10 comments/ 26651 views/ 49 favorites Special Circumstances By: rarmons God fucking damn it. That was the last thing I needed. I stared at the letter from the Massachusetts RMV in disbelief. It was a notification that due to me having received three speeding tickets in the last twelve months, my license would be suspended for thirty days. I was pissed, as much at myself as at the RMV. Now, I might not be the perfect driver, but I've only been in three serious accidents in almost three decades of driving, and none of them had been my fault. The first ticket listed in the letter had been eleven months ago, where I had overlooked a speed limit sign. The most recent one, two weeks ago, had been because I woke up late, and had to rush to get to work on time. I got busted going fifty in a thirty zone, and ate a massive 175 dollar fine. Living outside the city, I needed my car to commute to St. John's Hospital, where I work as a nurse. The loss of my driving privileges for thirty days was an absolute disaster. Money was extremely tight, especially just after the holidays, and I desperately needed to keep my job. Tears flowed freely, and visions of losing my job, and getting kicked out of my apartment haunted my mind. Why had I been so stupid and reckless and driven too fast? I'd give just about anything to undo it. After the tears dried, I steeled myself. What's done is done, and there was nothing I could do right away. I called my son. "Hello, Julian." "Hey, Mom. What's up?" "How's college?" His tuition was my biggest expense, and the real reason money was so tight, but I wanted him to graduate at all costs. I'd just have to cut down on my own expenses even more. It didn't matter, as long as he'd have the best possible future. "It's fine, why?" "Oh, just wondering." "You called just to ask that?" "No," I sighed. "I got speeding ticket two weeks ago." "Seriously? Another one?" "Don't start. The RMV just informed me my license is suspended for thirty days." "What, for one ticket?" "Nope. Three in a year." "That sucks." "No need to tell me." "What are you gonna do now?" "Well...I was wondering if you could drive me to work." "What? For an entire month?" "No, no," I protested quickly, sensing he really didn't like that idea. "Just for a couple of days or so, until I can find a carpool at work, or something." Julian just sighed on the other end. "Please?" I begged. "Sure. Of course. You know I wasn't gonna say no, Mom." He was like that. He hemmed and hawed at first, but he always came through when needed. I breathed a sigh of relief, anyway. That was one weight lifted off my shoulders, at least. "Thank you, Julian." "So how is this gonna work?" "I was thinking you could stay here for a few days, then we can drive into Boston together in the morning. You can do your college stuff, and then we drive home at the end of the day." "Alright, I guess that could work." "So, I'll see you soon?" "Yeah, I guess." We said goodbye, and I hung up, already feeling much better than I had fifteen minutes earlier. This wasn't the end of the world, and it was definitely manageable, thanks to my son. Twenty two years ago, I had an affair with a married man. It had been a mistake, since he never had any intention of leaving his wife, but I had been young, impetuous, and naive. He was just looking for some entertainment, when I was looking for something more. A few nights of fun turned into nine months of not-so-much-fun. Even after he found out I was pregnant, he wasn't interested in a relationship, but he did at least agree to pay child support until Julian turned 18. That had been a big help, and I'm not sure how I could have raised him on my own without the financial support. Other than that, Julian's father was completely out of the picture. He had two children of his own with his wife, and never showed even the slightest interest in his other son. I wasn't going to let Julian pay for my mistake, though, and made sure he wasn't lacking anything in his life if I could help it, even if it was at my own expense. Sending him off to college had been one of my proudest moments as a single mother. After about an hour, the doorbell rang. I pressed the buzzer, and opened the door. Julian came trudging up the steps with a travel bag over one shoulder, and a backpack over the other. It was amazing how much he looked his dad, which was a good thing for him. Unlike my blonde hair, his was almost pitch black, and kept short. He had also inherited his father's strong jaw line, prominent nose, and thick brows. The only thing he got from me were his blue eyes. I hugged him, and said, "Thank you so much for doing this." "Jeez, Mom, I'm not even in the door yet, and you're already strangling me." "Sorry." I let him pass, and he dropped his bags on the living room floor. The apartment wasn't big, and only had one bedroom, one bath, and a small combined kitchen and living room. When Julian was still living with me, we had been in a two bedroom apartment, but after he moved into the dorm, it was too expensive to keep. The complex was located about half an hour by car from St. John's, but I did the math, and it was cheaper to pay for the extra gas than it was to live closer to the city, especially thanks to the recent drop in gas prices. "You can sleep in the bed, if you want. I'll take the couch," I offered, since he was going out of his way to help me out. "Nah, don't worry, Mom. I'm okay sleeping out here. My back can take it." "And mine can't? I'm not that old, you know," I said, indignantly. Maybe at forty-four I was past my prime, but I absolutely did not feel old, yet. Julian just rolled his eyes, and said, "Whatever. Anyway, all your clothes and stuff are in there." "Alright, alright. Are you hungry?" "Yeah, I haven't had the chance to eat, yet." "How does chicken casserole sound?" "Great." "So, tell me, how are things at college?" I asked, getting the chicken out of the fridge. We haven't really had a long conversation since the start of his semester. "Good, but I'm actually in the middle of writing an important paper," he replied, and pulled his laptop out of the backpack. "Oh. Is it ok if I play some music?" "Yeah, that's fine, just not too loud." I was a little disappointed, but understanding. I prepared the dish to some mellow rock music, and when it was finished, Julian closed his laptop, and we ate. He told me about how he was doing at college, and what classes he had that semester. It worked wonders for taking my own mind off of my current situation, and I was glad he was there. After dinner, he resumed working, and I did a few chores around the apartment, including getting fresh sheets and a blanket for the couch. "I think I'm gonna head to bed," I said to him, around ten. "Ok, I'll probably still be up for a bit. What time do we need to leave tomorrow?" "I need to be at work at eight, and it takes about half an hour, usually." "Jeez, that's early." "Sorry." "I'll go to bed soon, then. Goodnight, Mom." "Night!" *** I woke up at 6:33 a.m., long before my alarm rang. The toilet flushed, audible through the thin walls. Then I heard the sound of water