A Proposal Most Indecent 01

"Hi, Fran." Sam hugged Francine as she walked into his house. "Where's Will?"

"He's still at work." Francine returned his hug then slipped out of her coat. She handed the expensive but plain garment to - what should she call the professionally bland woman standing behind her friend? Servant? Maid? Butler? "You may be his richest client, Sam, but you're not his only one. He called and told me to meet him here."

"Oh." Sam's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. Francine thought it supremely unfair a man in his mid fifties still had a full head of dark, thick hair. Her husband, ten years Sam's junior, was balding and almost totally gray.

"Wait, Miss . . ." Sam made a vague gesture toward the woman who took Francine's coat. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Miss is fine, Mr. North." The woman paused on her way out of the room. "How can I help?"

Francine stifled a grin. Sam liked to know the people who worked for him and Miss was a direct challenge. He'd ferret out her name by the end of the night.

"Will you please tell Cleo, um, Mrs. North, that Francine Windstone is here."

"Yes, sir." Miss turned on a professional heal and carried Francine's coat to the cloakroom. Francine didn't know why Sam insisted on calling the closet in the foyer a cloakroom.

"Is she new?"

"She's part of the staff I hired for tonight," said Sam, confirming her suspicion.

"Let me guess, it's a small start-up who makes a point of hiring underprivileged people."

"You know me too well. But don't think poor people can't be capable and professional. Being poor does not mean-."

"-being stupid," said Francine, finishing his sentence. "Don't forget, twenty years ago me and William were poor. You rescued us, too."

"I did not rescue you. I saw Will's talent before anyone else, and took advantage of it. You'd have made your fortune without me, I have no doubt."

This argument was old and comfortable. Francine couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. This time, however, it tugged with a hint of sadness. She wanted to carry on with the familiar script but something forced her to talk about an underlying insecurity that grew over the past few years. "I only wish I had more to offer you and William. I'm just the stay at home mom."

Sam's mouth fell open. "Is that what you think?" He started to smile, anticipating a punch line. He must have read the truth in her face because his eyebrows slammed together over his angular nose and his mouth drew into a tight line. Sam opened his mouth but a shrill voice interrupted him.

"Oh. My. God. What are you wearing?" Cleo's light soprano climbed into a painful falsetto.

In spite of Francine's desire to voice her insecurity, she was glad for the interruption. This was supposed to be a party, it wasn't the time to unload her emotions on her best friends.

"It's the same thing I wore last time." Francine looked down at her conservative skirt suit. "I admit it's not flattering and more suited to a boardroom, but it's what William likes me to wear."

"If that's true, the man is blind. Or stupid. You have the body of a woman ten years younger, but your outfit makes you look twenty years older. Come with me."

"Why?"

"We're going to put you in something more suitable. And flattering." Cleo held out her hand waiting for Francine to take it and be led away.

"I appreciate the gesture, but there's no time. You have guests here and I'm sure more will be arriving."

"I don't have guests here, but you're right, they'll be arriving. In an hour." Cleo grinned her wide toothy smile that made her look like a pixy queen. "I knew you'd come dressed in something horrible so I tricked you into coming an hour early. We have plenty of time to put you in something appropriate."

"That's not a good idea. William likes me dressed like this."

"Fuck Will." Cleo, tired of waiting, grabbed Francine's hand and tugged her toward the stairs.

"You might as well go," said Sam. "You know how much she works out. She's strong enough to carry you if she wants."

Francine knew Cleo exercised like a fiend to keep her model's figure, but it wasn't her physical strength that bore her up the stairs. Cleo's personality carried people away without anyone knowing quite how they ended up doing what Cleo wanted them to do. Francine let Cleo drag her up the stars and down the long hall. She wondered how many rooms this hotel sized home had, but Cleo claimed she didn't know. She probably didn't.

"Guest room?" Francine asked, when they walked into a well furnished but generic room. She didn't see Cleo using a room like this for personal space. "For tonight it's a beauty salon. I'm giving you a make-over. First off, get out of that ugly, ugly suit."

"This isn't necessary." Francine eyed the daunting array of makeup laid out on a vanity.

"Nonsense." Cleo reached for the large button on Francine's jacket but Francine pushed her hands away. "I want to ask you a question." Cleo put her arms on Francine's shoulders and stared deep into her eyes. "When was the last time you got laid?"

