Robert Lubrican - A Model Mother

"What are you doing, Jenkins?" asked one of my classmates named Todd. "I was talking to her."

"She’s my old babysitter," I said. "I just need to talk to her for a minute."

" This is her?" asked Todd, his eyes wide. He’d heard all about "my old babysitter" from the three stooges, but hadn’t put two and two together. "Shit, man!" he rasped.

I had to put my arm around her as I led her away. It felt odd, yet normal at the same time, for my hand to be on her waist. I took her toward the patio, which Mickey called "The beer garden." It was chilly outside, but a lot more quiet. She backed up to a trellis and leaned against it.

"I shouldn’t be here," she moaned.

"You’re doing fine," I said.

"I don’t know what to do."

"Just be yourself."

"How can I do that? Maureen re-invented me as Jennifer Hart! I’m living a secret identity!"

"What’s that about, anyway?" I asked.

"I told her who you are," she said.

"What?"

"I had to," she said, reaching to touch my elbow. "When I took that job, I had to sign a form that said I wouldn’t flirt or exchange personal information with students. It could cause her problems. So I had to explain and see if it was all right."

"So she changed your last name?"

"She said you show so much promise that we can’t let this derail you."

"Mom, you basically told her I come there to see you naked!" I hissed.

"I worried about that, but she put me at ease."

"And how did she put you at ease?" I asked.

"She says lots of artists have painted their mothers nude. She made it sound like it’s no big deal."

"But she gave you a secret identity."

"She didn’t want to cause you problems," she explained.

"Well, I guess I owe her for that," I admitted. "Are you at least having fun?"

"I don’t know," she said. "Sort of, I guess. But I don’t know how to act."

"Like I said, just be yourself."

Erica, another of my classmates, came outside with a beer. She gripped the front of her shirt and fanned it back and forth.

"Who thought line dancing would work up that kind of sweat!" she said. She saw who else was out there and came over to us.

"So you’re the woman he gets to see naked," she said, boldly.

"I suppose I am," said Mom.

"You must be very brave. I could never do that … stand there naked in front of a bunch of strangers."

"It’s actually a little boring," said Mom.

"Not for him, I bet," grinned Erica. "And you were really his babysitter?"

"I changed his diaper hundreds of times," said my mom without a pause.

Erica gave us a calculating look.

"Some people say there’s something going on between you two."

"They do?" asked Mom.

"It’s none of my business," said Erica. "But he’s a good guy. Of course, if you are involved with him, you already know that."

"I do," said my mother. I think it was just an automatic response, but Erica’s eyebrows went up.

"You dog," she said, looking at me. "I’m going to dance some more. See you later."

This is how a rumor, spread by the three stooges, can gain traction, and new "evidence" of a relationship be discovered. Erica was just as much of a rumor monger as the rest of us. All she had to do was whisper, "He really is doing her!" to three or four people, and by the time the night was over, everybody was convinced I fucked my mother … I mean Jennifer Hart.

Maureen Gaskill knew how to have fun. I’ll give her that. And she knew how to share that fun. The line dancing soon involved more people than the dance floor would hold, but that was okay. The people who weren’t dancing drank, and that made Mickey happy. My mother got dragged onto the floor and taught - despite her pleas that she wasn’t a dancer - how to do the steps. An hour later, she looked like a natural. I got taught, too. When we weren’t dancing, we tended to stand or sit together. It wasn’t to show we were a "couple". It was just natural, I think. But it reinforced the idea that we were a couple.

Phil forgave me, because Maureen Gaskill teased him all night long, and then left the bar with him. They were both weaving. I went outside and snagged her keys, telling them I’d call a cab. I didn’t have to. One turned and came up the street and I flagged it down. Word had gotten around that fares could be had that night at Kelsey’s. I was somewhat astonished to see, as the cab pulled away, that Phil had a lip-lock on the best looking woman he’d ever gone out with.

Note of interest. When I later asked him how his night went, Phil was uncharacteristically circumspect about it. I knew he didn’t get shot down. He wasn’t acting like that. I suspect she told him if he wanted another shot at her, she’d better not hear any lurid details of how he spent the night. All I got out of him was that he did spend the night. I had other information, but we’ll get to that later.

And, of course, I went home with Jennifer.

It occurred to me, as we went into the house together, that it was now imperative that nobody in my class ever find out where I lived. That hadn’t mattered before. People knew I lived at home. Fire science isn’t the kind of crowd that has study groups. Sometimes people hang out in dorm rooms, but it’s more to talk and drink than study. So it wasn’t likely I had to worry about anyone wanting to come to my house for a study session. But still, if anybody did, it would turn into a full-blown scandal.

My mom turned around and hugged me. That wasn’t unusual. She’d hugged me a thousand times over the years. But this time I felt her soft breasts crush against my chest, and smelled her hair. She’d drunk a lot more than I had, mainly because guys kept wanting to buy her drinks. At least until the word got around she was "mine" and that nobody else had a chance.

"I can’t believe I did that," she sighed into my neck.

"Did you have fun?"

"I had a blast," she sighed. "I missed so much."

"I have a feeling you’ll always be welcome at Kelsey’s," I said.

She pulled away, without releasing me with her hands. Her eyes were round.

"Bobby! People think we have sex together!"

"You can thank the three stooges for that rumor," I said.

"Who?"

"Phil, Don and Jerry," I said.

Her eyes lost focus as her mind went somewhere else.

"Maureen is going to be very naughty tonight."

"She is?"

" Shhhhh," said my mom, putting a fingertip to her lush lips. "It’s a secret! "

"With Phil?" I asked. I felt her loins bump against mine.

"She might find out if he’s lying or not," she said.

"Lying about what?"

"You know," she said. She leaned to whisper right in my ear. "His ginormous pecker!"

"I think maybe you’re ready for bed," I said.

"I think so too," she sighed.

I herded her towards her bedroom. I didn’t want her to stumble and fall. When we got there I got conflicting signals about how tipsy she was. She turned and looked at me.

"Are you going to put me to bed tonight … like last week?"

I had been in a fluctuating state of arousal all night. Just watching her dance gave me a hardon, as her breasts bounced gently under her blouse, or she turned and her perfect ass in those tight jeans came into view. I’d also had some drinks, and maybe that lowered my inhibitions.

"Do you want me to?" I asked.

She lowered her lashes.

"I think I do," she said.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t think about the moral issues, or potential consequences. I just went to her and got her naked. She stood there, not helping in any way. I had to manipulate her arms to get her blouse off. I had to tug and pull repeatedly to get her tight jeans down, taking care not to pull her panties down with them, this time. She did put her hands on my head as I knelt, lifting each foot to let me remove the jeans leg from it. I stood back up and reached around her to fumble with the clasp of her bra, which was white and utilitarian. She didn’t flinch as I removed it, sliding the straps down her arms. she didn’t cover her breasts, or complain when I just stood there and stared at her breasts.