pattering on tile, as Julian showered. I sighed, got up, sleepily stumbled into the kitchen, and turned on the coffee maker. Everything was still pitch black outside on that January morning. While waiting for Julian to finish showering, I ate oatmeal, and drank my coffee. The water turned off, and shortly after, Julian stepped out of the bathroom, wearing just boxers. "Good morning, Mom," he said, cheerily. "Morning," I mumbled back, still not fully awake. I went into the bathroom, and stepped into the shower. The hot water finally woke me up, and I felt like a normal, functioning human being again. Well, almost. After the shower, I nearly left the bathroom stark naked, before remembering Julian was there. That would have been awkward. When I exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me, Julian was in the process of eating breakfast. I went into my room, and got dressed. It didn't really matter what I put on, since I'd be changing into scrubs anyway, so I just picked jeans, and a warm shirt and sweater. "You ready to go?" Julian asked. "Yup," I replied, grabbed my purse, and put on a warm coat. After walking down three flights of stairs, we stepped outside into the cold winter air. "Which car do you want to drive?" "Yours, of course," he said with a grin. His car was an old, beaten down Ford that we bought used, for cheap. Since he was living on campus, he didn't really need a car, except to visit me, or occasionally go out. My car was a lot nicer, since I commuted every day. I handed him the keys, and got into the passenger seat. It felt weird not being the one to drive my own car, and I watched Julian like a hawk, to make sure he was doing everything right. "Relax, Mom. I know how to drive," he protested, sensing my anxiety. "Sorry, I'm just not used to sitting on the passenger seat." "You have plenty time to get used to it over the next few weeks." I sighed, knowing it was true. We listened to the news on the drive, but apparently nothing interesting was going on, other than the usual political mudslinging that nobody in America really wanted to hear about anymore. The weather forecast just predicted more snow, and cold weather. Ten minutes early, Julian dropped me off at St. John's. "Pick me up at six, ok?" "Alright." "I'll call if anything changes, ok?" "Got it, Mom." "Have a great day." "Thanks, you too." I watched him drive off, and turn the corner. At least I didn't have to worry about finding a parking spot. In the locker room, I got a pair of scrubs out of the vending machine, and changed into my work clothing. "Good morning, Alex," said Nadya, a fellow nurse and friend. She was an older Ukrainian woman, although she's been living in the U.S. since she was five. "Morning." "Did I see that right, or did you get out of some hot guy's car this morning? You never told me you were seeing anyone." I snorted, and replied, "No, that's my son, Julian." "Oh. He's cute," she said, shamelessly. "He's like forty years younger than you!" "So? He's got a dick, doesn't he?" "I'm sure he does." "Why's he driving you, anyway?" I told her all about the letter, and Nadya commiserated with my bad luck. Unfortunately, she lived in the city and didn't own a car, so I had to try my luck at carpooling somewhere else. "You still going to that seminar you told me about tomorrow?" she asked. Oh, fuck. I had completely forgotten about that. "Uh, yeah," I muttered. I'd have to get Julian to drive me. As part of our job, we were required by St. John's to regularly attend seminars to further our education. That wasn't really a bad part at all, and necessary in keeping up with newer trends in technology and health-care, but the problem was that St. John's was too cheap to actually spring for the costs. That didn't mean we wouldn't have to do it, of course, just that we were expected to pay for it out of our own pockets. This one had cost me a thousand bucks. All the nurses knew it was bullshit. St. John's probably knew it was bullshit, too, but there were no laws against it. We've been working towards a class action lawsuit, but those kinds of things move slowly, and in the meantime we had to observe hospital guidelines, or risk losing our jobs, and that's one thing I definitely couldn't afford. A few weeks earlier, I had picked out a seminar from a big list, since it was the one that appealed the most to me: The Impact of Physical Exertions on Physiology, by Dr. Sorensen. Ever since the fact that football players are highly likely to develop chronic traumatic encephalopathy got a lot of national media attention recently, we've been working with a lot of young athletes to try and help them avoid injuries. The seminar sounded like it could teach me a thing or two about that. The blurb accompanying it had mostly been a paraphrasing of the title, and not provided much more info about the seminar. It also said that Dr. Inge Sorensen was a renowned therapist from New York, with decades of experience in the field of human anatomy. It would actually help me in my job, and I figured I might as well get my money's worth out of it, if the hospital was making us go. Of course, when I had signed up for it, I signed up for one scheduled on a convenient Saturday. I didn't know that my license would be suspended, and make it much less convenient. All day, I spent thinking about how to best break the news to Julian that he'd also have to play my chauffeur on a Saturday, but didn't come up with anything than "deal with it." *** Five minutes past six, Julian drove up to the hospital employee parking lot. "Hey, Mom," he greeted me. "Hey. How was your day?" "Same as usual, really. Did you manage to find someone to carpool with?" "No, not yet. Everyone I know either lives in the city, or on the opposite side of Boston." "Oh," he said, sounding disappointed. "I've got even more bad news." "Really? Did you get another ticket jaywalking, or something?" he asked, mocking. "No, it's not that. I've got a seminar tomorrow that I can't miss. You're gonna have to drive me." "Ugh, I'll have to cancel my date." "You have a girlfriend?" I asked, surprised. He hadn't mentioned anything at dinner the night before. Maybe he just didn't want to talk about that part of his life with his mother, and it had slipped out. I suddenly regretted asking him, as if I intruded into something I shouldn't have. "No, it was supposed to have been a first date. I'll just reschedule it, Mom. It's not a big deal." "Oh, I'm sorry," I said, feeling bad and relieved at the same time. It had always been like that between the two of us. We could talk about pretty much anything. School, work, didn't matter. The only thing we didn't talk about was dating. I just figured it was because I mostly kept my sexual exploits to myself while he was growing up. I didn't think it was a good idea to introduce him to a new father figure every couple of months, since I never managed to date someone for a long time. "It's ok," he assured me, again. I wanted to ask more questions, like who was she, what was her name, and was she pretty, but I restrained myself. "Where and when is it?" he