Woman by Chirin Barikan

Posted on November 27, 2012 by

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Her name was Sylvia and she knew exactly what she needed to do. In her nineteen years she had done nothing so reckless, with perhaps the exception of displaying her naked portrait as a Greek goddess at the Royal Art Academy. She was well aware of her social status; knew how her name repeatedly appeared in gossip columns, and she  knew most of all how powerful the effect she had on men was.

She dressed in a fashion exposing as much skin as possible not caring whether it was or wasn’t socially acceptable. You see, the life of a late nineteenth century aristocrat girl was all dependant on her reputation. And the reputation of a girl, especially one as pretty as Sylvia was a delicate thing. Like a Mynah bird in your hands, loosen your grip the slightest, and away it flies. But it was that slight chance of  getting caught that made things so exciting.

She left her great aunt’s house with one man in mind, and was determined to get her way no matter what the price. Of course, landing a man such as Lord Wilhelm would not be an easily accomplished task, but Sylvia, unlike her sister, was not an easy or fast quitter.

 

Two Months Later

 

Lord Wilhelm was sunk so deep into depression that he could barely bring himself to be civil to people. With Sylvia’s decision to leave him, all the joy had gone out of his life. Time after time he had told himself that he was being ridiculous. Because he was after all, a very fortunate man. He came from a highly respected family. He was wealthy. He was healthy, and he was blessed with two handsome, and intelligent sons and had a wife who loved him. He had, in fact, all that a sane, reasonable man could wish for. But he wasn’t happy. And in his blackest moments he wondered if would ever be happy again. All the pain inflicted on him was because of a girl who was young enough to be his daughter.

Sophisticated as he was, nothing in his previous experiences had prepared him for Sylvia. It had never occurred to him, that a girl so young – and brought up the way she was brought up – could be so sexually provocative.

Never in a million years would he have thought that instead of disapproval, his reaction would be to fall head over heels and crazily in love her. He was forty-three. Men of forty-three didn’t lose their heads in such a way. If and when they indulged in love affairs they were always carefully in control of the affair. It didn’t disrupt their lives, never disrupted their marriage, and they never, ever did they become enslaved.

But he, the fool that he was, had become completely enslaved to Sylvia.

“Women” he sighed as she walked away, “will never make sense to any of us.”

 

She walked away from him with a smug grin on her lips. She now had the power to destroy the life of Lord Wilhelm, not the slightest concerned about what it would do to her reputation. It was, after all, a very small price to pay in order to ruin the man who had ruined her father.

“Men will always be men,” she sighed as she walked away, determined to make the best use of whatever information she had.

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