“Dante places Paolo and Francesca in the Circle of the Lustful. Surprisingly, the story of their downfall is linked with the courtly love tradition. At the time of their lustful indulgence, they were engaged in reading about the adultery between Lancelot and Queen Guinevere.” Gabriel grinned mischievously. “Perhaps this was the medieval equivalent of porn-fuelled foreplay.”
Polite laughter echoed across the lecture hall.
“In the case of Paolo and Francesca, passion overtook reason, which should have told them that since one of them was joined to another, they should keep their hands to themselves.”
Gabriel glared meaningfully at Paul. But Paul thought the glare was directed elsewhere, possibly to Julia or one of the women sitting in front of him, so he did nothing. At Paul’s lack of reaction, Gabriel’s blue eyes grew green like a dragon’s. All that was lacking from his display was the breathing of fire.
“Perhaps this is similar to the proprietary relationship that exists between a couple when they are courting. If someone else were to start indulging in some of the special delights that should be reserved for the courting couple, no doubt anger and jealousy would result.” Gabriel’s voice grew sharp.
Julia flinched and shifted slightly to her left, away from Paul.
“But the fact that Dante sees in Lancelot and Guinevere and Paolo and Francesca a corruption of the courtly love tradition shows that he recognizes the very real dangers facing his attachment to Beatrice. If Dante’s passion were to overtake his reason, it would ruin their lives and expose them to scandal. So the fate of Paolo and Francesca is a very personal warning to Dante for him to keep his affection for Beatrice chaste. Which is no easy task given her great beauty and allurements, and the depth and degree of his desire for her.”
Julia blushed.
“Let me be clear, despite the fact that they were separated from one another for years, Dante aches for her. He wants her, and he wants all of her. His chastity is made all the more virtuous because of the strength and desperation of his desire.”
While he paused, the serpentine eyes followed Gabriel’s gaze back to Julia before making eye contact with him. He glared in response and continued.
“In Dante’s philosophy, lust is a misplaced love, but a kind of love nonetheless. For this reason, it is the least evil of the seven deadly sins, and that is why Dante locates the Circle of the Lustful just underneath Limbo. Lust deals with the greatest of earthly pleasures…”
Gabriel’s eyes darted in Julia’s direction, and she stared back at him, transfixed.
“Sex is properly understood to be not only physical, but spiritual—an ecstatic union of two bodies and two souls, meant to mimic the joy and ecstasy of union with the Divine in Paradise. Two bodies joined together in pleasure. Two souls joined through the connection between two bodies and the whole-hearted, enthusiastic, selfless giving of the entire self.”
Julia tried not to squirm in her seat as she recalled how she felt the other night when Gabriel’s mouth sucked her fingers, one by one, cleaning them of chocolate cake. The room began to feel more than a little warm, and several people shifted in their seats.
“It’s pedantic perhaps to point out that if one holds back and doesn’t give one’s entire self during intercourse, orgasm will be eluded. The result is tension, frustration, and an unhappy partner. The moment of orgasm is a foretaste of absolute transcendence and wholehearted, rapturous pleasure. The kind of pleasure in which all of one’s deepest urges and longings are wholly and heart-stoppingly satisfied.”
Gabriel smiled to himself as Julia crossed and uncrossed her legs, reveling in her reaction as he paused to take a sip of water.
“The idea of shared orgasm, one partner’s ecstasy tripping the other’s, highlights the shared intimacy of physical and spiritual union. Panting, twisting, touching, yearning, giving, and finally and most gloriously, coming.”
Gabriel paused as he struggled not to gaze at Julia, and thus draw attention to her flushed and downcast face. He cleared his throat and smirked slightly. “Does anyone feel faint?”
Cheerful but reserved laughter echoed around the hall, and Christa lifted her hair away from her neck and fanned herself with a copy of Gabriel’s book.
“I believe my words have illustrated Dante’s thesis, namely, that lust is powerful enough to distract the mind, which is the faculty of reason, and prompt it to focus on earthly, carnal concerns rather than rising above to contemplate the heavenly concerns, namely, God. No doubt some of you would rather be rushing home to your lover’s embrace than remaining here to listen to the rest of my dry lecture.”
