Mommy, Inc.

Coming Home

It was Christmas. Not Christmas Day or Christmas Eve but Christmas Season. Light snow fell as he walked down the street. All the houses were decorated. Some with lights. Some with blow-up figures in the yard or on the roof. Some with fake icicles, which seemed a little odd since there were plenty of real icicles on the houses.

He turned the corner. All the houses on the block were decorated except one. The house he was heading for. The house he had grown up in. He wasn't disappointed or surprised. The house had never been decorated for any holiday. His mother had always been too busy.

"Or too drunk. Or too cheap," he thought.

His mother, Miriam, was supposed to pick him up at the bus station but she hadn't been there. He hadn't bothered calling. It was easier to walk a mile in the snow than to get his mother to pick him up. Besides, it was his last year of college, his last Christmas break, his last time having to walk home in the snow.

By next year, he hoped to have a job and a place of his own. A place he could decorate for Christmas, even if a cardboard Santa and a single strand of lights were all he might be able to afford. A place his younger brother could visit for the holidays. A place that might feel like a real home.

He stood at the end of the front walk. The house was dark except for one window downstairs and one upstairs. The living room and his mother's bedroom.

He could see the flicker of the TV through the curtains. His brother, no doubt. Eddie would be watching a Christmas movie. Twas the season. His brother always sought out his favorites, sometimes watching them several times. But if a favorite wasn't on TV, he would watch anything with a Christmas theme. Eddie might be 18, but when it came to Christmas, he was still a little boy at heart.

Michael looked at the light in his mother's window.

"I wonder if she's awake and waiting for me?"

He doubted it. Odds were his mother was already asleep. When she didn't have a date, it was her habit to get drunk early and go to bed. Or pass out. The other option was that she was entertaining a date. And by 'entertaining', Michael meant fucking. It was the one thing she seemed to do well.

A shadow passed across the window shade, and a few moments later the front door opened. A man stepped out onto the porch. That it was no one he recognized wasn't really a surprise. There were a few men his mother 'dated' regularly, but most were strangers picked up in various dive bars.

The man pulled his collar up and his hat down. He didn't look at Michael as he passed by. The smell of cheap whiskey lingered in the air after the man was gone. The stranger stood on the sidewalk and looked both ways as if he wasn't sure which direction to go. With a decisive nod, he trundled off toward downtown.

Michael went inside. His brother, Eddie, greeted him with enthusiasm. The Jimmy Stewart movie was on, the one with Clarence the angel. It was one of Eddie's favorites. For Michael and Eddie, it was a Christmas tradition. For mom, not so much.

Michael promised to return to watch the end as soon as he unpacked and said 'hello' to his mother.

He put his suitcase in his room. Underwear and socks were stuffed in a dresser drawer. Shirts and pants he'd unpack later. Or maybe not. He might not stay long enough to make it worth the time to unpack.

"Oh, of course I'll stay," he sighed, resigned.

He wasn't going to leave his brother alone at Christmas.

Michael strode down the short, shabby carpet that had been in the hall for as long as he could remember. He pushed the door open to his mother's room. No need to knock.

She lay on the bed, just a sheet covering her. A bare leg hung off the bed. Her bra and panties lay on the floor, a dress tossed on a chair. A mostly empty whiskey bottle was on the dresser. Ten minutes after her 'date' left and she was snoring.

"Merry Christmas, mother," he said flatly, neither merry nor angry.

Michael went downstairs to catch the end of the movie. He gave Eddie a bag. Inside was popcorn, cranberries, needles, and thread. The makings for Christmas garlands. There were also two chocolate Santas. Eddie grinned.

"Tis the season."

"I'll go to the store tomorrow and see about Christmas dinner."

Michael had some money. Probably more than his mother. He had a scholarship to school, worked part-time, and was frugal.

It was ten in the morning when his mother came down. She was wearing a pink robe, loosely tied. Her hair was wet. The only makeup was some lipstick, poorly applied.

"At least she showered," he thought. When she went on a bender, she could go days without a shower.

His mother kissed him. He rubbed off the red smudge he knew was on his cheek. She patted his head as if he was five. Michael suffered in silence. Complaining would do no good.

"Did you have breakfast? I can make you breakfast."

