I was a stripper long before I had ever thought of being a mother. In fact, I was stripping long before I ever hit the strip bar scene. Dancing naked for money always was a way for me to have money in my pockets. I thought, when I was a sophomore in high school that stripping for the guys was a way to get and keep their attention. That evolved from stripping for weed and alcohol to doing it for money. It wasn’t large amounts of money, but for a hanfulvof bills a guy could watch me move in ways that made them “fall in love” with me. Sometimes I would get the vibe from a return guy and things would get a little closer, get a little more intimate, and get a little hotter. At times I would find myself very horny and very sexually aroused, sometimes to the point where I would let the guy touch me or sometimes I would touch him. In the end, I learned a handjob or a blowjob went a long way towards guys coming back, and when they did they brought friends who would bring money. I lived this secret little life for quite a while. Close to the mid second semester of my junior year I found out I was pregnant. The result of a party that got way out of hand with some college boys. I had gotten very wasted on something or another and appearantly I passed out. Rumor has it that 5 or 6 of them had fucked me so brutally that I was taken to the emergency room because I was bleeding so heavily. As a result of that night, the night I lost my virginity to more than one guy I would soon find out I was pregnant.
Shortly after I began to show signs that I was pregnant I made the choice to leave home, to leave high school, to leave everything behind, and live with my aunt in New Mexico. With only a month to go before my son was to be born I was approached by the parents of one of the college boys involved. They had a substantial offer for me. They offered me $50,000.00 in exchange for my son. They offered to make sure I graduated high school, to put me through college, and leave me with a healthy sum of money as a nest egg to start myself a life. The only catch was that I could never contact them for any reason and I would never be able to see my son. That was many years ago. They held up their end of the deal. Before anything was done I found myself signing legal documents for the arrangements and the adoption of my son. They paid all the hospital bills when the time came. They paid for me to fly back to Houston so I could move back home and finish high school. After I graduated high school, I made my way into the University of Houston, where I graduated with honors with a business degree. After I graduated, a few weeks went by, and I received a large manilla envelope delivered by a messenger. There was a letter in it along with three sets of keys. The letter was brief and very business like, but it explained quite a bit.
The first set of keys was for a house, included with the keys to the house was a deed, in my name, and the closing documents showing I owned the house outright. The second set of keys were for a new Nissan Titan pickup. Also included was the title and proof of insurance. The letter stated I would find the truck in the garage of the house. The last set of keys went to a safe deposit box. The only information provided was the address where the safe deposit box was located. I went to the bank that was listed in the letter and then sat in a room, alone staring at a closed safe deposit box because I feared opening it. After about 15 minutes I did open it and when I did I cried like the day I gave up my son. There were 4 items in the box. On top was a envelope with a note and a picture of a boy. The note, dated just days prior, explained this was a picture of my son at age 7. The note said the other contents, which were cash and two checks, were to get my life started. I removed everything from the box and put it all in my purse, except the picture, I walked out carrying the picture. I had been saving allot of the money they have sent over the years not knowing exactly what for.
Over the years I had more than one part time job, being a waitress was always the most productive for me personally. I found being a waitress in strip bars paid very well and often did it because it was very familiar to me. While in college I needed to form a business plan as a project and show on paper the birth and success of my business in order to pass these classes. I used that business plan and a fair sum of the money left for me to open my dream business. My business was literally built from the ground up with the help of a very special friend who was an aspiring architect at the time. After the planning, zoning, and licensing, we broke ground. Thirteen months later I opened the doors for the very first time to Club X. The club had grand success in its first two years and I took the business opportunity to open a second location in Dallas.
One day, out of the blue, the head of security for the club entered my office and announced I had a visitor. A young boy, around 11, introduced himself to me in the politest way I have ever heard. He handed me an envelope so I could read the documents inside. I broke down in tears because I was reading custody papers involving my son. Releasing me of my prior contracts and legal agreements. I looked up to see my son walking to me, telling me everything will be okay now, I am home now momma. Indeed he was, my baby boy was finally home. Skip forward now, several years, in one short week I will watch him walk across the stage to graduate high school.
