Chapter Five “Divine Comedy” the Novel
After the stage of Lina and me passed, the notorious divine comedy brought another one; it was sweet and short. It was more of a test of my willingness to change and grow. Over the Internet, I met a young woman named Sabrina. She lived in Las Vegas, and we had some good communication over the Internet and the phone. Sabrina was a part-black beauty; she was well educated and divorced and had a pretty young daughter. After communicating for about a month and a half, I decided I was going to visit her in Vegas, but I would stay in my own hotel. She pleasantly agreed, and the date was set.
I flew to Las Vegas from Long Beach Airport and arrived at the Bellagio Hotel. Upon my arrival, I called Sabrina and told her where I was. Before too long, Sabrina was waiting for me at the caviar bar, which is my favorite spot at the Bellagio. The encounter was pleasant, and it was evident that we liked each other. We had caviar, champagne, and some cheeses, and we had a lovely conversation. Sabrina told me that she had booked a helicopter tour of Vegas that same night. I was semipleased because I am not into these kinds of touristy things; however, I was very appreciative. At a particular moment, I asked Sabrina if she would accompany me to my room; she was somewhat surprised at my forwardness but showed evident pleasure I had asked. She immediately said she had never met anyone as brave, direct, and honest as I was. I made no comment. She got up before I did, and she was more anxious to get to the room than I was. It was as though she were mal fiché, a French expression for a horny girl who has not been fucked for some time.
Soon I found out that she indeed was. We had sex for a long, long time. I was still impotent, but I was still interested in sex then. She was great, and she thought I was too.
We went to dinner at the fabulous Sinatra restaurant, which was opened in honor of “the Chairman,” Frank Sinatra. It has unfortunately closed since. We ate, drank, and talked; it was very pleasant indeed. The time had come for our helicopter ride, and we left. The ride was not that bad, but I thought it was pretty silly.
After the flight, Sabrina came with me to the hotel room for another sexual marathon. Then she left, with the plan that we would meet the next morning.
Considering that the divine comedy rules my life, I was not in any condition to get seriously involved with anyone; I was merely fooling around, enjoying my time and grieving the loss of my friend Lina. But something happened for which the divine comedy had not prepared me. It was a disastrous tale to the point that I feel embarrassed to write about it; however, it happened, and I have to be a truthful writer, telling it as it was. It is for the reader to make the judgment, not for me.
Before I get into that episode of my divinely comical life, I need to say that Sabrina came with her daughter to visit me in California at 301 Bay Shore, the apartment by the bay that I will forever miss, as it was the only place I considered home in this forsaken country. We had a wonderful weekend together and with my regular friends.
As the divine comedy has it, all things that begin must end. My relationship with Sabrina did not last long. It ended abruptly after I met Adeleh. My desire to change for the first time came with a price. Ah! I shall never forget the notorious, mysterious Adeleh for what she was and what she had done.
Adeleh was Iranian and a beauty despite her advanced age; she was about my age, and it was quite strange for me to accept. To this very moment, I believe that the divine comedy afflicted me with temporary insanity, for I can never explain why I entered into such a relationship. Adeleh was Muslim and Iranian, so she demanded marriage right away. Since I was not myself—I was fragile, vulnerable, and scared—the divine comedy played a very dirty trick on me, and I agreed. I married Adeleh days after we met, which, of course, is absolutely insane, I know. She was very sexual and sensual, and I was a sex maniac. I never had enough of sex; well, neither did Adeleh. It was a sexual spell comparable only to the days of the Roman Empire.
She accompanied me to two of my doctors. One, I remember, was my cardiologist, Dr. Mike Vasilomanolakis, for my yearly stress-echo test; the second I cannot recall. I got permission from my doctors to travel to Europe and invited Adeleh and her younger daughter to Paris and London. Initially, the plan was to stay two weeks in each city, but she made my life so miserable that I cut our stay to one week in each city. It was in Europe that I began to regain my consciousness and intellect back, and I decided that that relationship had to end fast.
I decided to return from London, and she decided to stay longer with her daughter. Upon my arrival back home, her older daughter, whose beauty, elegance, and sensuality were striking, met me at the Los Angeles airport. I cannot fib; I lusted after her, and I am sure she shared my desires—I am an expert in this arena of lust. It was not that late in the evening, so she and I went to dinner at McKenna, which is now the Boat House. It was one of the most pleasant moments of my life. It was as though the divine comedy was enjoying torturing me and killing me softly. We finished dinner. I invited her to stay the night, and she accepted. Now what should I have done? My normal self would say I would have had an amazing, sexually charged night with many orgasms, like never before; she was better looking than a magazine model. But no—the divine comedy evoked my conscience, telling me that she was my stepdaughter, and I could not touch her. Since when had such matters bothered my conscience? I had slept with devils, for heaven’s sake.
It was summer and a warm night. After another bottle of divine Jordan Cab wine, we decided to sleep. Oops, what do we do now? I innocently suggested we sleep together in my bed, but I normally sleep naked and have done so since my childhood. I made an exception that night and wore briefs, and she slept in her sexy pink bra and edible sexy pink underwear. She slept on the inside, and I on the outside. She rested her beautiful head with her gorgeous hair on my right shoulder and placed her right arm on my naked chest. I know it sounds absolutely fictional to say nothing happened—this was one of the times when the fine elastic line between what is fiction and what is real was stretched to what was real. I felt I had died in her arms that night. It took me forever to fall asleep with my mind racing, tempted to kiss her luscious lips and eat her pink pussy, but nothing happened. She perhaps thought I was gay. I do not think that she thought I did not want to touch her because she was my stepdaughter.
The divine comedy wanted to have some fun with my stepdaughter and me. I woke up with a very strong erection that actually hurt, partly because I was wearing tight briefs. I looked at it. She did too, and I apologized. She shyly smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it; it’s cute.”
Cute! I screamed to myself, cursing the divine comedy and the day I recognized its existence. My beauty queen spent the day with me. She was studying on the floor below the large window, and I was writing at my desk. Every few minutes, we would chat and share thoughts. She had high regard for my profession as a professor, and I had high regard for her intelligence, knowledge, and beauty. That day shall be printed in my memory forever. I hope she reads this and knows what was going on with me. She then left; with her, she took a piece of me I have never regained.
I had already decided I was leaving her mom, Adeleh. She was an unscrupulous woman and a con artist. She convinced me to let her have access to my account, and in addition to the $5,000 ring I had bought her and the $5,000 I gave her in cash so that she would not have to file for bankruptcy, I discovered that she had withdrawn $50,000 from my savings account. We fought a lot, and it was the worst of times. She even had the courageous, satanic spirit to ask me for $2,000 a month.
I had already made up my mind that Adeleh would be history soon. We had our last dinner at the Italian restaurant, Spaghettini. There we had one of our worst arguments—I do not recall about what. On the way home, as she was driving her Mercedes, I opened the door. I jumped out when the car was going faster and have never seen Adeleh again. The total time we spent together was a month. I filed for a divorce, and she went mad, wanting it to be an annulment so that she could con other victims. Although I refused, in court, she told the judge I was impotent, and the female judge granted her annulment, to my surprise and dismay. I just hoped that she had not gotten the idea from her beautiful daughter, with whom I could have shared the best sexual experience any human could. A chapter, an ugly one, was closed, and I had to move to a new chapter of life.