“Well, I see you found the Hartford Military Catalog,” Mary says, approaching her son cautiously.
Tommy looks up from the catalog as his mother, Mary Elizabeth Drummond steps onto the Persian carpet and into the library. She is an attractive, tall, redheaded woman, fond of wearing formal ankle length dresses. She has the erect posture of an equestrienne. She is thin, but prominent breasts help round out her figure removing any doubt that she is female. Her pale white face with a light scattering of freckles contrasts nicely with her radiant sunset-red hair. There are a few wrinkles in the corners of her eyes and mouth but no other signs of her forty years of age. She is still wearing her wedding ring. Tommy knows this is for his benefit. The ring will come off as soon as he has departed for the Hartford-Abernathy Military Academy.
“What do you think?”
“I like the idea of building for the future,” Tommy says, with a controlled voice, paraphrasing the caption printed beneath the picture of the academy. By swallowing his anger, Tommy catches his mother off guard temporarily surprising her into silence.
Tommy Drummond is angry. He does not want to leave the twelve-room white Georgian house, surrounded by four acres of wooded pasture, where he grew up. He looks at the picture of the military academy selected by his mother. The caption says the Hartford-Abernathy Academy trains the leaders of tomorrow. Even at the age of 16, Tommy knows real leaders do not depend on military boarding schools to ensure their success. Real leaders create their own futures. Tommy knows he needs a plan to deal with his mother.
Expecting a protest, his mother automatically replies with a vague rebuttal. “You need the independence and being around other young men your age will help you develop.”
“I just hope I fit in,” says Tommy looking up at his mother with a worried expression to gain sympathy.
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” says his mother patting the back of his head with her hand.
“You leave tomorrow.”
Tommy can almost feel his mother’s heart skip with joy at how easy it is all turning out. He watches her bosom bounce as she leaves the library. The sharp staccato sound of his mother’s high heeled shoes clicking on the slate covered foyer punctuate her departure. His mother will have the house all to herself. After 18 years of marriage, his parents are divorcing.
Under the divorce property settlement, Mary Drummond will end up with the house and about four million in stocks. Her ex-husband, Charles Drummond, will keep his Overseas Investment Business valued at about seven million and the condominium in town. Not all of the monetary details have been resolved and the final papers have not been signed. Private detectives hired by both Mr. And Mrs. Drummond failed to find evidence of infidelity that might impact the division of assets. Even without digging up any family skeletons, the financial details could drag on for months. With adversarial divorce lawyers on both sides, Tommy knows he will be living at the military academy long before the details are resolved.
Two weeks later, returning from a solitary shopping trip, Mary Drummond, is surprised to hear her son playing the piano in the music room. His face reflects defeat and resignation. He stops playing when she enters the room, but impolitely continues staring into the sheet music.
“Tommy, why aren’t you at the Academy?”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I don’t fit in.”
“Do you need an increase in your expense account?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“OK, then tell me the problem,” Mary says sitting down beside her son on the piano bench and putting her arm around him. A light scent of an unfamiliar perfume fills Tommy’s lungs as he takes a deep breath to tell his story.
“Well, it’s like this,” explains Tommy. He tells his mother about an elite group called ‘The Officer’s Club’ that the other boys have formed. Once accepted into the club, your future at Hartford-Abernathy Academy is assured. Those not accepted are shunned with a code of silence. Students outside the clique are treated as if they did not exist. Not being a member makes matriculation at the Academy intolerable.
“Surely, there must be something you can do to be accepted,” his mother interrupts him.
Tommy looks up into his mother’s worried green eyes before answering. “I have been accepted, but first I must pass the initiation test.”
Mary frowns. “Dean Atkinson assured me that there are no hazing initiations anymore at the Academy. Hazing has been outlawed.”
“It’s not hazing, Mom.”
“Well, then be a man, and explain it to your mother,” Mary says, affectionately patting the back of Tommy’s head.
“I need to make a videotape with your camcorder, return to the Academy with it, and I’ll be accepted.”
“Well,” says Mary standing up with relief, “If there’s any way I can help you, just let me know.”
