Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (25 page)

"Yes, I see that you have," said her sister slowly. "But you
chose
the price you have paid in exchange for the fees you have collected. The rest of us have not made any such choice or collected any such fees, yet we have to pay the price right along with you!"

There was silence for a moment after this outburst.

The third-eldest sister sat brooding about her unhappy marriage while her older sister made an attempt to turn the subject around.

"You know," she said with a sigh, "it is true about the men. Most of my customers are fat, bald and ugly."

"Indeed," chipped in the fourth-eldest sister, who had remained silent up until this point. "It is because we are expected to be perfect, in a world where perfection doesn't exist. The standard is so high that no woman could possibly reach it. Meanwhile, the men just sit back and enjoy the show. They don't have to worry over their appearance because nobody ever seems to notice them. They are invisible."

The sisters laughed in agreement when they heard this.

"But you have reached physical perfection," interjected the ugly duckling, who had listened in silent shock to her sisters' confusing harangue. "I saw your picture on the cover of that prestigious magazine."

"I am ashamed of that picture," said her sister with emotion, gaining the full attention of her sisters, and then continuing with her own story as follows.

"I know I am a beautiful woman. I have dedicated my entire life to beauty! But that is not enough to satisfy the editors of the women's, ha,
women's
— " she paused over the word for emphasis before continuing "— magazines. How women can bear to read them is beyond me.

"Anyway, I found that I was not— indeed none of us were— good enough to grace the pages of those militant catalogs of female delusion and torture. Before I could even be accepted as a candidate I discovered that I would have to submit to a number of surgical alterations and virtually stop eating. All of this I did, and at last I was chosen for the magazine of which you spoke. But would you believe, even after all I had suffered and endured, in the end I was still not beautiful enough, and the picture was altered in the final draft." There were tears in her eyes as she looked at her youngest sister. "That picture is not one of me, but of a specter— the very same specter that is being held up before women to keep them racing after perfection." She looked around sadly at her sisters, and added, "It is the same specter that has ruined the lives of each and every one of us."

For some reason this brought their youngest sister to their attention. Almost simultaneously the women turned to her.

"What has life been like for you?" asked her oldest sister.

"Well, I am certainly satisfied with it," she answered humbly, not wishing in the least to gloat over her own happiness in light of what she had just heard.

"You continued your education, didn't you?" another sister asked. "What was it you studied?"

Timidly she began to tell her sisters about her studies, never at a loss for words when she spoke of the things she had learned. Yet their silence intimidated her, and her voice trailed off. No doubt they would think her life ridiculous.

But her older sisters did not mock her or laugh. They questioned her with interest and, at length, she told them about her many interests and her marriage and her little daughter. Feeling guilty over her own good fortune and happiness, she refrained from telling them about the many little joys in her life; like how her husband worked so hard to keep himself in tiptop shape for her, or how he never lost interest in making love to her. The sisters were too astute not to see these things in her face, however, and could not help feeling envy for the accomplishments of their youngest sibling, despite her supposed physical defects.

The third-eldest sister, being the bitterest of the four, could not help remarking, "It seems as if we would all have been better off to have been born ugly!"

The eldest sister immediately jumped to her youngest sister's defense, saying, "You're just jealous."

The youngest sister took courage by this. "I don't think it is because I am ugly that I am so happy," she said slowly, thinking. "Of course, I did not rely on good looks to do me any favors, and that was part of it. But mostly I felt that whatever I should seek out of life, I should first identify it for what it truly is, and then find out what it would cost me. And that is what I have done."

She looked at her sister who was so unhappily married and went on, "You said yourself that if you had held back and waited, you might have discovered that your husband did not really love you. But you allowed yourself to be flattered by his attentions, not realizing that they weren't really all that flattering because he didn't care very much for you at all."

She turned to her other sisters and continued, "Each of you suffered similarly because you let yourselves be used for the moment as beautiful objects. You did get paid, but not enough considering that you traded your own requirements for a happy life for that payment. You've in a sense made men unaccountable for their actions."

After that, there seemed little left to say.

Finally inside the door to her house, her haven, the ugly duckling sighed in relief. It was late, but a welcoming light had been left on in the entranceway. There were newly cut flowers in a vase sitting on a small table. She took a moment to smell them, savoring everything about being home.

She continued on up the stairway until she came to a small bedroom at the top. She stepped inside, carefully making her way in the darkness to the small bed where the barely audible sleeping sounds drifted upward from a clutter of soft blankets. She stooped to kiss the tiny cheek, soft and warm. She adjusted the blankets as she admired her daughter, so beautiful like her aunts. She would teach her to enjoy her beauty but not to rely upon it.

She left her sleeping daughter and quietly made her way down the hall to the larger bedroom. Upon entering, she stopped for a moment and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply the familiar scents of his cologne as it mingled with her perfume. It was a warm night, and it delighted her to see the long, filmy curtains swaying gently with the breeze.

She removed her clothes and eased her way into the warm bed. He was awake, and without a word, took her in his arms and pulled her into his warmth. She nestled against him and felt the familiar hardening of his body.

ENCHANTED: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women

ISBN: 1-55254-496-6

Copyright © 2006 by Nancy Madore.

All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission. For permission please contact Spice Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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