Sylvain Reynard - Gabriel’s Inferno

Is that what he would want? Is that what he would demand? Tearing her clothes off, shoving her onto her stomach, pushing into her from behind…not even looking into her eyes as he took her virginity, no kisses, no love-making, nothing but aggression and domination. Julia only knew of his sexual predilections from the photographs, and the fact that he’d described what he did to women as fucking.

Her breathing began to speed as panic washed over her. She heard an old voice in her head taunting her about fucking like animals.

Gabriel returned wearing a hunter green t-shirt and a pair of Black Watch tartan pajama bottoms. He deposited a glass of water on the nightstand next to one of the candles, pulled the covers back, and lifted Julia so that he could place her under the sheets.

She flinched, but he pretended not to notice and reclined on his side by her legs, drawing them close to his chest. He undid her sneakers and pulled off her socks,tenderly caressing the soles of her feet and her toes, making her moan in spite of herself.

“Relax, Julianne. Don’t fight it. This is supposed to be nice.” He murmured from time to time, more to himself than to her, and at one point Julia thought she heard him say la sua immagine. But she couldn’t be sure.

His voice was low, like a whisper or a prayer.

She silently wondered if he was referring to her or to Beatrice, and which debauched gods he was addressing. Just as silently, she begged them to aid in her escape, instead.

Please don’t let him consume me.

“I seem to recall that you liked my Magdalen College boxer shorts.

They’re in the top drawer, if you’d care to borrow them. They don’t fit me anymore.”

Julia sniffled. “Your pictures…the ones you used to have on the wall.

Is that what you want?”

Gabriel’s hands stilled against her feet. “What are you talking about?”

Her eyes darted nervously to where the sixth photograph had hung and back to Gabriel. His face morphed rapidly from surprise into horror.

“Of course not! What do you take me for?” His voice was a tragic, offended whisper. “You’re here, you’re tired. I don’t want to run the risk of losing you again before we talk.” He smiled minutely. “I want to make you a breakfast tray with parsley and orange sections, not take your virginity.

And certainly not like that.” He seemed disgusted. “I’m not a barbarian.”

When she didn’t respond, he slipped her feet under the covers. He tucked her in as if she were a child and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face.

“Let’s try to forgive one another, shall we? We’ve both been hurt, and we’ve both wasted so many years. Let’s not waste any more time jumping to conclusions.”

He stood up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It’s quite possible you won’t want me tomorrow, anyway,” he muttered. Then he stood to attention and gave her a small smile. “Call me if you need anything.”

While Julia tossed and turned alone, she heard Gabriel playing the stereo, softly but fluidly. She didn’t recognize the music, but with the sounds of arpeggios imitating waterfalls she eventually fell into a light sleep.

Later that night, Gabriel was lying on his back in the guest bed, his arm crooked over his face. He was hovering in between wakefulness and dreaming when he felt a slight shift at his left. A warm body moved toward him, gently tugging at the covers.

The body crawled in beside him and molded itself to his side. He felt long, soft curls whisper across his now naked chest. He heard a small, contented sigh as an arm slid across the ridges of his abdominal muscles, eventually resting on top of them. Gabriel pressed a gentle kiss to the forehead that was placed above his tattoo and slid his arm around the shoulders and down to the lower back, hesitantly moving his fingers under the t-shirt until they came in contact with soft, smooth skin. And dimples just above the waistband of a pair of boxers that were far too large.

The warm body sighed again and pressed soft lips to the stubble at his neck. “I tried to stay away…” Julia’s voice was hesitant, “…but I couldn’t.”

“I tried not to lick chocolate off your fingers. But I couldn’t.” Gabriel’s voice was playful but there was a note of underlying sadness.

She hummed unconsciously at his remark. “Why did you remove the photographs in your bedroom?”

He squirmed in her arms. “Because I was ashamed.”

“You weren’t before.”

“That was before I decided to bring an angel to my bed.”

Lazy but curious hands caressed naked skin, exploring gently but chastely. Sighs commingled in the dark as two souls breathed as one. Two heartbeats synchronized when they recognized one another. And two troubled, conflicted minds finally came to rest.

Just as Gabriel was drifting off, he thought he heard her talking in her sleep; not words, just utterances that grew progressively more panicked, culminating in her breathless release of a name he’d not heard before.

“Simon.”

When Julia awoke, she yawned and stretched, reaching her hand out and…nothing. Gabriel was gone and his side of the bed was cold.

A feeling of unease washed over her. The feeling was old; she’d felt it before.

It made her momentarily nauseated.

She swung her legs to the floor and saw a small note on the bedside table, propped up against a wine goblet, which was filled with water floating with lemon slices. The note was written with a fountain pen:

Lovely Julianne,

I’ve gone to pick up something special for breakfast.

Please use the washroom in the master bedroom; it’s better.

I’ve laid out some personal items for you there.

You can also choose whatever you need from my dresser and my closet.

Please stay.

Yours,

Gabriel.

P.S. Forgive my boldness, but you asleep in my arms this morning was by far the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.