asked. "Tomorrow, at four. In Greenhill." "Yikes. Greenhill?" "You've been there?" "No, I've only driven through there. I don't think there is anything to stop at." "Well, I didn't pick the location." "Suppose not. How long is it?" "Four hours, in total." "Jeez." "I know. I wouldn't do it if I didn't need to, to keep my job." Back in my apartment, Julian busied himself with the laptop all night again, and we ate leftover casserole. *** "Is this the place?" Julian asked. We pulled into an empty parking spot in front of a large, square building. It looked rather nondescript, and the only thing indicating we were at the right place was the sign "Greenhill Convention Center" in big letters above the entrance. "Yeah, looks like it," I answered. I was surprised by how many cars were in the parking lot. It had to be a few hundred, at least. Hard to imagine that many people crammed into the building. "So, what's the thing about anyway?" "Oh, just some lecture on football injuries, I think." "Really? That sounds kind of interesting. I have a few friends on the football team." "I'm sure it's not going to be nearly as exciting as you think," I tried explaining. I've been to a number of these kinds of things now, and they're never that interesting. The stuff that's talked about is usually really important, but most speakers just read off of PowerPoint slides in a monotonous voice. Unfortunately being an expert in the field of medicine doesn't instantly make you a good public speaker. "Don't you have some work to do?" "Yeah, got it right here," Julian said, pulling out his laptop. He pressed a button, and cursed. "What's wrong?" "Battery's dead." "You don't have a spare one, or something?" "No, Mom. I don't have a 'spare battery,'" he answered in a patronizing voice. "Is there something else you can do in the meantime?" "No, all my work's on here," he said, patting the computer. "And it's not like there's anything to do in this dump." "That sucks." "Why don't I just come with you to the lecture? I kinda wanna hear about the football stuff," he proposed. "I don't think that's possible. We had to sign up for it a few weeks in advance, and it cost a thousand dollars." "The hell? A thousand bucks?" "Yeah. St. John's is making us go to these events. I could lose my job, if I don't. We're actually in the process of starting a class action lawsuit against them." "Can't you sneak me in, or something?" I felt really guilty about him having to sacrifice his Saturday just to drive me around already, and I didn't want to have him suffer through four hours of boredom in the car on my account. "Maybe." I retrieved my purse from the backseat, and rummaged around for the letter from the Center for Lectures and Illness Therapy. "Ah, here it is." I opened the envelope, and got out the little plastic name tag. It showed the organization's logo, and my last name, Weaver, in all capital letters. Well, our last name. "Here, take this for now. I'm gonna go in first, and see if I can just walk in. If not, I'll come back out, and we'll have to think of something else. Otherwise, you can just follow me with the thing." "Alright," he said, warily. "Won't people be able to tell I don't belong? I'm not exactly dressed for it." I glanced at his outfit. He wore a pair of dark slacks, and red sweater with some band's logo on it. That would definitely raise some eyebrows. "Are you wearing anything under that sweater?" "Uh, just a t-shirt." "Any logos on it?" "Nope, it's just black." "That's perfect." "Won't that look weird too?" "No, hold on." I turned around, and grabbed my white doctor's coat from the backseat. "Here, you can wear this. You'll fit right in." "Nice." "Alright, well, I'm gonna go in. I'll call if everything's ok, and you can follow." I stepped out of the car into the cold. Without the coat, I was severely underdressed for going outside. The navy blue business dress I had picked barely offered any warmth, and by the time I made it inside the building, my teeth were chattering. Fortunately the building was heated. Inside the lobby, there were a few dozen people milling around, most of which sported similar white coats to the one I had given Julian. A pair of large doors led further in, flanked on each side by a tall security guard holding a clipboard. On the side, a table had been set up, with a few official-looking people sitting behind laptops. Trying to look like nothing was wrong, I strode confidently in the direction of the large double doors. Everything seemed to be going well, until I put my hand on the handle. "Miss? Excuse me," said the guard to my right. "Yeah?" I asked, hesitantly. "Where's your name tag?" "Oh, I, uh, lost it." "Can't let you in without ticking you off the list," he explained, waving his clipboard. "Talk to the guys over there," he said, pointing at the table, "they'll get you a new one." "Ok, thanks," I replied, and sidled over to the table. "How can I help you?" asked one of the men. "I lost my nametag." "Name?" "Alex Weaver." "One moment." He started typing on his laptop. "Can I see some ID?" "Yeah, one sec." I pulled my St. John's laminate out of my purse, and held it out. He looked at it carefully, and finally said, "Alright, Ms. Weaver, looks like everything's in order. That will just be five dollars for a replacement tag." Special Circumstances I sighed inwardly, and got out my purse. After handing him a five dollar bill, he pressed a few buttons, and a little attachment at the back of his laptop spat out a slip of paper. He grabbed it, and inserted it into an empty name clip he procured from under the desk. "Here you go, Ms. Weaver. Enjoy the lecture." "Thanks," I mumbled, and attached the tag to my dress. Back at the door, I tapped the tag with my finger, and the security guard took his time trying to read the name. He was probably ogling my cleavage, actually, but I was used to that. Men always seemed so incredibly fascinated with my breasts. Or rather, breasts in general. Mine weren't that particularly outstanding, in my opinion, even if they were on the larger side. The guard leafed through a few sheets of paper on the clipboard, until he finally found my entry. "Weaver, Alex. St. John's. Forty-four. Wow, really? You don't look a day over twenty-five, if I do say so myself," he said. It was extremely hard not to burst out laughing, and I wasn't really in the mood to flirt back, but flashed him a smile anyway, not wanting him to get pissed or anything. "Can I go in now?" "Yes, ma'am." I pushed open the door, went into what turned out to be a rather large hall, which felt bigger than the drab outside of the building indicated. There were at least three hundred seats, most of which were already occupied. Everything was carpeted, and the sides of the room were covered in wood panels. Not too bad looking, actually. It had a kind of cozy atmosphere to it, despite the size. I pulled out my phone, and called Julian. "Did it work?" he asked immediately. "Yeah, I'm in. You should be able to get in, too. They'll check your name against a list, but they're still using paper. Just make sure you talk to the guard on the left, ok? Not