Francine barked out a nervous laugh and looked away. "That's rather personal."

"I know, but I'm your friend and it's painfully obvious your marriage isn't working. I'm guessing it's been years."

Francine looked away, unable to meet Cleo's eye. "Not since I got pregnant with Tilly." Francine felt Cleo's shock and turned away. "At first it was fine, I was so tired with Tilly and Matt I didn't miss it and it sort of became a habit. Then when I tried to start our sex life again, William didn't want any."

"The man is an idiot. No, I take that back. You're an idiot. No man past puberty wouldn't want you." Cleo started on the button again and this time Francine let her. "Tonight we'll do something about that. One way or another I'll prove how beautiful you are." Cleo peeled off the jacket and threw it on the floor on the far side of the room. "There's the bathroom. Go wash off your make-up and get your hair wet."

"Cleo, this isn't a good idea. William likes how I look."

"Does he? Think about it. Does he compliment you? Does he look at you with love and desire? Does he even smile at you?"

Francine looked at the floor unable to speak the truth. Instead she went into the bathroom and followed Cleo's instructions. When she came out of the bathroom Cleo laid out a red dress on the bed. It looked slinky and way too small.

"Good. Now we can get-." Cleo turned and gaped at Francine.

"What?" Every insecurity Francine had boiled to the surface. Did she look so bad with no make-up and wet hair? "I knew this was a mistake." She turned to go hide in the bathroom but Cleo stopped her before she took a step.

"I hate you!" Cleo's words sounded harsh, but something in her voice stopped Francine. She turned back to her friend who still stared at her.

"Cleo, what's going on? You're confusing me. It thought . . . I mean . . . what?"

"You really don't know, do you?" The older woman shook her head in wonderment. "Come here and look in the mirror."

Francine stood in front of the mirror and saw . . . herself. "What am I supposed to see?"

"Now you're being mean." Cleo stood behind Francine and rested her cheek on Francine's shoulder. "You're even more beautiful. Without your makeup."

Francine felt herself start to blush. She didn't feel beautiful but Cleo's tone of voice and expression said she believed it.

"If I didn't know better, and maybe I don't, I'd swear you used makeup to hide your beauty instead of accenting it."

"It's the way-."

"Stop saying it's the way Will likes it. Something is definitely wrong between you if he likes you to look less attractive than you are. I mean, really, no normal man in the history of the world ever wanted his wife to be less attractive than she is. If that was the case, plastic surgeons would be flipping burgers."

Francine chuckled and felt some of the tension lift.

"Your smile is salt in the wound. It takes me forever to look as good as I do, then you smile and I'm the ugly duckling again." Cleo gave Francine a peck on the cheek then backed up. "Finish stripping. We're going to doll you up until Will wants to take you on the ballroom floor in front of everyone."

"That will never happen!" Francine chuckled at the image and felt more of her tension ease away. What would it hurt to have Cleo change her look? So what if Will scowled? Maybe, just maybe he'd like it and things might get better between them.

"Because of you or because of Will?"

"God!" Francine laughed as she unfastened her skirt. "Both!"

"What the hell is that?" Cleo's scream startled Francine. She dropped her skirt and looked around for a mouse or spider. "Granny panties? Are you fucking kidding me? Granny panties?"

"They're-."

"They're a travesty to nature and an insult to womankind." Cleo thrust out a hand. "Give them to me."

"But-."

"No buts, give them to me." Cleo snapped her fingers for emphasis.

"I hope you have something for me to wear." Francine pushed the white cotton garment down her legs and handed it to her friend. Cleo wadded it up and threw it in the wastebasket. "Hey, nothings wrong with those!"

"You're so wrong. Everything is wrong with those. Never wear them again."

Francine rolled her eyes but finished undressing. At least Cleo didn't throw her other undergarment in the garbage, although she didn't treat it with respect either.

"We'll start with your makeup." Cleo put a towel on the chair in front of the vanity. "Sit."

Francine hesitated. "Don't you have a robe or something for me to wear?"

"You look fine naked. No, you look fucking amazing naked. No woman who's had two kids should look as hot as you. You've got bigger boobs than me but they droop less. How the hell did you manage that? It's not fair."

Francine looked down at her breasts and smiled. She liked them, which made her different from most women she knew. They were larger than average and if not perky, they still had good shape with nipples facing forward instead of down.

"We'll have to do something about your bush, though."