Miriam rooted through the cabinets for something to eat. When she bent over, Michael could almost see her ass. She gave up her search for breakfast after finding an empty cereal box. She got a cup of coffee and lit a cigarette.

When she sat, the belt of the robe came undone. She didn't seem to notice. Her breasts were mostly visible. No doubt her bra was still on the floor in her room. Michael was sure her panties were there also, but he didn't try to confirm it.

His father had left years before. He had taken off with a waitress from the diner in town. His father was 34, the waitress was 18. She was going to be a big star in Hollywood, he was going to be her manager.

Michael had visited them once in California. They lived in a broken-down trailer in a bedraggled town out in the desert. She was pregnant with their fourth kid. His father mostly talked about how they were going to make it big pretty soon. She was about to be discovered.

The waitress rolled her eyes and said nothing. She was still a waitress, raising three kids with a good for nothing husband. Her dreams had faded away long ago. Michael felt sorry for her. He cashed in his plane ticket and bought a bus ticket instead. He gave the waitress the difference in price.

He hadn't said goodbye to his father.

His mother had tied her robe. She sloshed some whiskey into her coffee. She would chatter away for a while like all was right with the world, then go silent, sip her coffee, smoke her cigarette, and gaze at the tabletop.

Eddie had left hours before to go to school. It was his senior year. Michael went out to visit a few old buddies who were still in town. He cut the visits short after a couple hours. It was too depressing.

His friends had parents who went to real jobs. Mothers who fixed dinner and baked cookies. Houses decorated for Christmas. Gifts under the tree.

He had a drunken slut for a mother and a no-good bum for a father. A run-down house with a leaky roof. No tree. No gifts.

Michael shook off the depression and went shopping. He got food for Christmas dinner and a gag gift for his brother. A tie with a naked woman whose nipples would blink red and green. Eddie had no need for a tie, but he would be amused by it.

A Business Plan

His mother had on a bright blue dress when Michael got home. Low cut with a couple stains near the hem. She was going out on a date. He knew what that meant.

"If you bring him back here, I'll throw him out," he said. A simple statement of fact.

"Honey, why do you talk that way? He's a nice man. It's Christmas. Time for a little fun."

"What's his name?"

It took her a while to remember. "Henry. He owns a car dealership."

Michael knew Henry. He owned a used car lot on the outskirts of towns. Cars ready for the junkyard, sold to poor idiots who didn't know any better. A sleazeball.

Whenever an old car disappeared in town, the police would wait a few days and check out Henry's Quality Used Cars They had found several stolen vehicles 'priced for quick sale'. Henry was always shocked to find out it was a stolen car, the paperwork was always misplaced, and a blurry fax of a copy of a copy of the paperwork was always found a few days later.

His mother got home late. Not unusual. Michael heard them on the porch and looked out the curtain. Miriam was swaying, drunk, while the man pawed at her tits. Foreplay, Henry style. Obviously, he expected to be invited in.

Michael opened the door and stared at the man. Henry frowned and walked away. Michael's mother was confused about why he left.

"He left because he knew he wasn't going to get laid tonight," Michael said.

"Don't talk to your mother that way."

She was slurring her words. She staggered up the steps to go to bed.

Michael and Eddie were watching the Charles Dickens' movie. Another Eddie favorite. They were drinking beer that Michael had bought and being goofy, making fun of Ebeneezer and the ghosts.

Eddie got another beer and changed the topic.

"You're a business major, big brother. You ought to figure out a way for mom to make money. Maybe she could open a bar or something."

Eddie was kidding. He laughed at the idea. So did Michael. What could his drunken slut of a mother do to make money? Maybe she could become the poster child for bad decisions.

After the movie ended, the brothers went to bed. It was a lousy life they had, but the two boys made the best of it, Michael mused. He was in college and would soon find a decent job. He was almost free.

Eddie was smart enough to go to college, but he didn't have the grades to get a scholarship. It would be a shame if money was the only that stopped his brother from having a bright future.

Michael remembered Eddie's idea as he lay in bed. Figure out a way for mom to make money. What could a drunken slut do to make money? How can a slut make money?

The light bulb went on. The penny dropped. He knew how a slut could make money.