the right one, he already marked me down." "Ok, got it, Mom." "Wait, they have my age in the list too. If anyone asks, you're forty-four, and you can just say you're my husband, or something." "You think that's necessary?" "Just in case." "Sure, whatever. I'll be right there." "Good luck." I stood near the entrance, and waited for him. A knot formed in my stomach, and I hoped this wouldn't have any repercussions. I couldn't really afford to be thrown out of the seminar, and started to have second thoughts about sneaking him in. How foolish had I been? The doors opened a few times, and people I didn't recognize walked in. Where was Julian? Had something happened? Then the left door, now actually on my right, opened, and Julian walked in, wearing the white coat. I breathed out in relief, aware for the first time that I had been holding it in, in anticipation. "What happened? Did everything go alright?" I asked, anxiously. "Relax, Mom, everything went fine." "You sure?" "Yeah." "Let's go find a seat, then." I surveyed the crowd, and it appeared to be mostly women. It wasn't that unusual for events for nurses, since that field was still lopsided in the gender department, but this event had definitely been part of a general catalogue. There were a few men scattered around the room, of course, but nowhere near the same numbers. They looked to be mostly older gentlemen, and thus had to be doctors. They could technically have been nurses, but male nurses tended to be on the younger side, since that's only been a recent trend. Julian and I found a pair of empty seats at the end of a row halfway up the hall, and sat down. There were only a few minutes left until the event was supposed to start, and the remaining seats filled up quickly, amidst the general buzz of conversations. "Are they usually like this?" "Yeah, I guess. Not as big, though. The others I've been to had about a hundred people at most. Maybe it's because of this Dr. Santorum, or whatever her name is." "Who?" "Some famous therapist." "Never heard of her." "Not surprised, neither have I." An older man in a three piece suit walked on stage, and stood in front of the microphone. The buzz died down, as his voice blared through the speakers. "Greetings, ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for coming today. The Center for Lectures and Illness Therapy is a non-profit organization that seeks to further the education of the medical field. I know you all didn't come here today to hear me speak, so without further adieu let me introduce you to the first of our guest speakers today, Dr. John Cunningham." He clapped, and the crowd joined in. A man in his late 50's walked up on stage, and took over the microphone. "Hello, uh, everyone. I'm, uh, Dr. John Cunningham, and, uh, today I want to, uh, talk about the effect of, uh, oxygen levels on muscular, uh, growth," he stammered. I groaned. If he started like that, there was no way this was going to be fun to listen to. My worst fears were confirmed when a projector switched on, and beamed a PowerPoint slide onto the wall behind him. He started reading off the slides. Word for word. "God, this guy's bad," whispered Julian next to me. "Tell me about it." Dr. Cunningham rattled on and on about his topic, and while it normally could have been interesting, his deliverance of the material destroyed any hopes of usefulness. One might think that if you just read off of a slide, you could at least not add lots of "uhs," but unfortunately that was not the case. All around me, people were pulling out their phones or tablets, and I was glad I wasn't the only one who appeared to suffer. It felt even worse, knowing I was paying such a large sum of money for this garbage. I'm pretty sure I dozed off at some point, but after a gruelling two hours, Dr. Cunningham finally stopped speaking. He seemed to be oblivious to the fact that hardly anyone had been paying attention. The sound of a few people clapping seemed to wake up the crowd, and Dr. Cunningham shuffled off the stage. "Thank you for that riveting speech, Dr. Cunningham," announced the man in the three piece suit. "Before we begin our main event, there will be a ten minute break. Please make sure to be back in your seats in time. Thank you." "Holy shit, that was boring," remarked Julian. "Yeah. It's not usually that bad." "I almost think I would have been better off sitting in the car." "Sorry." "Not your fault." "I think I need some caffeine after that, and I need to pee. You want anything?" "Sure, get me a coke, or something." I got up, and looked for the ladies room. Fortunately there wasn't a line. After doing my business, I washed my hands. Next to me, a young woman in her twenties did the same. "That was an awful lecture," she commented. "Oh yes, yes it was," I agreed. "You look familiar. St. John's?" "Yeah," I confirmed, and took a better look at her. I didn't recognize her, but her face did seem familiar to me, as well. Maybe I've encountered her in the halls, or something. "Can't wait for the union to do something about all this training on our expense bullshit." "No need to tell me. I just hope this Dr. Santorum won't be as bad." "It's Dr. Sorensen, and no, she's great. She's a really famous sex therapist, and really knows what she's talking about." Sex therapist? I thought this was sports related. "Oh?" "Yeah, I've heard a lot about her, and saw one of her lectures on YouTube. Really fascinating stuff." "Well, that's good," I commented absentmindedly, drying my hands. "Mary," she said, and stretched out her hand. "What? Oh. Alex." I shook her hand, and we left the bathroom. She went back to her seat, and I beelined towards the vending machines to get two cans of coke. When I came closer to my seat, I nearly dropped the drinks in shock. Julian was standing in the aisle, talking to one of the security guards. My heart sank to my stomach. Did they realize he wasn't supposed to be there? Oh god, if they kicked us out, I might lose my job. Julian glanced in my direction, and waved me over. "Hey, what's up?" I asked, anxious, and handed him one of the drinks. "Hello, Mrs. Weaver," said the guard, and I was confused momentarily, before remembering I told Julian to pretend to be my husband. "I was just talking to your husband here about an opportunity." "Opportunity? What kind?" "Dr. Sorensen is looking for volunteers for a practical demonstration, and she needs both a woman and a man. We approached your husband because, uh, excuse me for saying so, but he's one of the younger men here, and Dr. Sorensen requires someone in good physical condition." "What kind of demonstration?" "Just testing out some of the equipment she'll be showcasing. Heart monitors, and whatnot. Of course, the both of you will be fully compensated for this, to the cost of this lecture." "The both of us?" "Yes, you would both be volunteering. Normally we find two random people, but the fact that you are husband and wife works out great." "Sure, we'll do it." I was so relieved that we weren't busted, that I was only too happy to agree. I didn't even stop to ask Julian. Plus, having my