"What? Why?" Francine looked further down to where her pubic hair nestled between her thighs.

"Because it says something about how you view your body."

"You have got to be kidding me." Francine stared up at her friend expecting a punch line.

"I shit you not." Cleo bent down and ran a hand up Francine's leg from ankle to thigh. "Smooth and silky there." Next the grabbed Francine's wrist and lifted her arm over her head then traced her fingers along Francine's under arm.

Francine squealed and jerked away. "That tickled!"

"Smooth there too. You cut your hair, wear makeup and wear nice, if unattractive clothes. The point is you spend time grooming yourself. Except one area. It's like you're telling yourself certain parts of your body don't matter to you."

"Don't be ridiculous. People see my legs and hair. People see my clothes. No one sees my . . . down there."

Cleo rolled here eyes. "That's what I'm talking about. You can't even name it. You should have said no one sees your pussy. Hell, you could even say your vagina, if pussy is too crude for you. But "down there?" It's like you don't even want to acknowledge you have sex organs."

Francine opened her mouth to protest but she realized Cleo was right. When did that happen? She cherished making love to Will and now she had trouble naming parts of her own body?

"Besides," Cleo continued, "at least one person should be looking there, right? I'm not saying your marriage troubles are your fault, don't even go there. Have you ever considered the way you treat your pussy, like it's something shameful?"

Again Francine opened her mouth to protest and again, she realized Cleo might have a point. However, she couldn't imagine what Cleo wanted to do about it.

"Don't worry," said Cleo, grinning. "We won't worry about that tonight. That's an issue for another time. Right now, lets work on your makeup." Cleo studied the array of tools and colors she prepared and pursed her lips. "Yes, this will do perfectly." She grabbed a wand and the transformation began.

It took surprisingly little time for Cleo to apply the makeup. She put on lipstick that complimented the dress and some subtle eyeliner and shadow.

"There, that should do it." Cleo studied her handiwork in the mirror and nodded in satisfaction.

"You finished fast." Francine turned her head from side to side admiring the results. She started to see what Cleo meant. It took a lot of effort for Francine to look at herself objectively, but she saw a beautiful woman in the mirror. Hiding it on purpose might be why William didn't want to make love to her anymore.

"Now the hair." Cleo studied Francine in the mirror. "I intended to do something fancy with it. You've got the face for bangs and waves, but looking at you like this, I think pulling it back in a French braid will work the best. You'll put everything on display and show off the new you." Cleo combed her fingers through Francine's hair. Francine didn't like the way Cleo said "putting everything on display," as she eyed the dress. It looked way too small for her. It looked more suited to Cleo's svelte frame than Francine's body shape. Francine was far from overweight, but she had lots of curves. Of course the dress might look small since it lay on the bed.

Cleo's hands working through her hair lulled Francine into a relaxed trance. She was about half way through braiding Francine's hair when a knock at the door startled a squeak out of her. She covered her breasts with her hands and stared wide eyed at Cleo.

"Relax." Cleo rolled her eyes ad sighed. "It's Karen, our housekeeper. She's delivering a message. Here, hold this." Cleo grabbed Francine's wrist and guided it over her head where Cleo wanted her to hold the braid. "Hmm, you better use both hands." Francine reached up and held the braid where Cleo indicated. "Whatever you do, don't let go. My hands are killing me and it's too much work to start over."

Francine tightened her grip as she watched Cleo walk to the door. She expected her friend to open it a crack for Karen to deliver the message. Instead she pulled the door wide open and stepped back giving Karen - and anyone else in the hall - an unobstructed view of her naked body. Karen started to speak but paused when she saw Francine. Francine felt like a deer in the headlights, unable to move. Her eyes went wide and she knew her mouth hung open in a decidedly unattractive manner. Karen didn't look surprised or afraid or embarrassed. Her lips pulled into a small, admiring smile. She tipped her head at Francine in appreciation of what she saw. That smile, that tip of the head gave Francine a disproportionate sense of confidence. She also felt something unexpected. Down in the pit of her stomach she felt . . . not arousal, but more like the anticipation of arousal. She smiled back at Karen and tilted her head to say thank you.

Francine turned back to the mirror and watched the women's reflection. She didn't hear what Karen said but heard Cleo say thank you. Cleo closed the door and returned to braiding Francine's hair.

"Don't think I didn't see that little exchange. You liked her looking at you." Cleo grinned at Francine in the mirror.

