Robert Lubrican - A Model Mother

As I said, they were stupid, juvenile fantasies. My mother would have been horrified by them, because they objectified Maureen Gaskill out the wazoo. But I was only eighteen months from having been a juvenile, so I didn’t feel bad. And thinking of her naked helped me not think of my mother naked. As I stared at my naked mother. This was my first real taste of just how complicated life could get.

Anyway, I did get through it.

At the end of the three hours, the model got up, put her robe back on, and disappeared into a tiny dressing room in one corner of the studio. The rest of us cleaned up and packed up. As members of art lab, we had access to the studio any evening the building was open, and Mrs. Gaskill talked about what we should do between now and next Friday night, but all I could think of was my mom, in that room, putting on panties and a bra and then regular clothes.

I took my time cleaning up. I was still stiff in my pants and my mind was whirling, which may account for the fact that I didn’t see her come out of the dressing room and leave. So I was the last one out when I saw her waiting for me in the darkness, by the front doors of the building. My stressed mind supplied another fantasy, one in which she had stood there smiling and shaking hands, like people do with the pastor at the end of the service on Sunday. The students all told her how beautiful she was, or what a good model she was, and how delighted they were to be able to try to capture her sexuality, and she smiled and thanked them. I had to hand it to her. She looked as unruffled as could be.

"Bobby …" she said, in her deep voice.

"What the fuck, Mom?" I gasped.

"Let’s talk about this at home," she said. "Do you want a ride?"

I’d ridden my bike that day, but I could come back for it later. It was locked up and would be okay in the rack. Tonight, I wanted to go home with her. I probably wouldn’t be safe on the streets anyway. I was way too distracted to pay attention to traffic.

I didn’t look around as we stepped out of the building. I was going on auto pilot, just doing what she suggested I do. I had all these questions, but I didn’t know where to start. Obviously my mother had a secret life I knew nothing about. For years I had read comic books about people with secret identities, and hadn’t known I was living with one in real life! I was staring at her just trying to make myself believe it was really her. At this point I kind of hoped she was a doppelganger, and that somehow this would all come to make sense.

It was because I was staring at her, that I didn’t see three of my classmates coming towards us.

Don, Jerry, and Phil - it wouldn’t add anything to the story to supply their last names - were going to be firemen, like me. They’d obviously been drinking and were in high spirits.

"Are we too late?" yelled Phil, alerting me to their presence. "Did we miss her?"

It turned out Don had a friend who somehow knew that the art lab that semester involved a nude study and that the model was "hot", in his words. So they, being constantly horny, had come to a decision while they were drinking, that they needed to go see this hot, nude model.

Panic seized my chest.

"Is that her?" yelled Don. "Fuck, man, she really is hot!"

"Go away!" I screamed, like a little girl.

Yeah I know. I’m embarrassed to admit it, even now. That’s all I could come up with.

They stumbled on towards us. It was late, so the noise they were making didn’t really draw that much attention, but my panic wasn’t about who would see or hear them. It was about what they might see or hear when they got up to us. The last thing I needed was for these guys to find out that my mother posed naked for strangers. It would make an epic story, perhaps the most epic saga the fire science program had ever seen, and the instructors told some pretty crazy stories about events that had taken place over the years.

"Are these some of your friends?" asked my mother, her voice as normal as the day is long.

It was like the train wreck the engineer sees coming, but can’t do anything about. We just stood there, and they kept coming. I felt my mother’s hand on my elbow as Jerry surged ahead of the pack and lumbered up to stand, weaving slightly, in front of us.

"Dude!" he sighed, leaning forward slightly to peer at my mother. "She’s fuckin' gorgeous! "

"Thank you," said my mother. I could hear it in her voice. She was about to laugh! How could she laugh at a time like this? This was the end of my life, for Pete’s sake! I’d have to leave school. I’d have to go somewhere else, choose another profession. This story would end up bouncing around the entire industry!

Don and Phil caught up. Phil was the least drunk, apparently.

"Hey. Do you know her?" he asked. "Ricky told me the art class was painting some nude chick this year. Is this her?"

I understood exactly where that came from. She and I were the only other two people within a hundred yards and she had her hand through the crook in my arm.

"I … ah …" That’s it. That’s all that came from my throat.

"We’re old friends," said my mother.

My head turned of its own volition and I stared at her.

"When I was fifteen and he was a baby, I took care of him," she added.

"You were his fucking babysitter? " blurted Don.

"Something like that," she said, smoothly. "He was such a cute baby. I couldn’t help but fall in love with him, back then. And now he’s all grown up!"

"This is fucking awesome!" groaned Jerry.

So you got to see him naked, back then," observed Phil, "and now he gets to see you naked." He grinned as if he’d said the most profound thing in centuries.

"Not entirely naked," said my mother. "I was wearing lipstick."

My head swiveled all by itself again. She was smiling, like all this was some cute little game!

"Shit, man," sighed Jerry. "I’d give my right nut to be able to see my babysitter naked."

It suddenly occurred to me that my friends had foul mouths, and were apparently incapable of carrying on a normal, polite conversation.

"Watch your fucking mouth!" I blurted. I was suddenly angry. Somehow, things had flipped. I’d been worried about what they would think when they found out about my mother. Now I was suddenly ashamed of what my mother was finding out about my friends.

"It’s been delightful meeting you gentlemen," said Mom. "But Bobby and I have a lot of catching up to do, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to steal him away."

"She’s going to steal him away," sighed Don.

"She prolly needs to change his diaper!" yelled Jerry, gleefully.

"I have to warn you," said Phil, "His dick probably isn’t much bigger than the last time you saw it." He laughed and then grinned like an idiot. That’s because he was an idiot!

"We’ll see," said Mom, as if he wasn’t an idiot. "Are you boys going to be firemen, too?"

"Fuck yeah, we are," bragged Don.

"Well, then, you three take good care of him. He means a lot to me. I’d be devastated if he got hurt."

"She’d be devastated," sighed Don.

"We could come with you," said Phil, who seemed to sober up for an instant. "I’d love to hear stories about him as a baby."

"No, no," said my mother, squeezing my arm. "I want him all to myself."

"She wants him all to herself," sighed Don. "Fuck me to tears."

I was about to yell at them again when she said, just as cool as you please, "I don’t think so. In my experience, drunk men don’t make very good lovers."

She tugged my arm and led me towards the parking lot.

"You boys be good, now," she said, over her shoulder.

In our EMT training, we learned that some of the symptoms of shock are; rapid, shallow breathing, dizziness, weakness, anxiety, staring eyes, sweating and confusion. I had all those symptoms as my mother put me in her car and started it up. I didn’t need medical treatment, though. I just needed time.