thousand dollars returned would be incredibly fortunate, especially with the recent ticket. "Great! Dr. Sorensen will call you on stage at some point during her lecture." The guard left again, and I looked at Julian, who shot me a questioning look. "You think that's a good idea?" he asked, and we sat down again. "I..." I started, but trailed off. I hadn't even considered the implications. If they paid us for this, they'd surely discover that there was no record of Julian in their system. Maybe. "Sorry. I didn't really think it through. When I saw you talking to him, I was so scared that we'd been busted, I didn't think straight. I was just so happy." "What now?" "We'll just have to go up on stage, and act like nothing's wrong. Just make sure not to screw up, and there's a good chance they won't look into it too closely." "Wow, no pressure then." "I'm serious. This could risk my job." "Don't worry, we'll manage it." I tried to relax a little bit, and opened my drink. The caffeine combined with the sugar worked wonders, and I started to feel better about the situation. Everything would probably work out to be ok. The man in the suit took to the stage again. "And now we come to the main event. Ladies and gentlemen, I have the great pleasure to announce one of the world's most prominent sex therapists, Dr. Inge Sorensen." The crowd applauded, and a woman in the first row got up. I was surprised at how young she was. Normally these kinds of speeches were held by old, established doctors, but Dr. Sorensen looked like she was in her mid twenties. She wore a green and orange patterned dress, covered by a white coat, like the one I had given to Julian. Her long, blonde hair was tied into a braid. "Uh, Mom? Did he say 'sex therapist?'" asked Julian, his curiosity piqued. "Yes," I grumbled. "I thought you said this was about football." "It probably still is. You can be an expert in more than one thing," I explained to him, but I was starting to have my own doubts. Dr. Sorensen shook the man's hands, attached a small microphone to her coat, and then started talking. "Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Dr. Inge Sorensen. I am glad you have decided to participate in this seminar." She spoke with a Scandinavian accent, but I couldn't really narrow it down any further than that. "Today I will try and teach you all about the physiological responses the body can produce in response to stimuli, both external and internal." As she launched into her lecture, I could see why she was so famous. She spoke in clear and concise words, and only used slides to keep the talking points tied together, or to show diagrams. It really was fascinating, and I was beginning to see why this seminar had cost so much. Dr. Sorensen talked a little bit about sports, but mostly in relation to the kind of hormones the body releases during intense physical activities or victory celebrations. Things like testosterone, endorphins, and serotonin. After about an hour, I felt much more knowledgeable than before, and even Julian was listening intensely. "Sports, however, are not the only activity where these chemicals are released. To illustrate the most prominent effect in the human body, I want to now switch over to the practical segment of this seminar. Mr. Price, if you would be so kind." Mr. Price turned out to be the man in the three piece suit. He got up, and opened a small set of doors next to the stage I had overlooked. Almost immediately, several men carted in a huge, beige contraption, with several displays on one side, and cables hanging off of others. While they were setting up the machine on the stage, Dr. Sorensen continued. "This demonstration is in partnership with Life-Monitor Systems, who have lent us this incredible piece of machinery for today." Product placement wasn't unheard of at these kinds of events, so I wasn't too surprised. "It will allow us to monitor a patient's vital functions, as well as give us an insight into the levels of certain chemicals in the brain. I highly recommend anyone who is interested in studying the inner workings of the human body to acquire one of these." A few of the lights on the box started blinking, and one of the men was tapping away at the screen. Others brought a tall, three legged stool, and a fancy leather covered examination table. "It looks like we are just about ready," commented Dr. Sorensen. "At this point, I would like to ask the volunteers to come up on the stage, please." Julian nudged me in the ribs. "Does she mean us?" he whispered. "I don't know." Nobody else seemed to react, though. "Mr. and Mrs. Weaver, please," added Dr. Sorensen. That was unmistakable. I got up, and Julian followed suit. The walk down the aisle towards the stage was awkward. It felt like everyone's attention was focused purely on me, and another knot formed in my stomach. Whatever we were supposed to do, I hoped it would be over quick. After walking the two steps up the stage, I turned around, and looked at the mass of people staring at me. Was this how it looked to Dr. Sorensen, too? I've never been one for public speaking, and it was weird knowing so many people were watching every one of my moves. I self consciously brushed strands of hair out of my face, and straightened my dress a little. Julian seemed to be handling it much better. He seemed almost relaxed. "Ah, welcome, welcome," greeted us Dr. Sorensen with a warm smile. We shook hands, and her grip was solid and firm. "Mrs. Weaver, if you would please have a seat on the table, we will get to you shortly, but for now I am only interested in your husband." I sat down on the examination table, put my purse next to me, and watched with curious eyes. "Mr. Weaver, come over here, please." Julian walked to the point she indicated, right next to the machine. She grabbed a tripod from behind the machine, and placed it in front of him. It turned out not to be part of the machine at all, but just a regular tripod with a video camera on it. She pressed a button on the camera, and the projector hanging from the ceiling projected an enormous picture of my son on the wall. Julian waved his arm, and the figure on the wall repeated the gesture. "There," Dr. Sorensen concluded, satisfied with the placement. "Now we can all see what is going on. Mr. Weaver, please take off your coat, and lift your shirt." Julian looked at me questioningly, but I just nodded at him. That much was to be expected, and part of any regular checkup. He took off his coat, tossed it over the stool, and then grabbed the hem of his shirt, exposing his stomach and lower chest. He wasn't a jock, and didn't sport a six pack, but his physique was pretty well formed. That was another blessing of his dad's genes. Dr. Sorensen grabbed a few of the electrodes attached to the machine, and turned to Julian. "I think you better take off your shirt, too. It is going to get in the way." Julian hesitated, but then pulled off his shirt completely, and tossed it on top of the coat. Dr. Sorensen attached the electrodes to his chest, right next to his heart. The machine must have a built in ECG, and seconds later