“Actually, you can help,” says Tommy.
“How?”
“The videotape is supposed to be about you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, the other boys saw the picture of you that I took to the Academy. They think you’re a very pretty woman.”
“Well, thank you,” says Mary who thinks she is very well preserved. She has not had any male appreciation of her appearance since the divorce started. She has been having self-doubts about her ability to compete with other women. It feels nice to be admired. It feels even better to be admired by your son’s young college prep roommates.
“They want me to videotape you…” Tommy pauses nervously fingering the keys on the piano. “They want a tape of you undressing,” he manages to say with a look of defeat on his face.
“What!”
“I told them I couldn’t,” says Tommy admitting defeat.
“Why would they want that?”
“Because I don’t have a sister.”
“So?”
“Well, the other boys have taken videotapes of their sisters.”
“Hum, I think I understand. This is sort of a candid camera thing, catch the girls unaware, like a peeping boy videotape, am I right?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
“What did they expect?”
“I was supposed to hide under your bed or in your closet and videotape you without your knowing.” Tommy hangs his head down in shame.
Mary pats the back of Tommy’s head in consolation. “You did the right thing. Don’t feel ashamed.” Tommy raises his head and stares into his mother’s breasts without answering.
Suddenly, Mary stops talking and leaves the room. Tommy is uncertain how to re-open the conversation. All during dinner, Mary looks at her son, Tommy, with long curious glances. Her face is a mystery. Does she pity him? Is she trying to think up an alternative to his initiation? Will she go along with it? Mary Drummond’s face is congenial and controlled as if her son Tommy had not made an indecent proposal. She does not seem offended or worried. It is impossible for Tommy to unmask his mother’s feelings.
After dinner, Mary asks Tommy into the library for a talk. He notices the furniture is re-arranged. His father’s books are gone, replaced with a collection of hand painted plates, the rosewood table was moved to the far end of the room to make room for a group of green leather chairs placed in a semi-circle. The entire atmosphere of the room has changed. In less than two weeks, it has become her room. When his mother picks up her wine glass, Tommy notices the pale white band of bare skin on her wedding ring finger. Tommy can feel his insides shaking.
Pouring herself another glass of white wine, Mary Elizabeth Drummond sits in one of the chairs in the small semi-circle and motions Tommy to sit beside her. Rotating the wine glass slowly between the fingers of her two hands, Mary starts speaking.
“If you bring back this videotape, are you certain to be accepted?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“Who will look at the videotape?”
“Just the other boys. Most of the other tapes used for initiation have already been recorded over with television shows.”
“Do you want to do it?”
“I’m not sure,” says Tommy playing coy.
“Yes, but what do you want?”
“It’s up to you,” says Tommy forcing his mother to decide.
As his mother pours herself a third glass of her wine. She licks her upper lip in thought. Tommy can tell that the idea of disrobing in front of a video camera excites her. Or maybe it is the thought of other mother’s sons watching her undress. He never considers the possibility that his mother might be excited by disrobing in front of her own son. Mary is finishing her fourth glass of wine before making her decision.
“If your father were here, I would say no.” Mary says slowly with the resolve of making a moral statement. “As the head of the family, the decision would be his and not mine. You have placed me in a difficult situation. I want you to be accepted. I want you to succeed at Hartford-Abernathy Academy. You need to develop into manhood among other young men. As a single mother, I cannot give you the same type of rearing as a two-parent family. It’s not easy for a divorced mother to raise a son.” She pauses sipping more wine, and begins on a new line of rationale as if she has lost her train of thought. “There’s nothing wrong with disrobing. Many families swim in the nude or use saunas without bathing suits. In Europe, there are nude beaches. It’s all in the perception. Will you think any less of me, as a mother, if I do what you ask?”
