Gabriel escorted her through the empty corridor and down the

stairs to the first floor, where the banquet was just beginning.

P

Professor Pacciani stumbled back to his apartment by the Pitti

Palace in the wee hours of the morning. This was not an unusual

occurrence.

He fumbled with his keys, cursing as he dropped them, and en-

tered the flat, closing the door behind him. He walked to the small room in which his twin four-year-old sons were asleep, kissing them before shuffling to his study.

33

Sylvain Reynard

He smoked a leisurely cigarette as he waited for his computer

to boot up, then he logged into his email. He ignored his inbox and composed a short message to a former student and lover. They had

not been in contact since her graduation.

He mentioned meeting Professor Emerson and his very young

Canadian fidanzata. He mused that although he’d been impressed with Emerson’s monograph with Oxford University Press, the Professor’s lecture smacked of a pseudo-intellectualism that truly had no place in a professional academic lecture. One should either be

intellectual and academic, or one should be a public speaker and

entertaining, but not both. Pacciani queried churlishly if this was what passed for excellence in North American universities.

He ended his email with an explicit and detailed suggestion of

a prospective sexual rendezvous, possibly in the late spring. Then he finished his cigarette in the darkness and joined his wife in their matrimonial bed.

34

Chapter 3

Christa Peterson had a privileged upbringing, so really, there

was no excuse for her vicious nature. She had two parents who

loved each other and their only daughter very much. Her father was a well-respected oncologist in Toronto. Her mother was a librarian at Havergal College, an elite, private girl’s school that Christa attended from kindergarten through grade twelve.

Christa went to Sunday school. She was confirmed as an Anglican.

She studied Thomas Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer, but none of these actions touched her heart. And when she was fifteen years old she discovered the immense power of female sexuality. Once she discovered it, it became not only her currency but her weapon of choice.

Her best friend, Lisa Malcolm, had an older brother called Brent.

Brent was handsome. He looked like so many other graduates of

Upper Canada College, a private boy’s school that catered to Canada’s old moneyed families. He had blond hair and blue eyes and was tall and fit. He was a rower for the University of Toronto’s men’s team and could easily have starred in a J.Crew commercial.

Christa had admired Brent from afar but because of the four-

year age difference, he’d never noticed her. But then, late one night while sleeping over at Lisa’s house, Christa ran into Brent on her way to the bathroom. He’d been extremely taken by her long dark hair,

big brown eyes, and youthful, nubile form. He’d kissed her gently

in the hallway and brushed tentative fingers across her breast. Then he’d taken her hand and invited her to his room.

After thirty minutes of making out and feeling one another

through their clothes, he was eager to take things further. Christa hesitated, because she was a virgin, so Brent began making wild and extravagant promises — gifts, romantic dates, and final y, a Baume & Sylvain Reynard

Mercier stainless steel watch that had been a present from his parents on his eighteenth birthday.

Christa had admired his watch. She knew it well, for Brent trea-

sured it. In truth, she wanted it almost more than she wanted him.

Brent fastened the watch on her wrist, and she stared at it, mar-

veling at the coolness of the steel against her flesh and the way it slid easily up and down her narrow forearm. It was a token. A sign that he desired her so intensely, he was willing to give her one of his most prized possessions.

It made her feel wanted. And powerful.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you. But God,

I want you. And I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

Christa smiled and let him place her on his narrow bed like

an Incan sacrifice on an altar and gave her virginity up to him in exchange for a three-thousand-dollar watch.

Brent kept his word. He was gentle. He went slowly. He kissed

her and softly explored her mouth. He paid homage to her breasts.

He prepared her with his fingers and tested her to ensure that she was ready for him. When he entered her, he did so carefully. There was no blood. Just large hands rubbing circles on her hips and a

low voice that murmured instructions on how to relax, until her

discomfort disappeared.

As promised, he made her feel good. He made her feel beautiful

and special. And when it was over he held her closely all night. For he was not an entirely vicious soul, driven as he was by carnal needs.

They would repeat this act many times over the next three years,

despite other romantic entanglements. Before Brent entered her, he would always place a gift in her hand.

He was soon followed by Mr. Woolworth, Christa’s grade-eleven

Math teacher. Christa’s encounters with Brent taught her much about men, how to read their wants and desires, how to tantalize and pro-voke, and how to string along and tease.

She teased Mr. Woolworth unmercifully until the man cracked

and begged her to meet him at a hotel after school. Christa liked it when men begged. In the plain hotel room, her teacher surprised

her with a silver necklace from Tiffany. He placed the delicate links around her neck and kissed her flesh softly. In exchange, Christa let 36

Gabriel’s Rapture

him explore her body for hours until he fell asleep, exhausted and sated.

He was not as attractive as Brent, but he was far more experienced.

For every subsequent gift, she would allow him to touch her in old and new ways. By the time their affair ended and Christa moved to

Quebec to attend Bishop’s University, she’d amassed an enormous

amount of jewelry and an extensive knowledge of sexual relations.

Moreover, Christa had become one of few women who viewed the

role of the man-eating seductress as something to emulate.

When Christa completed her master’s degree in Renaissance

Studies at the Università degli Studi di Firenze, her pattern of relationships was fixed. She preferred older men, men in positions of power.

She was excited by forbidden affairs — the more remote, the more

improbable, the better.

She tried for two years to seduce a priest who was assigned to

the Duomo in Florence, and right before graduation, she succeeded.

He took her in the single bed of his tiny apartment, but before he touched her, he wrapped her long, warm fingers around a tiny icon

that had been painted by Giotto. It was priceless. But so, she reasoned, was she. Christa would allow men to have her, but only at a price.

And she’d always bedded the men she wanted — eventually.

Until her first year of PhD coursework at the University of To-

ronto when she met Professor Gabriel O. Emerson. He was by far

the most attractive and sensual of all the men she’d ever met. And he appeared very sexual. His raw, smoldering carnality oozed from

every pore. She could almost smell it.

She watched him hunt at his favorite bar. She noted his stealthy,

seductive approach and the way women reacted to him. She stud-

ied him the way she studied Italian, and she put her knowledge to

good use.

But he spurned her. He never looked at her body. He would gaze

into her eyes coldly, as if she wasn’t even female.

She began to dress more provocatively. He never glanced below

her neck.

She tried to be sweet and self-deprecating. He was impatient.

She baked him cookies and took to leaving anonymous culinary

treats in his mail box at the department. The treats would remain

untouched for weeks until Mrs. Jenkins, the departmental secretary, 37

Sylvain Reynard

threw them into the garbage, worried about a potential infestation of vermin.

The more Professor Emerson rejected her, the more she wanted

him. The more she became obsessed with having him, the less she

cared about receiving gifts in trade. She would give herself to him freely if he would only look at her with desire.

But he didn’t.

So in the fall of 2009, when she had the opportunity to meet him

at Starbucks and discuss her dissertation, she was eager to see if their meeting could turn into dinner and possibly a visit to Lobby. She

would be on her best behavior, but she would be alluring. Hopefully, he would stop resisting her.

In preparation for her meeting, she spent six hundred dollars on

a black Bordelle chemise, along with garters and black silk stockings.

She disdained the matching panties. Every time the garters pulled

across the surface of her skin, she felt inflamed. She wondered how it would feel when Professor Emerson released her stockings from

their bonds, preferably with his teeth.

Unfortunately for Christa, Paul and Julia had chosen to inhabit

the same Starbucks at the same time. Christa knew without doubt