the video on the wall changed, displaying two ECG lines overlaid on the camera feed, one of which showed Julian's heartbeat. "Excellent," commented Dr. Sorensen. "And now comes the part that ties this together with the lecture." She picked up a small plastic knob from the machine, which was still attached with a clear tube. She pressed the knob against Julian's arm, where it remained stuck. Shortly afterwards, the thin clear tube tinted slightly red. "This new technology allows the drawing of blood without a needle. It functions through capillary action, drawing blood out of the vein by use of a vacuum chamber," explained Dr. Sorensen, and quite a few people in the audience applauded. I was seriously impressed, too. Being able to draw blood without a needle would make things much easier, especially when working with kids. "Please focus your attention on the screen. Since this machine is still new, we are in the ongoing process of collecting data to fine-tune the settings. Everything you see here will be recorded, and used as part of further research into the field of human physiology." I looked up, and the video still showed a half naked Julian, but in addition to the heart beat monitor, now included two bar graphs, one of which displayed various levels, labelled D, NE, T, V, O, and S. "For those of you not familiar with the specific chemicals, this graph shows us the current levels of dopamine, norepinephrine, testosterone, vasopressin, oxytocin, and serotonin." "Now, Mrs. Weaver, would you please come over here?" Dr. Sorensen addressed me, and I jumped a little. I don't know what I had been thinking, I should have seen this coming, obviously. I got up, and stood next to Julian. "Please remove your dress." I gulped. How could she expect me to undress here, in front of all these people? "Now?" I asked, quietly. "Please, Mrs. Weaver, there is no need for false modesty. We are all professionals here, there is nothing we have not seen before hundreds of times." I couldn't really argue with that logic. Over the course of my career, I'd probably seen thousands of people in various stages of undress. Still, none of those times had been with my son present, although Dr. Sorensen was obviously unaware of that fact. Besides, it would just be like wearing a bikini. I reached behind me, pulled down the zipper, and shrugged off the navy blue dress. It fell to the floor, and I stepped out of it. I decided to also step out of my shoes, it just felt too weird to be standing there in underwear and heels. Suddenly I was aware again of hundreds of people looking at me, and my heart starting beating faster. Fortunately, I was wearing simple underwear, just a no-nonsense black slip, and plain bra. Nothing too embarrassing. Dr. Sorensen retrieved more electrodes, and attached one above my heart. "I am sorry, but your bra is in the way of the second electrode. If you would be so kind as to remove it, we can proceed." "What?" My heart almost skipped a beat. Standing there in underwear was one thing, but undress in front of all these people? And my own son, no less. "It is crucial for this demonstration, Mrs. Weaver. We can not go on without it." It was too late to back out now. We already agreed to volunteer, and if we backed out now they might become suspicious, and ask questions. I wanted to avoid that at all costs, and I couldn't very well tell Dr. Sorensen that "Mr. Weaver" was actually my son. I steeled myself, and reached behind me to undo the clasp. With one arm, I held the fabric in place, while shrugging out of the straps. Special Circumstances "That is no good, the fabric is still in the way." I sighed, and pulled the bra off, covering my nipples with one arm. "There we go," she said, and attached the second electrode. I glanced up at the projection, and saw myself in just panties next to my son, standing there awkwardly. The second ECG line showed my heartbeat, noticeably quicker than Julian's, who was very intensely not looking at me. Dr. Sorensen attached a second little plastic knob on my arm, and moments later the second bar graph displayed my data. At least the demonstration would be over soon, and we could go home, and never talk about it again. "Alright, now that we have established a baseline, we can begin with the demonstration." What? That hadn't already been the whole thing? "If you all remember my speech about the release of chemicals, we will hopefully be able to see it in action with Mr. Weaver's cooperation. Mr. Weaver, if you would be so kind as to remove your pants." I couldn't believe she was asking him to take off his pants. Julian seemed to hesitate, too, until Dr. Sorensen began tapping her feet impatiently. Reluctantly, he unbuttoned his slacks, and they dropped to the ground. He had to take off his shoes as well before he was able to step out of them, and stood there in just boxers. According to the ECG, his heart was beating noticeably faster, too. "Underwear too, please," instructed Dr. Sorensen. Seemingly resigned to his fate, Julian pulled down the boxers as well. I felt trapped between doing what I knew in the back of my head I should be doing, and the fact that if I didn't go along, I could potentially lose my job, a lot of money, and ruin both Julian's and my own life. A few people in the first rows gasped, and I couldn't help but stare at my son's penis. Even though it was flaccid at the moment, it was still big, almost as big as his father's had been erect. It was quite beautiful, and uncircumcised. He didn't shave, but his pubic hair was very neatly trimmed, which helped put his cock and balls on display. It had been years since I saw him naked, not since puberty, and I had no idea he'd turned out to be so incredibly well endowed. No wonder he wasn't trying to hide it, he had nothing to be ashamed about. Seconds later, I chastised myself for thinking that way about his cock. He was my own son, and this was supposed to be a professional medical lecture. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but stare at it. "Mrs. Weaver?" Dr. Sorensen's words broke me out of my reverie. "Uh, yeah, what?" "Would you kindly please also remove your underwear." Shit. How did I once again not see that coming? I knew if I hesitated, Dr. Sorensen would just stand there, and ask me what was wrong. I already knew I couldn't tell her Julian was my son, especially not now, when he was already standing there naked. If people found out now, I might lose a lot more than just my job. I definitely wouldn't be able to show my face at St. John's anymore, or anywhere else in Boston. I took a deep breath, and tried removing my panties with one hand, using the other to still cover my breasts. It was no good. I wouldn't be able to pull down my panties as well as cover my crotch and breasts at the same time. I'd have to make a choice, and after all they were just tits. Julian had probably seen thousands of them on the internet already. I let go of my breasts, and used one hand to cover my crotch. Since I was actively dating, I regularly got waxed. Of course, I had never expected I'd be showing off my pussy to hundreds