"I did not!" Even to her own ears, Francine's denial sounded reflexive and false.

"Liar. You also liked that she liked what she saw. Karen is in her early twenties. How does it feel to know a woman less than half your age thinks you're hot?"

"It wasn't like that!" Faint patches of red filled Francine's cheeks.

"My god, it turned you on!"

"No." This time Francine's denial was the truth. "But it felt good. No one has looked at me like I'm attractive in a long time." She sighed as her smile faded. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's all my fault."

Cleo yanked her hair hard enough to make Francine yelp. "That is not what I said. In fact I specifically said the exact opposite. You had two children and I saw first hand how tired you were. It simply turned into a habit, and tonight we'll break that habit once and for all." Cleo slipped back and admired her handiwork. "All done! What do you think?"

Francine almost didn't recognize herself. She looked stunning even if she did say so herself. Plus it was so much faster and easier than her normal routine. "I don't know what to say."

"Say you like it."

"I love it!"

"Good. Now it's time for the dress." Cleo held up the red dress and once again Francine thought it looked too small.

"What about underwear?"

"It's built in." Cleo turned the top inside out to show the built in bra.

"So that's how you wear strapless dresses all the time and still look supported."

"My secret is out!" Cleo rolled her eyes, emphasizing her sarcasm. "What, did you think, I went braless all the time?"

"To be honest, I didn't put much thought into it." Francine stepped into the dress and pulled it up into place. The thin shoulder straps made her feel naked; she never wore anything so light, but the support of the bra made her feel properly covered.

"You're wearing it wrong." Cleo adjusted the straps and how the garment rested on her. Then, to Francine's shock, she reached into the top and grabbed Francine's breasts to move them around. If she hadn't been so surprised, she'd have pushed Cleo away. As it was, Cleo moved so quick, it was over before Francine realized she'd been felt up by her best friend. Her nipples tightened in pleasurable response but the fact her best friend's touch aroused her was disturbing.

"There, all done." Cleo led her to a full length mirror. "What do you think?"

The vision of seductive beauty brought a gasp out of Francine. She hadn't looked this beautiful since the day she got married. The red dress fit her like a second skin. It hugged all her curves and accentuated her hourglass figure. It also left more of her breasts on display than she felt comfortable with. The slit up the front is what she found objectionable. It went from the bottom of the floor length gown to the top of her thigh. Definitely too high for anything approaching decency. If she wasn't careful, she'd flash her underwear to all and sundry. Speaking of underwear . . .

"Cleo, where are the panties? You said this had built in underwear."

"The bra's built in, but on a dress this tight you can't wear panties."

"What? No. No way am I walking around without panties. Especially in this dress. I'll be flashing my privates to everyone!"

"You're overreacting." Cleo locked her arm around Francine's and pulled her toward the door.

"I am not!" Francine managed to dig her heals into the carpet and stopped Cleo.

"Oh my god, I almost forgot your shoes." Cleo released Francine and held up a pair of stiletto healed red pumps. "Menolo Blancs!"

"I'm sure they're very nice, but I won't go to a party with a bare . . . "

"Bare what?" Cleo's teasing smile pushed Francine beyond her restraints.

"Bare pussy! There. Are you happy? I said it. I'll say it again to make sure you heard right. I won't go out there with a bare pussy!"

"You don't have a bear pussy, you haven't shaved yet."

"Stop it, Cleo. I don't mind the way you made me up, but if I go out there like this, every man and woman who sees me will think I'm a whore."

That wiped the grin off Cleo's face. "Is that what you think of me when I dress like that? Do you think I'm a whore?"

"No, of course not! But you're . . . you. It fits your personality. You could walk down there in stockings and high heals and no one would think differently of you."

"Then what makes you think they'll see you differently?"

"This isn't who I am. Everyone knows I'm the frumpy conservative house wife of an accountant. You're the free spirit party girl. People like us for what we are."

"You're wrong. People out there like me because I'm rich. I grew up as poor as you and you know what? If you think you're a frumpy housewife, you're lying to yourself." Cleo moved in front of Francine and rested her hands on her shoulders. Francine felt the cool leather from the shoes on her bare skin. "In all the time I've known you I've only seen you happy a few times that didn't involve your kids. Each of those times you acted like a free spirit." She walked past Francine and picked the jacket off the floor. "This isn't you, this is who Will has made you be."