Time to use his college education. What was it his business professor said? Set your goals. Identify your product. Know your competition. Determine demand. Make a plan.

What were his goals? For his mother to earn enough money to put Eddie through college.

What was his product? His mother. More specifically, her sexual services.

What was the competition? At the low end, were women like his mother who fucked for the price of a few drinks and were barely worth even that. Women whose customers were largely found in dive bars.

Next were the streetwalkers. Often drug addicts, they weren't much different than his mother, except they had pimps to set prices and provide security and organization. Streetwalkers offered basic sex, ranging from a blow job in the backseat of the customer's car to an hour in a cheap motel. Mostly they were easy to find and low cost.

From friends, he knew there were a few medium priced hookers in town. Bored housewives looking for thrills and extra cash. Their clientele was more upscale, the motels nicer, and the women more middle class. From a marketing viewpoint, they weren't much in the way of competition. Housewives couldn't have too many clients lest their spouses figure out what was going on.

That left the high-end market. Women who were classy. Who knew how to do more than lay on their back and give a blow job. Who could deliver a satisfying experience, not just sex. As far as Michael knew, there were no high-end escorts in town.

Demand? Certainly, there was demand at the low end. Plenty of guys who were willing to pay a little for a quickie. Most were young with low paying jobs. It was difficult to be sure of the demand in the middle of the market. Though the housewives limited supply to avoid detection, there was a steady demand for their services. Probably more demand than they could fill.

The demand for high-end whores was also challenging to determine. Customers would mostly be men with better jobs, probably older, possibly married. With no high-end escorts in town, where would men find such a service? Out of town, obviously.

"On business trips and at conventions," Michael realized.

Professional people who took business trips and went to conventions were his target customers. Common sense said if other cities had high-class escorts, there would be demand in Michael's hometown as well.

Traveling out of town to find an escort had to be expensive. Prices in convention cities were probably higher than in other places. A man might have to pay for an extra day or two in a nice hotel. Pay for extra meals. A local option could offer lower rates and greater convenience. A local option might corner the market.

He had the background he needed. But could his drunken slut mother become a high-end whore?

He got up and went to his mother's room. She was snoring. He pulled the covers down. Miriam half woke.

"Oh honey, I didn't know you were here. Come to mama."

She held her arm out in his general direction. She probably didn't even realize he was her son.

"Mama could use some lovin', you know?"

She fell back asleep, snoring once again. Michael stepped closer.

She was naked. He studied her body. It wasn't bad, everything considered. Her tits were big, though they were getting saggy. He poked her breast. There was nothing erotic about the touch.

"Still pretty firm," was his assessment.

He'd pay more attention at breakfast. Miriam's loosely tied robe meant she usually flashed her tits at some point. He'd have a better idea of how nice her tits looked if she was standing up.

Her hips were wide and Michael had seen them sway suggestively. His mother still had a waist. A slightly plump hourglass figure.

Michael spread her legs. The carpet didn't match the drapes, as they say. And the carpet didn't look all that inviting. Otherwise, from what he could see, his mother's pussy looked okay.

He bent to get a closer look, and his nose wrinkled. She stank down there. So she had couple issues with her body. They were issues that could be fixed. A reasonable foundation to build on.

Michael pulled the covers back up and returned to his bed. Lying in the dark, he began to formulate a plan.

A few days later, his mother went out on a date with Isaac, the auto mechanic with a wife and three kids. Everybody, including his wife, knew he cheated whenever he could.

Isaac rarely drank, earned a decent living, and was a good father. His wife was a very practical woman. She sat him down and said he could have his flings as long as she didn't get any diseases, he didn't spend too much money, and he came home at a decent hour. They shook hands to seal the deal.

For nearly eight years, Isaac had his flings but he always got home by 10 pm.

When Isaac dropped off Michael's mother, Michael asked to speak with him. The man looked at his watch.

"Got to be home in 15 minutes. Make it fast."

"I'll come with you if that's okay. So you aren't late."

Michael laid out his plan at Isaac's kitchen table.

"Do you think it'll work?"

"I don't know. She's been free and easy to get for a long time. Lotta men going to be unhappy if things change. Me included," was the reply.

"You can be my technical consultant. Check on the quality of service from time to time."