of strangers. It felt weird to be touching my labia in such a public setting, and against all my expectations, felt a slight wetness. That was probably just from nervousness. With my free hand, I slid down my panties to my knees, and then tried to twist and turn my legs to get them down all the way. It didn't work. I bent down, still trying to get them to slide on their own, and with one hand clamped down firmly on my vagina. The whole thing was rather awkward, and I felt myself slowly tip over backwards. I ripped my arms free, gesticulating wildly in an attempt to steady myself, but it was too late. With a high pitched yell, I crashed into the wooden stage. Fortunately, I managed to land on my butt. Unfortunately, my arms were still outstretched, and in an attempt to steady myself, my legs had spread wide. I was sitting there, in front of hundreds of people, with my legs apart, giving everyone, and the camera, a full view of my bald pussy. "Are you alright?" asked a concerned Dr. Sorensen. She offered me a hand, and I accepted it gratefully, pulling myself upright. "Yeah," I mumbled. I was embarassed to the core, and my heart was pounding in my chest. At first, I attempted to cover myself up again, but that ship had clearly sailed. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself, and dropped my arms to my sides. It's not that I was embarrassed about my body, I considered myself pretty fit for a forty-four year old, but I had never expected so many people to see my in such a vulnerable position. Hopefully the gossip at St. John's wouldn't be too brutal. "Excellent," commented Dr. Sorensen, looking at Julian. "Quickly, I want everyone to observe Mr. Weaver's current levels of chemicals." I had been so concerned with my own mishap, I hadn't paid attention to what Julian was doing. Looking over at him, I gasped. The previously flaccid cock was now fully erect. It curved upwards slightly in a banana shape, but it was definitely bigger than one. The bulbous head peaked out of the foreskin, and veins protruded from the shaft. Why was he erect? Had he gotten an erection because I was naked, or had Dr. Sorensen done something? She seemed just as surprised as I was, so it couldn't have been her. I gulped. On the big screen, his dopamine and testosterone levels had gone up significantly. Additionally, his already large cock was even more larger than life on the wall. While I was looking at it, my own levels seemed to rise in accordance with my increasing wetness. If it hadn't been me up on the stage, I would considered the data fascinating. Since Dr. Sorensen clearly had the results she wanted, this whole ordeal would finally be over. I had no idea how I would ever be able to look Julian in the eyes again. We'd avoided discussion of our relationships and sex for so many years, it seemed surreal that in the span of only a few minutes, we were naked next to each other, and he had gotten a good look at my pussy. Hopefully Dr. Sorensen would hurry up, and give us the ok to put our clothes back on. "Mrs. Weaver, would you please lie down on the examination table?" What could she possibly want now? Maybe my heart was beating too fast, and this was her way of asking me to calm down. I put the purse on the ground, and laid down flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. The leather felt cool against my skin at first, but warmed up quickly. I could make out the projected image on the wall behind me, although it was upside down. I wasn't in the shot anymore, but I could see Julian was staring in my direction, his cock still hard. All of a sudden, the image jerked, and moved. Dr. Sorensen must have picked up the tripod. She placed it down again, and the soles of my feet were visible on the wall. I wiggled my toes, and almost giggled. This was too weird. "Mr. Weaver, could you please assist me for a moment?" Dr. Sorensen asked, and Julian moved to my side. From my current vantage point, I could see his cock clearly. It was practically hovering right in front of my face. Hands grabbed my ankles, and I was pulled forward, sliding easily on the leather, until my ass was at the edge of the table. And Julian's cock was now just inches away from my face. I don't know what came over me, but I raised my head, and wrapped my lips around the bulbous head of his cock. A drop of precum leaked out, and Julian groaned audibly. It tasted salty, but good. I dropped my head back on the table, savoring the taste and feel in my mind for a few moments, until I realized where I was. I had just put the tip of my son's cock on my mouth. Shame washed over me, but before I had too much time to ponder what had just happened, Dr. Sorensen continued. "Spread your legs apart, please, Mrs. Weaver." I was too stunned to object, and complied with her instruction. Above me, the camera's video feed was focused right on me, giving the entire crowd an up close view of my now wet pussy. "I want to collect multiple data points, and in my experience the most reliable results have been yielded through oral stimulation. Mr. Weaver, if you would be so kind as to help out." Julian stepped between my legs, and knelt down, leaving only his head in my view. He wasn't looking at me, though. His view was transfixed on my clean shaven labia. I gasped, and closed my eyes, when I felt his rough tongue run along the outside of my pussy. "Excellent," commented Dr. Sorensen. "I want everyone to pay attention as Mrs. Weaver's levels rise." Julian's tongue ran up the length of my slit, up over my clit, and back down. Apparently he had some experience in the matter, and his probing and teasing intensified. It was hard to believe hundreds of people were watching as my son ate me out, and the craziness of it all only added to my excitement. I couldn't help but moan every time his tongue brushed over my clit. It seemed to go on for countless of hours, although I knew it couldn't have been that long. The start of an orgasm formed, deep inside me, and I knew it wouldn't be long before my sweet release. Julian seemed to sense it, and focused more and more on my button. "Observe the spikes in oxytocin and vasopressin levels as we are nearing orgasm," commentated Dr. Sorensen in a calm and objective manner. My own body, on the other hand, was anything but calm. Julian's hand wrapped around one of my breasts, and he squeezed gently, before rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The last word I heard was Dr. Sorensen saying, "Now." Then the orgasm washed over my body. Wave after wave after wave of euphoria rolled from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, and I was lost to the world. When I came to again, I opened my eyes, and looked around. I couldn't see my son, but Dr. Sorensen was paying attention to the big screen. I looked at it, and saw my own pussy, drenched in juices, still slightly quivering. Had I seriously just orgasmed in front of all these people? I suddenly felt so vulnerable, like I was on display. No, I actually was on display. "Excellent," said Dr. Sorensen. "That will give us a lot of data to research." Finally this whole thing