Sitting in the library, talking with his mother, Tommy feels himself getting aroused. This is the sexiest thing he has ever done. Still a child, planning to dominate a grown woman, his own mother. Watching and listening to her mental struggle to accept his demands intensifies his pleasure. It feels like a surge of pure energy, pure power sweeping through his body. He remembers his father talking about the thrill of power brokering, watching business adversaries struggle to make their actions justify their vanities. He knows his mother is vain, spending hours fussing with her hair, applying makeup, getting pedicures, and facial massages. He has known these things for years, but he has never tried to use her vanity against her like a weapon. Reveling in the sensation, it sucks him in, without letting go, like a whore’s mouth.
There is a long, silent pause before Tommy answers his mother’s question.
“I’ll always love you as my mother,” he answers with a vague reassurance. Tommy’s heart is beating uncontrollably. He cannot believe his plan is working. He is afraid something will go wrong.
Mary Drummond takes her son, Tommy, by the hand and together they go upstairs to her bedroom. While she primps in front of the bathroom mirror, he sets up the camcorder.
Mary Drummond looks stunning. She has applied blue eye shadow and eyelash liner to accent her green eyes. Her red hair is brushed out, shining with a burnishing glow that is complemented by her glossy coral lipstick. She is fully dressed in high-heeled shoes, with a full-length coat covering a black evening dress topped off with a white mink stole, and hat. She looks like a socialite ready to depart for a formal concert on a winter’s night. With a nod toward Tommy, she asks, “Are you ready?”
“Ready,” says Tommy, lifting the camcorder to his eye.
Mary begins silently as if she were alone. Removing her hat and coat, she shakes out her hair. She drops the hat and coat onto the chair. She pulls on one end of the fur stole until it unwraps, falling free from her neck, and drapes it over the back of the chair. Turning sideways, her profile facing the camera, she rests her high-heeled shoe on the seat of the chair. She slowly unbuckles the tiny black strap crossing her ankle, letting her dress ride up over her thigh. Bending over facing the camera, she gives a fleeting glimpse of her breasts beneath the top of her dress as she removes her shoes.
Standing in her stocking feet, Mary turns until she is looking straight into the camcorder. Flirting with the camera, she pretends to be looking at herself in a mirror as she removes her gold hooped earrings. She tosses her head back, smiling directly into the camera. She runs the tip of her tongue over her upper lip as if she were tasting her coral red lipstick. Tommy zooms the camera in on his mother’s face as she pouts her lips into a kiss and says, “Do you want to see more?”
After a dramatic pause, Mary starts unbuttoning the front of her dress. She continues until reaching her waist. She stops and looks up again, directly at the camera, and says “Are you sure you want to see more?” Her face breaks into a dazzling smile. With her right hand she loosens the belt around her waist. She pulls it out of the belt loops with her left hand. Holding the belt buckle with both hands between her legs like a golf club, she lets the tongue dangle onto the carpet. Gently swinging it back and forth, she looks up, and raises her eyebrows in a mock expression of surprise saying, “It’s a long one.”
Dropping the belt on the floor, Mary reaches up underneath her dress, bending over, turning her bottom to the camera pulling her pantyhose down to her knees. Swiveling around to face the camera, she raises her right foot directly into the lens giving a glimpse underneath her dress. Standing on one foot, she works the pantyhose off her right leg. Switching feet, the camera gets a brief view of her panties, as she raises her left leg to remove the pantyhose. Mary bends over to pick the pantyhose off the floor and lay it over the back of the chair.
Standing up straight, Mary begins working her dress down over her left shoulder. With one side of her bra exposed, Mary teases the camera saying “OOPS! I forgot to unbutton my sleeves.” Shrugging her dress back onto her shoulder, she unbuttons both of the sleeves on her dress. “OK, now we’ll try that again,” Mary says slipping her arm out of the dress and pulling it down over her shoulder. She repeats the process with the other arm until her dress is hanging from her waist with her bra fully exposed. Hooking her thumbs under the dress at her waist, Mary starts wiggling back and forth, seductively, to squirm out of her dress. She suddenly stops squirming. Pursing her lips together, she gives the camera a loud smooching kiss. Looking into the camera, she smiles and says “OOPS! You wouldn’t want me to take off my panties too.” Reaching down, she pulls up the edge of her white lace panties with her fingertips before continuing to pull her dress down over her hips. She lets the dress fall to the floor. Bending to pick it up, she bares her rear end to the camera’s unblinking eye and the frame blossoms with a view of her white laced panties.
