Dr. Edward Jones peeled away the bandages from Roxanne's breasts. He held one breast in his right hand and examined it closely. The incision was barely visible, and was healing nicely.
"Well, how do I look?" Roxanne asked, impatiently.
"Beautiful as always, my dear. You don't need to have any cosmetic changes done, Roxanne. You're a strikingly good looking woman. Leave the beauty fixes for the neglected housewives and disfigured persons."
"Oh save the lecture, Edward! You should be grateful you're married to me. Not many women would give you a second glance, with that plain face of yours, and those thick owlish glasses you wear. Why the hell did I marry you?"
"You were probably tired of paying me the money I deserved to do the unnecessary make-overs on you. I do love you as you are, Roxanne," Edward replied, placing a kiss on his wife's forehead.
"Oh, shut up!" snapped Roxanne, turning her head away. She looked at herself in the hand mirror that was on the night stand, and was pleased with the results. The puffiness and bluish color should fade away in time, before her trip to the resort next weekend, with a few friends.
The one thing she made sure to never run out of, besides money, was make-up. There was plenty of that in her dressing room to make her look flawless and more stunning. She could not wait to flaunt her latest assets.
Edward walked toward the door. He paused before opening it.
"I feel like a stranger with my own wife. I know my work gets in the way at times. Why don't we go somewhere quiet and romantic to spend some time together?" he suggested.
"Paris or London sounds marvelous. I need a new wardrobe to go with my new look." Roxanne said, looking up when she heard the door shut.
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"Ahh, Roxy, I can't keep my hands off your magnificent boobs!"
"Careful, Paul, they're still slightly tender from the surgery. You'll have them to play with all weekend. I told my husband I'm visiting Jackie." Roxanne got out of bed and poured herself another drink.
"If you were my wife, I wouldn't let you out of my sight. Your husband's a damn fool."
"He's a man besotted with a beautiful woman, and believes the lies I tell him."
Roxanne went onto the balcony. The music from the resort band was loud, competing with the laughter coming from the patrons at the poolside. The non-stop partying was fun, and she was having an exciting time. All the men wanted to flirt with her. Paul was great in bed, with a voracious sexual appetite to match hers. She would keep in contact with him after she left. The fake compliments Joan and her other female friends made when they saw her robust cleavage made Roxanne smile. Envious bitches, she mused, finishing her drink.
The weekend activities came to an end, and Roxanne left late Sunday evening. After driving for a while, it began to rain. The road became slippery, and the car skidded. It spun out of control, and went over the embankment, hitting a tree before landing upside-down. A truck driver saw the wreckage and found Roxanne unconscious.
Roxanne woke up with a splitting headache. She looked around and realized she was in the hospital. Edward was sitting in a chair nearby and held her hand.
"What happened?" she asked groggily, attempting to sit and moaned in pain.
"Don't try to move. You were in an accident, and were brought here. You broke a couple ribs, and your face was badly cut from the broken glass. The doctors said your alcohol level was high too."
Roxanne put a hand to her face, and felt the bandages. "No, not my face!" she yelled, but stopped talking when she felt pain resulting from it.
"It's alright darling. I was called as soon as the doctors realized who you were. I decided to perform plastic surgery while you were unconscious. It was easier that way."
Roxanne was discharged earlier than expected, and Edward took her home. He had taken leave to care for his wife, and catered to her whims.
"I'm going to take the bandages off now," Edward told Roxanne in her dressing room one day.
"Well, it's about time. I'm tired of being cooped up in this dreary house with you!"
Edward slowly cut away the bandages, and turned Roxanne's head from side to side. He was pleased with the results. It was one of his finest works ever.
“Perfect. Your face healed nicely, and not a scar in sight. All you need is a suntan to get rid of that pale complexion."
"Hurry up, I want to see!" Roxanne spun around in the swivel chair and looked in the dresser mirror. She blinked before letting out a scream. Staring back at her was a creature that looked like death warmed over. Her nose was long and shaped like a beak, and her lips were plumped up from having been injected with too much Botox. The skin had been pulled back tightly, giving the cheekbones a too high look. Roxanne's brows were raised at an angle, causing her eyes to appear slant and close set.
"My face! What have you done to me, you bastard?" she shouted, slapping Edward across his face. He smiled sadly.
"I created a new look for my wife. I have put up with your tantrums and selfish attitude for too long, hoping you would change and return my love. Everything I did and gave you was never good enough. You thought you could get away with your affair at the resort, didn't you? I've performed plastic surgery on some of your friends. A couple of the women at the resort were more than happy to call, informing me of my wife's antics. Did you know how hurt I was?"
"You'll never get away with this. I'm leaving you!" Roxanne cried, rising from the chair. Edward pushed her back into it. He had an angry expression which Roxanne had never seen displayed before.
"You no longer call the shots, sweetheart. From now on, you'll do exactly what I tell you. No need to worry about looking beautiful anymore. No man will want you now, and you'll never leave this house without me. Your time will be spent doing the cooking, housework, and catering to my needs."
Roxanne cried, still in shock over her appearance, and realized there was no-one to turn to. She would not let anyone see her horrendous looking face.
"I hate you!" she shouted at Edward, throwing a bottle at him. He caught it and read the label with a smile.
"Beauty Magic Cream. This won't help, my darling. You call me plain, but it's you who should be grateful to be married to me. Now go to the kitchen and fix my dinner. Your glamorous party days are over!"
Image courtesy of wikimediacommons.org
Image courtesy of wikimediacommons.org