was over. How the hell had I let it get this far, anyway? I tried retracing the events step by step, but on a small scale everything had seemed to make sense. Chained together, it resulted in my own son bringing me to an orgasm in front of a crowd of strangers. At least we could finally get out of there. I'd have to make sure not to forget my money, we had earned that much. Then we could start processing what had happened. However, instead of telling us we could put our clothes back on, Dr. Sorensen simply said, "Stand up, Mr. Weaver." Julian appeared back in my view, an oddly content look on his face. Had he enjoyed this? Surely not. He was just doing it because he knew I could lose my job. "At this point," Dr. Sorensen continued, "we would normally provide a condom, but fortunately we managed to find Mr. Weaver and his wife. It will give us much more accurate results without the use of an inhibitor to stimulation." Condom? Inhibitor? What was she talking about. Then it hit me. Julian was standing between my legs, and his massive cock pointed directly at my pussy. Was Dr. Sorensen serious? "Mr. Weaver, if you would be so kind," she said, and Julian didn't need to be told twice. Dr. Sorensen removed the video camera from the tripod, and trained it directly on my crotch. I gasped when the tip of Julian's cock parted my still sensitive lips. He was so big, I was surprised it managed to fit. He worked his massive girth in me, stretching me. Feeling the veins on his cock sliding along my labia felt incredibly good. His hands gripped my thighs, and he started thrusting his cock in and out. Holy shit, it felt good. I've dated guys with what I considered big dicks, but none of them had ever made me feel this way. Dr. Sorensen was saying something, but the sensation of Julian fucking me was too intense for me to make out her words. Every thrust of Julian's hard cock reignited the embers of my previous orgasm, rapidly building up another peak. I looked up and behind me. On the big screen, Julian's cock was sliding in and out of my wet lips in full, close up detail, missing only the wet squelching accompanying each thrust. Hundreds of people were watching my own son's cock buried deep inside my throbbing cunt. I closed my eyes, and surrendered myself to the pleasure. Dr. Sorensen kept commentating, but her words were lost on me. I was dimly aware of Julian's cock twitching and pulsating, his seed shooting deep into my pussy, while my own orgasm rocked my senses. Julian pulled out, and I was left with a gaping hole I desperately wanted to be filled again. I opened my eyes again, and the first thing I saw was Julian, smiling down at me. I smiled back, still on a post orgasmic high. "Excellent," came Dr. Sorensen's cheerful voice. "This is fantastic data." She inserted the camera back into the tripod. I looked up at the wall, and was treated to a clear view of my red, raw labia, with my son's cum slowly dribbling out. "Everyone please show your appreciation for our volunteers, they have performed admirably." Dr. Sorensen started clapping, and the rest of the crowd joined in. It seemed incredibly loud, and just kept going, and going. Dr. Sorensen stepped close to me, covered the microphone with her hand, and said over the roaring noise of the crowd, "If you would like to get cleaned up, Mr. Price will show you where." I nodded, and she signaled him. I sat up, and gathered my clothes and purse off the floor. Taking my first step, I almost fell down, and had to use the examination table to prop myself up, while my legs recovered from the orgasms. Mr. Price led us through the door they had brought the machine in, and pointed at a door on the left side of the tiled hallway. "You can clean up in there," he said. "Thanks." It turned out to be a small locker room, with just one bench, and a sink. Julian followed me in, and closed the door behind him. "Is there, uh, a separate room for men?" asked Julian, looking around. "I think we're way past that now." "I suppose you're right." I dumped my things on the bench, turned on the tap, and splashed water on my face. My entire body felt sticky with sweat, and I wished the locker room had a shower. Oh, well. I wiped my pussy and thighs with my panties. The amount of cum I wiped off seemed almost too much. Not bothering with the soiled underwear, or the bra, I just pulled on my dress, stuffing the rest into my purse. Julian was just pulling on his shirt, and with a pang of regret, I was sad to see his cock already hidden behind jeans. "How are you doing?" I asked him, concerned, after what we had just gone through. "I'm not sure. That was incredible...but..." "I know." "I mean it was all for a good thing, right? We helped Dr. Sorensen gather data. And you still have a job." "Yeah, absolutely." "We only did it for demonstration, right?" "Definitely." "You're my mother." "Yeah." "It can't happen again." "It can't." "Special circumstances." "Special circumstances," I echoed his words. He was right, of course. "We should get out of here, I guess." "Yeah, let's go." Mr. Price was waiting for us behind the door. Wordlessly, he handed me a slip of paper. It was a check, for the sum of two thousand dollars. I had almost forgotten about that. "Thank you," I said, putting it into my purse. "As agreed upon." We went back into the lecture hall. Dr. Sorensen was in the middle of a sentence, explaining the effect of rising serotonin levels on the human body. After sitting back down in our empty seats, the woman to my left leaned over, and said, "Wow, Mrs. Weaver, you're a lucky woman." I had no idea how to respond to that, and fortunately I didn't have to. "Thank you all for listening," Dr. Sorensen's voice boomed through the speakers, wrapping up her speech, "and once again I would like to thank our volunteers. I hope you have learned something useful today, and if you are interested in finding out more about Life-Monitor Systems, or the Center for Lectures and Illness Therapy, Mr. Price will remain to answer any of your questions. Thank you." Everyone broke out in applause, including myself. "So, that's it?" asked Julian. "I guess so. Unless you want to buy one of those machines," I replied. "Do we just go, then?" "Yeah." Everyone else seemed to be leaving, too, and we just followed the throng of people outside. The fresh air was good, even if it was cold, and I breathed in deeply. We had almost made it to the car, when a voice behind us shouted, "Mr. and Mrs. Weaver!" I turned around, and Dr. Sorensen was making her way through the crowd of people. "What's up?" "I am so glad I have caught the two of you. I have to say you have been our most promising volunteers yet, and I would like to offer the two of you a deal." "And what would that be?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. "I have a number of lectures coming up, and I would like to hire both of you as the performers in the practical demonstration. You would of course be compensated at the same rate for your troubles." I looked at Julian, and didn't even have to see his vigorous nodding, before I replied, "Yes, absolutely. We'll do it."