The Wicked Beauty of Desdemona Flummerty
Desdemona Flummerty was an unusually striking woman. She was both staggeringly beautiful and decidedly haughty, and she trifled with the men in her life as if they were merely worthless toys to be broken. She delighted in witnessing their hopeless displays of desperate affection. She eagerly chewed up their tender feelings, spitting them out with relish. Wherever Desdemona went, men of all ages were forced to meekly surrender, struck down by the relentless power of her alluring beauty.
Desdemona had not always been regarded as beautiful. As a child, she had suffered the daily unhappiness of being seen as an ugly duckling. Even her own mother had said to her, more than once or twice, "Desdemona, your face is never going to be your fortune." Desdemona was a smart and ambitious girl, and she excelled in school, but boys did not like her, and they never asked her out. The other girls frequently expressed their pity for Desdemona, sometimes directly to her face, which made her determined to grow out of her homeliness.
"I am tired of being an ugly duckling," Desdemona said. "I want to be a swan."
As it turned out, time was on Desdemona's side. When she passed from the years of girlhood to the years of womanhood, she did actually become quite beautiful, much to the surprise of everyone who knew her. With her twinkling eyes, her pleasing smile, and her perfect figure, she was a compellingly lovely sight, even on a bad day. The girls who had once pitied her at school, and who had also passed from girlhood to womanhood themselves, now were filled with a deep envy that verged on bitterness.
At first, Desdemona was greatly unsettled by the unseemly furor that resulted from her beauty. Any man who came near her was instantly overcome by her charms, and many of them were moved to helplessly fall at her feet, loudly pledging themselves to eternal worship. After a time, however, she began to enjoy the startling effect that her womanly qualities had on male pulses, and she became practiced at using her feminine wiles to her own benefit. She shamelessly took advantage of the men who excitedly pursued her, with no remorse for her willful actions.
"Why should I feel sorry for any man?" Desdemona asked herself. "If I was not beautiful, none of them would have anything to do with me."
Desdemona continued to wield her wicked beauty as a weapon, exploiting hapless men until she was well into her eighties. It seemed that growing into old age only increased the strength of her allure. Finally, after a lifetime of shallow romances, she grew weary of men and their foolishness. She allowed herself the luxury of having one last fling, with a young man from Vienna who still was in his early twenties, and then, without a hint of regret, she quietly retreated to a nunnery, where she was happy to read mysteries and bake fruitcakes.
Desdemona had not always been regarded as beautiful. As a child, she had suffered the daily unhappiness of being seen as an ugly duckling. Even her own mother had said to her, more than once or twice, "Desdemona, your face is never going to be your fortune." Desdemona was a smart and ambitious girl, and she excelled in school, but boys did not like her, and they never asked her out. The other girls frequently expressed their pity for Desdemona, sometimes directly to her face, which made her determined to grow out of her homeliness.
"I am tired of being an ugly duckling," Desdemona said. "I want to be a swan."
As it turned out, time was on Desdemona's side. When she passed from the years of girlhood to the years of womanhood, she did actually become quite beautiful, much to the surprise of everyone who knew her. With her twinkling eyes, her pleasing smile, and her perfect figure, she was a compellingly lovely sight, even on a bad day. The girls who had once pitied her at school, and who had also passed from girlhood to womanhood themselves, now were filled with a deep envy that verged on bitterness.
At first, Desdemona was greatly unsettled by the unseemly furor that resulted from her beauty. Any man who came near her was instantly overcome by her charms, and many of them were moved to helplessly fall at her feet, loudly pledging themselves to eternal worship. After a time, however, she began to enjoy the startling effect that her womanly qualities had on male pulses, and she became practiced at using her feminine wiles to her own benefit. She shamelessly took advantage of the men who excitedly pursued her, with no remorse for her willful actions.
"Why should I feel sorry for any man?" Desdemona asked herself. "If I was not beautiful, none of them would have anything to do with me."
Desdemona continued to wield her wicked beauty as a weapon, exploiting hapless men until she was well into her eighties. It seemed that growing into old age only increased the strength of her allure. Finally, after a lifetime of shallow romances, she grew weary of men and their foolishness. She allowed herself the luxury of having one last fling, with a young man from Vienna who still was in his early twenties, and then, without a hint of regret, she quietly retreated to a nunnery, where she was happy to read mysteries and bake fruitcakes.