Walking toward the closet, she opens the door and disappears briefly before returning with a long single piece silk nightgown. She holds it up by the shoulder straps, gathers it together to slip it over her head. Without warning, she stops and lays the silk nightgown down on the chair. Shaking her red hair back and forth, she holds her index finger over her lips as if cautioning someone to be quiet and says, “Oh, you naughty boys. You want more don’t you?” She lowers her finger and hugs herself with both arms, cradling her breasts together, for maximum cleavage. “Hum! What do you think I should do?” Mary says rotating her shoulders back and forth smiling like a woman half her age.
Tommy is lost. He is transfixed by this striptease. It has gone far beyond anything he might have imagined. Afraid of thinking of his mother in sexual terms, he stops thinking. Emotionally, he is frozen. The camcorder is his savior. It frames the actions, objectifying them, making them emotionally distant. The lens sucks in the performance. Tommy activates the zoom instinctively. The recording is automatic without Tommy’s conscious effort. On a deeper level, he comforts himself with the knowledge that his mother is playing to the camera, playing to the unknown young men who she thinks will be admiring her body, and not performing for him.
Slowly, with a deliberation filled with suspense, Mary uses her left hand to push her right bra strap off her shoulder. She turns and loosens her left bra strap. Turning her back to the camera, she unhooks the back of her bra. Facing back toward the camera, bra straps dangling, she cups her breasts in the palms of her hands to keep the brassiere in place.
Tommy does not remember his mother exposing her breasts, or letting the bra drop to the floor. She wiggles the silken nightgown down over her head before he regains his sense of time and place. Tommy is numb.
The next morning, after his mother departs on a shopping trip, Tommy sets the Sony camcorder on a tripod to tape himself in her bedroom. With the camcorder on full zoom, he jerks off until he cums.
In the afternoon, Tommy entices three of his neighborhood friends to participate in a video project. They sit on his mother’s bed mugging for the camcorder with expressions of surprise, and enthusiasm. Tommy prompts them on what to say. In return for refusing to talk about the video taping, they all receive some first edition comics in mint condition.
The following week, after Tommy has returned to the military academy, Mary Drummond is puzzled by the sound of young men’s voices coming from the Home Theater Room.
Her first fear is that Tommy has returned. For Mary Drummond, the reality is much worse. Entering the Video Theater Room, she is stunned by the picture on the television screen.
She stands frozen in the doorway, watching something that she knows never happened. Mary watches herself on the 62″ inch screen doing a striptease while her son, Tommy, is sitting in a corner chair masturbating, and three young boys are lounging on her bed making encouraging comments.
She turns off the sound, but lets the tape run watching a silent scene unfold that she knows in her heart is impossible. The film repeats itself in a loop before Mary realizes it has been cleverly edited.
Tommy Drummond stands up in his front row seat.
“You bastard!”
Mary Elizabeth Drummond hits the eject button on the VCR. She throws the cassette to the floor and smashes it with her high heeled shoe. The black case breaks open with a loud cracking sound of brittle plastic.
“It’s just a copy, Mom”
“There was no initiation, was there?”
“No, Mom.”
“You bastard!”
“I know. I’ve been bad.”
“Has your father, Charles, seen this?”
“No.”
“Thank God!”
“But he might…”
“You bastard! The divorce papers haven’t been signed yet.”
“I know.”
“Your father could end up with almost everything.”
“I know.”
“What do you want?”
Tommy wants to say he will destroy the videotape if his mother lets him quit the Academy and live at home, but his voice chokes up with emotion.
“I want you…” Tommy manages to say.
Tommy hangs his head down, his nerve lost, thinking he has failed. His mother walks over to him and reaches out with one hand. Tommy thinks she is going to slap him, but she pats him on the back of his head, and moves away. When he raises his head, Tommy sees his mother is starting to undress.