Isaac grinned. He could do that.

"I knew her in high school. She was pretty smart back then and knew how to act. If you get her sobered up and dressed decent, it just might work."

That was the big question. Could he get her sobered up? The second big question. Would Eddie go along with the plan?

Another night, another chance for Miriam to stay home, get drunk, and pass out in the armchair. Eddie rose from the couch to carry her upstairs, but Michael said, "Leave her there. I want to talk to you."

Michael got Eddie a beer and turned the TV off. It was time to reveal his plan. It amused him to have his mother present, though not conscious, while he did.

"I figured out a way for mom to make money. If you're willing."

He laid out the plan. Eddie was skeptical. They talked some more, drank some more. Eddie was less skeptical. When Eddie began talking about Miriam's 'visual appeal in a crowded marketplace', Michael knew two things. His brother was pretty tipsy and Eddie would go along with the plan.

"I'm serious, man. It won't work unless she's got the goods," Eddie declared.

"You want to see the goods?" Eddie nodded and got another beer.

Michael hauled his mother from the chair to the couch. Fortunately, the dress had a zipper in the back. He bent her forward and unzipped the dress. Letting his mother flop back, he took her arms out of the sleeves.

"What are you doing?" asked Eddie, confused.

"Showing you the goods," replied his brother. "Help me lift her."

They lifted and tugged her dress and panties below her butt. Setting her down, Eddie got the garments off while Michael removed the bra.

Eddie got his first look at 'the goods' -- his mother, stark naked, slumped on the couch, snoring.

"Shit. She ain't half bad. I might want her myself," Eddie said.

"She's your mother! What's the matter with you?"

Eddie shook his head.

"She hasn't been a mother to you or to me for a long, long time. She's just somebody who lives in the same house."

Eddie reached for her crotch.

"I wouldn't do that. At least not until we get her cleaned up."

Making Her a Whore

Early in the morning, Michael made an appointment at a clinic. Mom showed up in the kitchen about eleven wearing the pink robe again. Some brown pubic hair flashed when she turned toward her seat, sloshing coffee and whiskey on the sleeve.

"Mom, it's about time you got a job and earned some money. Eddie's going to need money to go to college. You've been a waste of protoplasm for too many years."

"As if. I'm fine. Your brother is fine. Take your big mouth and fancy college words back where they came from."

Michael slapped her across the face.

"Shut up when I talk to you."

She started to protest and he slapped her again.

"I told you to shut up when I talk to you."

She tried to stare daggers at him but was hungover from the night before and couldn't keep it up.

"You are a drunk and a slut."

She looked down at her cup.

"Say it. Say that you're a drunk and a slut."

He thought she might cry, but she didn't. She had accepted her lot long ago.

She looked at him hard. "Your mama is a drunk and a slut. That what you wanted to hear? That make you happy, college boy?"

He slapped her a third time.

"Enough with the attitude. You listen to me very carefully. You listening?"

She nodded tiredly.

"From now on, I'm in charge. You understand? I'm in charge. You do whatever I say. Got it?"

She took a deep breath like she was going to argue. Michael cocked his arm and waited. She let the breath out slowly and slumped in the chair.

"Whatever I say. Got it?"

She nodded and poured some more whiskey in her coffee.

"You're not going to be a drunken slut anymore. You hear me?"

She snorted. "So, what am I going to be? Lady Gaga?"

"No. You're going to be a whore. Maybe a drunken whore but a whore. You are going to fuck men for money. Fuck women too, if they're willing to pay."

She sat there, speechless. Her son was going to make her a whore?

"I won't do it. You can't make me do it."

"I bet I can."

He stood and walked behind her. She didn't move. He grabbed the lapels of the robe and yanked them backward. Her breasts popped into view.

He reached lower on the robe and yanked again. Her pubic hair appeared. He used the belt of the robe to tie her hands behind the chair. Except where the robe covered her arms, she was naked.

Michael pushed the table back and stood in front of her. He opened his pants and pulled out his cock.

"You're going to suck my cock. That's step one of you becoming a whore. Sucking your son's cock. Then you're going to suck Eddie's cock. In fact, you are going to beg to suck my cock. You are going to beg Eddie to suck his cock. You're going to do that by the end of the day."