It was cool in the garden in the evening. A gentle breeze shifted the tops of the flowers toward the setting sun. The colors of the flowers were at their peak and the last of the butterflies were busy collecting their nectar. In the center of the garden was a small clearing that was surrounded by four long stone benches. Behind the stone benches stood rose trellises; the scent of the deep red roses lay heavy in the air. Clara had been sitting there on one of those hard benches for hours brushing her hair. She had only been married to Edmund for a few months and in that time their marriage had quickly grown old. He was a boorish man who frequently left her alone while he caroused with his chums at the local taverns. He would often return home drunk, if he bothered to come home at all. This night he had gone on a “business trip” with one of those chums and would not be returning for several days. Clara slowly drew the brush through her hair and wondered if her husband were thinking about her. She shook her head sadly and shed a single tear. He was a selfish man, a fact that she had learned on their wedding night, and one that she had been reminded of every night they spent together.
While Clara worked on her garden, her mind drifted back to their first night together. Her father had arranged her marriage and she moved into Edmund’s house on her wedding day. She had carefully chosen her nightgown and perfumed their bed. She opened the French doors leading into the garden and waited on the small chair just inside their room while Edmund celebrated his marriage with his friends. It grew late and Clara fell asleep where she sat. She was awakened by laughter and opened her eyes with a start; Edmund stood over her smiling. He pulled Clara out of the chair and into his arms, kissing her as though she were a barmaid from one of the local taverns. He then dragged her over and pushed her onto the bed. She bit her lip as he pulled upwards the skirt of her gown and sat down upon her legs. He casually opened his pants and released his hard organ from its cloth prison. He pulled down the shoulders of her nightshirt and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them hard with his rough hands. And then pulling his wife’s hips toward him, he entered her and began the pursuit of his own pleasure as though she were a common whore. “Edmund,” Clara protested, but he continued his assault with a hard thrust against her womanly fortress. She cried out in pain from the sudden tearing of her virginity. Edmund ignored her tearful pleas for gentleness and continued his animal pursuit. Clara felt some humiliation in her husband’s callous disregard of her needs. This humiliation only strengthened her distaste for Edmund and her desire for a lover.