Wow. How does he do that? she thought, flushing scarlet. The Professor certainly had a way with words…and flowers and music and chocolate cake…

She placed a hand to her forehead as she tried to collect herself. Chocolate cake was her new favorite dessert. And the memory of her fingertips in his warm mouth and the way that his tongue artfully…

Focus, Julia. You need to take a shower. Preferably, a cold one.

She quickly drank the water he’d left for her and tapped the note against her teeth. The last time she’d slept in his bed she’d had a very rude awakening in his living room. Although he’d been tender with her last night, she worried he might snap at her this morning.

She opened the door to the guest room and stuck her head out, eager to discern any signs of life. When she was satisfied that she was alone, she walked quietly to the master bedroom and closed the door behind her. She retrieved her clothes and entered his large bathroom, making sure to lock the door.

Gabriel had left another note with a wine goblet filled with orange juice. It was garnished with an orange slice. Clearly, Gabriel has a thing for garnishes, she thought .

On the note, she read:

Julianne,

I hope you’ll find everything you need here.

If not, Rachel stocked the vanity in the guest washroom with a number of different items. Please help yourself.

My clothes are at your disposal.

Please choose a sweater as the weather has turned cold today.

Yours,

Gabriel

Julia sipped the orange juice as she examined the items before her. Laid out on the vanity with military precision was a new toothbrush in its packaging, toothpaste, a new disposable razor (which she examined with an arched eyebrow), various feminine-looking toiletries from a company called Bliss, which were all scented with vanilla and bergamot, and a lavender-colored mesh shower sponge that was commonly referred to as a poof.

Had Gabriel asked Rachel to purchase these items for his guests? Or was Gabriel the kind of man who kept random unused shower poofs on hand for just such occasions? Perhaps he followed a color-code: lavender for virgins, red for Paulina, black for Professor Singer, green for the Emerson whores…Julia doubted the lavender one had ever been used before.

A virgin poof for a virgin…how fitting.

Julia stopped herself. Gabriel had asked for forgiveness and tried, gently, to suggest that she refrain from jumping to conclusions about him. And here she was, jumping to conclusions over a shower poof.

Looking around, she found a white, Turkish cotton bathrobe hanging on the back of the door and a pair of ladies’ bedroom slippers by the bathtub.

They were far too large for her and would have been far too large for Rachel’s feet too. This time Julia limited her negative reaction to a roll of the eyes.

It took more than a few minutes for her to figure out how to operate his very fancy shower, for it had multiple settings for body sprays, water pressures, and temperatures, and was extremely complicated. Julia was only interested in the large and central tropical rain shower, which was, of course, controlled by the last lever she pulled.

While she surrounded herself in vanilla and bergamot and tried not to think of Cream Earl Grey tea, Julia asked herself some very serious questions. She suspected that Gabriel would want to have their conversation as soon as possible. It was going to be painful. And what was she going to do afterward? Try to be friends with him? For what purpose?

She realized that if she focused on the future, she’d never be able to address the past, at least not adequately. So she was determined to focus solely on their past interactions, including his rudeness and condescension this semester. He needed to explain himself, and she needed to listen without jumping to conclusions. Then she would tell him exactly what she thought about him.

Yes, it was going to be painful for both of them. It saddened her to realize that she had never had a healthy romantic relationship, when one of the things she wanted most in life was to enjoy affection and love. And Gabriel, despite the fact that he came from a good albeit adopted family and was intelligent, handsome, and wealthy, was probably incapable of having a healthy romantic relationship at all.

Her mother’s relationships were far from healthy or normal, and Julia had seen too many of them from an early age, an endless parade of myriad dysfunctions. In contrast, her father’s relationship with Deb Lundy was normal enough, if not a little on the casual side. They cared for one another, Julia thought, but their care was cool and small, like a distant star.

Gabriel’s love would burn hot like the sun, if he was even capable of loving someone. It’s obvious he prefers sex to love, or maybe he just conflates the two.

What’s worse — thinking sex is love, or thinking that the two can be separated from one another and preferring sex?

Julia allowed the warm water of the shower to pour over her, trying to take her mind away from the inexplicable draw she felt toward him. What I would not give to have even a part of the happiness that Grace and Richard had. They had the ideal marriage. They always spoke kindly to one another.

And they were so much in love…

Julia exited the shower and was soon clad only in Gabriel’s bathrobe with a thick, white towel wrapped around her curling hair. At least, she thought it was Gabriel’s bathrobe. It didn’t smell like him. She pulled on the slippers and went hunting in the bedroom for some clothes. She found a pair of socks, a white undershirt, and a pair of Princeton boxer shorts in his dresser, all of which looked like they would fit her somewhat. Walking over to Gabriel’s large and immaculate walk-in closet, she flipped on the light switch. Row upon row of meticulously organized clothes met her on three sides.

She moved to the far wall and began going through a pile of sweaters and cardigans, almost all cashmere by Loro Piana, neatly arranged between wooden dividers on a shelf. She quickly found the British-racing-green sweater that she’d borrowed before and noticed with satisfaction that it had apparently been returned to its formerly pristine condition. She boldly held the sweater to her nose and inhaled, smiling with pleasure as she realized that it smelled of Aramis and Gabriel. He must have worn it after it had come back from the dry cleaner.