He chuckled, absolutely ignoring the professor in the front row who exposed a small but obscene object from her purse in order to taunt him.
“In contrast to lust, which is a mortal sin, is love. Aquinas argues that a lover is related to his beloved as if his beloved were a part of himself.”
At this, Gabriel’s expression softened and a sweet smile spread across his face.
“The joys and beauty of sexual intimacy, expressed in the unifying act of sexual intercourse, are the natural outgrowth of love. In this case, as should be clear, sex is not identical with lust. Hence the modern distinction made in contemporary parlance between, forgive my vulgarity, fucking and making love. But sex is not identical with love either, as the courtly love tradition demonstrates. One can love one’s friend chastely and passionately without engaging in sexual intercourse with her.
“In Dante’s Paradiso, lust is transformed into charity, the truest, purest manifestation of love. In Paradise, the soul is free from longing, for all her desires are satisfied, and she is filled with joy. She no longer has guilt over her previous sins but enjoys absolute freedom and fulfillment. However, time prevents me from giving a more complete discussion of Paradise.
“In Dante’s Divine Comedy, we find the dichotomy of lust and charity and a powerful manifestation of the chastity of courtly love, as typified by the relationship between Dante and Beatrice. This ideal of courtly love is perhaps best expressed in the words of Beatrice, herself, ‘Apparuit iam beatitudo vestra.’ That is, ‘Now your blessedness appears.’ Truer words were never spoken. Thank you.”
The lecture hall erupted in polite applause and low murmurings of approval. The Professor then began to field questions from the audience. In typical fashion, full time faculty members were the first to speak, while graduate students waited patiently for their turn.
(For Academia, like Europe in the Middle Ages, was organized under a class system.)
Julia sat very still, trying to absorb what she thought she’d heard during Gabriel’s lecture. She was repeating some of his more profound statements to herself when Paul leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“Watch this. Emerson is going to ignore Christa.”
From their vantage point, they couldn’t see Christa’s cleavage (which was a mercy). She was still leaning forward, now with her hand in the air, trying to gain The Professor’s attention. He seemed to pass over her deliberately, pointing at other questioners and offering reasoned responses. Eventually, Professor Martin stood up in order to indicate that question period had come to an end. Only then did Christa lower her hand, a scowl darkening her fine features.
Another round of applause was given and received, and Gabriel stepped off the platform. He was greeted immediately by an average-sized brunette, who looked like she was a professor in her mid to late thirties. The two shook hands.
Paul snorted. “Did you see that? He wasn’t going to allow Christa to ask a question in an open forum. He’s worried she’ll stand up and throw her bra at him, or hold up an ‘I heart Emerson’ poster.”
Julia giggled and watched as the brunette professor chatted with Gabriel before stepping aside to speak to someone else.
“I was surprised no one corrected Emerson on his mistake.” Paul scratched at his sideburns thoughtfully.
“What mistake?”
“He attributed ‘Apparuit iam beat
itudo vestra’ to Beatrice, but we all know it was Dante. He says those words in the second section of La Vita Nuova, when he meets Beatrice for the first time.”
Julia knew this, of course, but would never have commented on it. So she remained silent.
Paul shrugged. “I’m sure it was a slip of the tongue. He can quote those texts from memory in Italian and English. I just thought it was funny that Professor Perfect made a very public mistake and no one corrected him.” He chuckled to himself. “Maybe that was why Christa put up her hand.”
Julia nodded. She knew that Gabriel’s error had been intentional. But she would tell no one, especially not Paul.
His eyes passed over her admiringly. “You look pretty today. You always look pretty, but today you’re just—glowing.” His face morphed into a serious expression. “I hope I’m not stepping on your boyfriend’s toes by telling you that. What was his name again?”
“Owen.”
“Well, I can see it in your eyes. You’re obviously glad to be back together with him. After weeks of seeing you sad, I’m happy that you’re happy.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“So why the dress?”
She peered around the room. “I didn’t know if people dressed up for these occasions. I knew all the professors would be here, and I wanted to look nice.”
