forget what you said in your lecture this afternoon. Your description of the act of making love was really beautiful, but that’s not what you want. Or maybe you think it’s impossible for lovers to be like that.”
Gabriel’s eyes bored into hers. “Of course it’s what I want. Of course I think it’s possible. I’ve just never experienced it.” He cleared his throat. “You aren’t the only virgin in this relationship.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Then why would you want someone to hurt you? Haven’t you been hurt enough?”
His face wore a pained expression.
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“Gabriel, your life is like a series of locked, secret rooms. I have no idea what lurks behind those doors. And you won’t tell me. I have to find out about your ex-girlfriend from your research assistant!”
“She was never my girlfriend. And I asked you about Simon, and you wouldn’t tell me anything. So far we are even.”
Julia winced.
“I told you about my mother.”
Gabriel sighed. “Yes, you did. And hearing what happened to you in St. Louis hurt me far more than I can say. More than Ann and her parlor tricks.” He shook his head. “You’re right. I should have told you about her.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and Julia heard his fists slide into the pockets of his trousers. “I thought that when I told you, you’d be so repulsed that you’d run. You’d realize I truly am a devil.”
“You’re no devil. You’re a fallen angel who still has goodness left in him. A fallen angel who aspires to make love with a woman and treat her with tenderness,” whispered Julia. She closed her eyes. “Hearing about Professor Singer from you would have been far better than finding out like this. Or having it flaunted in front of me when you wouldn’t even look in my direction.”
“I wear tremendous shame, Julianne, which is something you know precious little about.”
“You aren’t the only sinner in this closet, Gabriel.” She opened her eyes and inhaled slowly. “Which is why I can’t hold your past sins against you. Do you still want her?”
“Of course not!” His demeanor immediately shifted to outrage. “We did not have a relationship, Julianne — we had a couple of encounters. It was over a year ago, and I haven’t been involved with her since.” He sighed deeply. “If you insist, I’ll tell you more, but I can’t do it now. Can you give me until after dinner to explain? Please?”
She chewed her lip pensively.
Gabriel gently pressed his mouth to hers, tugging her lip free with his own and slowly releasing her. “Please don’t hurt yourself. It upsets me.”
“I could say the same to you.”
His shoulders slumped forward, and he groaned a little.
“I will give you until after dinner only if you promise not to let her touch you.”
“Gladly.”
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Julia exhaled deeply. “Thank you.”
“So you’ll stay?”
She shook her head. “I can’t sit across the table from her and eat paella. She makes me sick.”
“I’ll take you home.”
“You’re the guest of honor. You can’t leave.”
Gabriel ran his fingers through his hair as he thought for a moment. “At least let me call a taxi for you. I’ll try to extricate myself as soon as possible. My concierge will let you in.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a money clip.
She waved his hand aside. “I have my own money.”
“Let me give you my credit card so you can order dinner and have it delivered.”
“I can’t eat.”
He sighed and rubbed at his eyes.
She turned to leave, but Gabriel reached out and grasped her elbow.
“Wait.” He stared down at her, his voice pleading. “When I saw you walk into the lecture hall, my heart leaped. My heart leaped, Julianne. You’ve never looked more beautiful. You looked…happy.” He swallowed noisily. “I’m sorry I killed that look. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. Do you think…you might be able to forgive me?”
“You didn’t sin against me, Gabriel.” Her eyes slowly began to fill with tears. “I’m trying to figure out how deeply rooted your taste for pain is and what that means for us. I feel like I have no idea who you really are, and that hurts.”
With that, she exited the closet.
P
The Fates favored Julia on her return to the dinner party. While she fetched her things and made her excuses, Ann was still ensconced in the ladies’ room. A second female professor was missing from the table.
One look at Julia’s pale face and teary eyes convinced Paul not to try to persuade her to stay. And when she offered an obviously fictitious explanation about having a migraine, he didn’t question her until they were standing outside the restaurant.
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“Singer followed you to the bathroom, didn’t she?”
Julia chewed on her lip and nodded.
He shook his head. “She’s a predator. A dangerous predator. I should have warned you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. But I have to go home. I’m sorry about the paella.”
“Fuck the paella. All I care about is you.” He winced slightly. “If you want to file a complaint against her, I’ll take you to the judicial committee’s office on Monday.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s the office that handles allegations of misconduct against faculty and staff. If you want to tell the judicial committee what happened with Singer, I’ll help you.”
Julia shook her head. “There weren’t any witnesses. It would be my word against hers. I’m going to try to forget what happened, unless she approaches me again.”
“It’s your decision, but you should know that I filed a complaint against her last year. Even though it was her word against mine, my harassment complaint is still in her file. She stays away from me now. It was the best decision I ever made.”
Her smiled faded. “I don’t think I want to do that, but I’ll consider it. And I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Don’t worry about me. Have a nice weekend and try to forget about this. If you need to talk, you’ve got my number. I’ll see you next week.” Paul offered an encouraging look and waved as the taxi pulled away.
While Virgil’s words rang in Julia’s ears, she checked her cell phone. She found a text message that had been sent shortly before the professors arrived at Segovia:
Stay away from Prof. Singer.
Stay close to Paul — she despises him.
Be careful. — G
Too little, too late, Julia thought ruefully.
When she entered Gabriel’s apartment she quickly turned on the fireplace, hoping to dispel the darkness that she felt creeping around her heart. But it didn’t seem to help. Truly, all she wanted to do was go home and pull the bed covers over her head. But she knew better than to hide from reality now.
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She didn’t want to snoop, but she found herself in Gabriel’s bedroom, kneeling on the floor of his closet. She was searching for his black-and-white photographs, wondering if Professor Singer was in one of them. She certainly had the correct hair color. But the pictures were gone. She examined every inch of his closet and looked around his bedroom and even under his bed. The photos had been removed.
Hanging on the wall in their stead were six pieces of art, some abstract, some renaissance, one by Tom Thomson, but all beautiful and strangely…peaceful. Gabriel had redecorated.
She stood in front of his dresser admiring the reproduction of Botticelli’s Primavera that was displayed over it when her gaze alighted on an eight by ten picture in a dark frame. It was of a man and a woman dancing. The man was tall, attractive, elegant, and commanding, and he was looking down at the woman with an intense, almost heated gaze.
The woman was petite, blushing and staring at the buttons of his shirt. She was wearing a purple dress that was so vibrant it seemed to diminish all the other colors in the picture.
How did he get a photo of the two of us dancing at Lobby?
Rachel, she thought.
Julia quickly placed the picture back and exited the bedroom, being sure to leave everything exactly as she found it.
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