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Message-ID: <57451asstr$1206335405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Leo Wulf" <leowulf@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} A Decent Proposal (M solo, no sex)
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Date: Mon, 24 Mar 2008 01:10:05 -0400
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A Decent Proposal (M solo, rom, no sex)

by Leowulf

In which a businessman considers a merger

1.  This one doesn't need a disclaimer, but make one up if you like.  :)
2.  Do NOT repost this except to ASSTR or Usenet.
3.  Send me feedback!  Leowulf "at" gmail "dot" com.  Let me know what
you like (and dislike) about my stories.

--

A Decent Proposal

"Mommy?"

Robert Wells awoke in his bed with the same thought he had every day for
the past week.  He was filled with an aching need for Beth.  All his
life, the man had been alone and not really minded, not often.  But each
of the past 6 days he'd awoken with a deep loneliness.  When Mommy -
when Beth - wasn't here, it was like a part of him was missing.  An
important part.

'Well, she's not here, so stop whining,' Wells mentally snapped at an
irritating part of his psyche.  'Stop whining and start your day!'  He
stretched lazily under the soft, fuzzy blanket that Mommy - that Beth -
had thoughtfully placed under his plain, serviceable sheets when she
made his bed.  With a sigh, the small, lonely man climbed out of bed.

Wells padded barefoot into the bathroom and lifted his nightshirt.  More
properly, the oversized T-shirt that Mommy had given him to wear as a
nightshirt.  It still vaguely smelled like her, and that helped ease his
loneliness.  A little.

After attending to a necessary function, the man lifted off the
nightshirt and stepped into the shower.  Mom - Beth! - had been trying
to get him to start taking baths, but he hadn't had a bath since he was
a child.  With low water pressure, but a nearly endless supply of hot
water, the plumbing seemed designed for baths.  But baths were so
childish.

Stepping out of the shower, clean and ready for whatever Mommy -
whatever Beth - had planned for the day, Wells took the fluffy blue bath
towel she had also given him.  It was more efficient than the plain one
the man had always used before.

"Beth?"

Robert Wells sighed in exasperation.  Beth had absolutely no idea how he
liked things kept.  Socks, underwear, everything had a place; efficient
and predictable.  Until Mommy - until Beth - began doing his laundry.
Still, Wells had to admit, her including his things to her trips to the
laundromat was less expensive than having them professionally laundered.

'Don't even think about it!'  The man castigated the small, irritating
part of himself that wanted to snuggle with the soft, lacy underthings
that she'd dumped into his dresser with his own clean clothes.  'Always
be the same and you'll always notice when something is not.'  Obviously,
Mommy - Beth, damn it! - had never been taught that lesson.

The man dressed, not in his customary suit, but in slacks and a shirt,
without even a tie.  Mommy was right that continuing to wear the suits
was going to wear them out more quickly.  It was better to leave them
for when they went out somewhere.

Dressed - though not wearing shoes - and shaved, the man went into the
kitchen to see what Mommy - what Beth - had prepared for his breakfast.
He was not in the habit of breakfast; toast or scones and a cup or two
of hot tea were usually enough.  But his Nanny insisted he eat a proper
breakfast.  Her cooking from the night before always tasted so fresh and
good.

The sausage and pancakes - if Wells didn't know better, he'd swear they
were still warm - were delicious.  The orange juice was good, if pulpy.
Two gallons of milk were in the fridge, but they were for his Nanny.
Wells blushed when he saw them.

"Mommy ... "

Robert looked out at the snowman he and Beth had made.  It was still
pretty, for want of a better word, even after 3 days.  That was the
first snowman he made since he was a child, before his mother had passed
on.  Playing, for want of a better word, outside with Mommy - with Beth
- was fun, and her attitude toward him was more loving than he'd expect
from a Nanny.

"Maybe it's because she loves me," Wells surprised himself by saying
that out loud.  'Don't be ridiculous,' he mentally snapped at himself.
'Mommy - that is, Beth - doesn't even know me; how can she love me.'
Besides, and more to the point, If she did love him, then the man would
have to consider how he felt about her.  He wasn't ready for that.

Candidly, Wells had not been very lovable over the past week.  He'd
tried Mommy's patience often, insisted on his own way.  Once he was not
just defiant but disrespectful; he thought she was going to spank him
for it, but she hugged him instead.

Bobby hastily ran to grab a tissue from the plain, serviceable holder on
the coffee table.  He dried his eyes, and his cheeks where the tears
were already running down.  He'd cried more this past week than he ever
remembered doing so.  Also laughed more than he could remember he ever
did.  It seemed Mommy - it seemed Beth - knew how to bring out his
emotions.