Paul laughed. “Most academic women don’t care about fashion.” He shook his head and gently touched her hand. “I hope your ex treats you right this time. Or I’ll have to go to Philadelphia and kick his ass.”
At this point, Julia was only half-listening as she saw a petite blond professor greet Gabriel with a kiss on both cheeks.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise.
And you gave me a hard time about Paul, Professor. I thought we weren’t sharing…
Paul muttered something under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Well, the lecture was great. You can see why I came here to work with him.” Paul glanced meaningfully at Gabriel. “But look at them.”
As if on cue, the blond threw her head back and laughed uproariously, while Emerson gave her a tight smile. She was less than five feet tall, with flaxen hair that was pulled back tightly into a severe-looking bun. She wore Armani glasses that were both squarish and red and an expensive-looking black suit highlighted by a tight pencil skirt that barely grazed her knees. Julia noted also that the woman wore black pumps that were very high and fishnet stockings that would have netted only the tiniest of fish.
The woman was beautiful, but she seemed rather out of place amongst all of the other professional academics. And there was something about her presence that was decidedly aggressive.
“That’s Professor Singer.” Paul grimaced.
“The blonde?”
“Yes. The dark-haired woman to her left is Professor Leaming. She’s great. You need to meet her. But stay away from Singer. She’s a dragon lady.”
Julia’s stomach flipped as she watched Professor Singer grip Gabriel’s forearm in a far too familiar fashion, digging her talons into his suit jacket while she stood on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear. His expression remained utterly impassive.
“Why do you say that?” Julia asked.
“Have you seen her website?”
“No.”
“Consider yourself lucky. You’d be shocked by what she’s in to. They call her Professor Pain.”
Julia reluctantly dragged her eyes away from the sickening display that was The Professors Pain and Emerson show and began wringing her hands. She wondered if Professor Pain’s first name was Paulina.
Disgusted by the display, she grabbed her coat and stood up. “I guess it’s time for us to leave.”
“I’ll walk you home.” Paul chivalrously helped her with her coat.
They left their seats and were just about to walk toward the exit when Professor Martin, the chair of Italian Studies, caught Paul’s eye, motioning him to come over.
“I’ll just be a minute. Wait for me.”
Julia sat back down, fingering her coat buttons as a distraction.
Gabriel wasn’t looking at her at all, and from his body language she suspected that he was avoiding her. Paul had a brief exchange with the chair before turning around and pointing in her direction. The chair nodded and patted Paul on the back. By the time he returned, Paul was beaming.
“Well, you’ll never guess what that was about.”
Julia lifted her eyebrows.
“We’ve been invited to the faculty dinner in honor of Emerson’s lecture.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Apparently, there’s money in the budget to buy dinner for a couple of graduate students, and the chair decided to invite me. When I told him I was here with you, he invited you to come as my guest.” He winked at her. “Poor Christa isn’t on the list. Looks like this is your lucky day.”
At that moment, Gabriel’s eyes met Julia’s from behind Paul’s back. Gabriel was upset, angry even, and he was shaking his head at her. His eyes flicked over to Paul and back to her, and again he shook his head.
Julia pursed her lips stubbornly. How can Gabriel be jealous of Paul when Professor Pain is all over him? Talk about a double standard.
“We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.” Paul cleared his throat. “I know Emerson has been a jerk to you. You probably don’t want to celebrate his latest success over paella.”
“It would be rude to turn down the invitation when it came from the chair,” Julia said slowly.
“You’re probably right. I promise we’ll have fun. We’re going to Segovia, which is a great restaurant. But dinner isn’t until seven. Would you like to go to Starbucks? Or somewhere else?” Paul extended his hand to help her to her feet.
“Starbucks is fine.”
Within a few minutes of exiting the building, Julia finally found the courage to ask a question that had been troubling her.
“Do you know Professor Singer well?” She tried to sound casual.
“No. I stay away from her.” Paul cursed more than once. “I wish I could unsee the e-mails she sent to Emerson. They’re burned into my brain.”
“What’s her first name?”
“Ann.”
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.”
“Our sang
ria 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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