He wanted to show his Nanny that he loved - that he _respected_ - her.
He felt very bad about how he'd been treating her ever since they first
met.  She deserved far better.  To avoid crying again, the man went to
the safety of his computer.

"Beth ... "

Wells sat at his computer, thinking and figuring.  He looked at her
receipts, bills and other records, and had been able to prepare a
budget, but it would be tight.  The credit card debt and student loans
were, of course, holes that had to be filled each month, neither
benefiting Beth, but the biggest expense was that damned apartment.  It
was far too overpriced.

'Mommy could live with me,' Wells mused.  '"Beth", you imbecile!'  The
man lashed out at that part of himself that saw his Nanny as something
other than an employee.  She could be "Mommy" at play time, but Wells
had to keep his perspective.  She wouldn't want a small child to have to
take care of.  'But she wants to care for me,' the child-part of himself
insisted.

Bobby sat at the computer a full half hour, daydreaming about Mommy
caring for him.  It was only reluctantly that he got back to work.  He
had to find some way to cut her costs, or free up money to increase her
pay and give her benefits.

While he was there, he contacted his insurance company and had Ms
Elizabeth Chandler added to his auto insurance.  She liked his BMW.  It
had seen more use this week than it ever did when he was - before they -
well, before.  To make it legal, he updated his policy.  Mommy - Beth -
might not be concerned about it, but the authorities would be.  Best be
safe.

Wells looked at spreadsheets and other applications, tsking at the
duplicate expenses he and Mommy - he and Beth - shared.  His mortgage,
her rent, both their utilities.  It would be easier and less expensive
if they _did_ live together, somehow.

"Oh, Mommy."

Robert sat down to put on his overshoes.  Beth always did this for him,
when they went outside, when she was playing the role of his Nanny.  In
fact, she'd dressed him often for whatever they were going to do.
Undressed him too, when they were playing together.  She never
complained though, and usually seemed to enjoy dressing him, feeding
him, caring for him.

'She must love me a lot to want to care for me,' the man thought.  For
once, he didn't disagree with himself.  You can't argue with facts, and
the fact was that Mom - that Beth! - cared for him pretty much
constantly when they were together, from her hug when she came to work
to her thoughtfully laying with him at the end of her shift to help him
get to sleep.

Wells put on his overcoat and headed out the door.  Sometimes a walk
helped sort out matters, and he needed to clear his head.  Headed down
the walk he put his hands in his pockets ... and promptly found two
surprises waiting in one of them.

The first was a lollipop.  Its bright red translucence advertised it as
cherry flavored - his favorite.  The second was a note, in Mommy's
pretty handwriting.  It read, "Hi Bobby!"  The man smiled; even her
notes seemed glad to see him.  He continued reading.  "Here is a treat
for my little boy to make going outside even more fun for you.  I love
you! - Mommy"

Robert Wells walked along the snow-covered road, enjoying his lollipop
and thinking.  Dispassionately, he examined the plan forming in his mind
while reading the note Beth left him.  Not all of it, just those last 4
words.  "I love you! - Mommy"

"Oh, Beth!"

Robert Wells fairly shouted into the phone.  He had come to a decision,
and couldn't wait to share it with her.  Wells only hoped Beth was as
fond of him as she kept saying she was.  "We have to talk when you come
in to work.  I've got something to ask you.  Something important."  He
hung up the phone, hoping the dear lady would check her voice-mail, and
got ready.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," the man said aloud as he called
another number.  'I can't believe I didn't do this the first time I saw
Mommy,' another, more passionate part of him thought as the phone rang
at the other end.  "Hello, Flora's Florists?  I would like to order a
dozen red roses.  If you can bring them to me now, I'm very willing to
pay extra."

Wells then looked through his desk.  It took a while of searching, as
the object of his search was hidden there for over a decade.  Finally,
he saw his treasure - a small grey felt box.  He hoped Beth liked
surprises.  This would be a big one.

Then he hastily did the dishes.  His dear Nanny made a point of doing
his housework.  In fact, the man hadn't done any cleaning or cooking
since she accepted the position.  Except all the times they played
"Mommy's Little Helper."  The man blushed at that memory.  But he wanted
Beth to have no housework, not today.  He didn't want her distracted
from his plan.

Wells went into the bedroom to change.  He'd promised Mommy he wouldn't
wear a suit unless she said he could, but this was a special occasion.
Off went his clothes, even his underwear.  Everything had to be fresh.
The man had to look his best.

After all, it wasn't every day that he proposed.

-- 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/leowulf/www/ <http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/leowulf/www/>
-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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