The above accounts were never told to me while I was an employee (bartender) at Club X. Instead, I received a letter from my former boss along with a graduation invitation from her son. I was given her permission to retell her story here. I guess this goes to show that even though you might think you know a person, you never really know that person. The above picture was taken two months ago at her 35th birthday party where she performed as a part of the festivities. She still performs flawlessly as y’all can probably imagine. Now, to keep my blog out of trouble, y’all only get to see the one picture. Why? Let’s just say that Club X was born a full nude strip club and has always remained a full nude strip club. It was a cool night for me, however, because I always wondered what was underneath her attire and unlike most employees. I got to see my boss dancing in her birthday suit on her birthday. Bonus for me. As a note, this post was written a few days ago, sent to her via email for approval, and is now in the green for posting.
Over the years I have tried to bring a human touch to the world of the strip club when telling individual stories on “Scorpion Stings Bartender Stories” but so far, this had been the one that will forever leave its mark on me. I offer an invitation to all of y’all who might have a story to tell of your own, just email it to me with your pictures and I will put it in one of three categories, The Sting Of The Scorpion, Scorpion Stings Bartender Stories, or The Magic Weekend. I am always looking for new life stories to add for people to read. You can find descriptions of each category within the links found to the top and to the right on this blog.
A couple of months ago I received a letter in the mail that made some, in my opinion, really outlandish claims. It was a letter that took quite a bit to digest because the information made sense but at the same time confused the hell out of me. The first person I talked to about this letter was my oldest daughter (23 y/o) because I was hoping she might help me make sense of it enough where I could have a talk with my wife that actually made sense. In the beginning of the letter the woman identified herself (I will refer to her as “ST) as the granddaughter of my biological mother (I will refer to her as JT). I was 2 sentences in to the letter and now I was a little pissed. Let me track back a few years and I will explain. I will assume from this point forward that y’all know I’m adopted. I located my biological mother back in 2002 and the short version was I was fed a boatload of bullshit that took me roughly 8 years to unravel. When I unraveled what I was able to find out I was able to find my biological father (died in 2004) which led me to tracking down his wife, which eventually led to me finding their children, and in 2009 I met a majority of them when attending my eldest daughter’s high school graduation in South Dakota where the biologicals also happened to live. Anyway, the long and the short of this is that my biological mother (JT) said without saying that she does not have time for me in her life and wishes that I will discontinue contact. Her wish was my command and I do not have contact with her nor have I met her yet because she has declined meeting me under any circumstances. Back to the beginning of the letter from ST. Granddaughter? This means that JT had children or at least one where she told me that after the “ordeal” with me that she never wanted any more children because she was heartbroken that she was forced to give me up for adoption since she was only 16 y/o at the time of my birth. Shall we go deeper into the rabbit hole?
ST went on to explain that she was the daughter of the youngest of two sons of JT. Dramatic pause please ………….. wait for it ………………. WTF did she just say???? Did she just say that my biological mother had two sons besides me? Unfuckingbelievable! Now ST had set the hook and was in the process of reeling me in, it was slow going because, as one might imagine, I was fighting the information a little bit because of my disbelief of what she was saying. I can’t help but reading on, pushing forward, looking for the next little surprise that she might have to offer. Here it comes, she didn’t ease into it at all, no cuddling and no foreplay, just jumped right into it. Apparently my biological mother is having some heath issues of some sort so ST was asked to come over to her house, because they live in the same town of Kingston Idaho, to help her do some cleaning. ST wasn’t there to help, she was there to do it herself because JT was in the hospital for a few days having tests done. While at JT’s house ST got to snooping around because she has never been in this house alone so she said it felt natural to look around a bit. ST had done some laundry and was in the process of hanging the dresses up in the closet when her hand bumped a large envelope. When she peeked to see what was in this stuffed envelope she saw pictures of her dad (RT), her uncle ( also JT), and another man she didn’t recognize (me). There were individual pictures of me while I was in the Air Force, individual pictures of her dad while he was in the Air Force that she had never seen, and one picture of her dad and myself together in our uniforms. She enclosed a copy of this picture. My first thoughts? Holy shit I met my half brother and neither of us even knew the relationship. ST had not made the connection at this point, it took her some time looking through letters that I had written to her over the years, 4 to be exact, none of which were ever answered. ST explained she was very stunned because grandma had some explaining to do. ST borrowed the envelope that afternoon knowing that grandma would not be home for a few days. She wanted to talk to her boyfriend of 4 years what he thought and if he had got the same impression from everything that was read, to include information about my adoption and so forth. He concluded the same thing, her grandmother was hiding all of this from the family for some reason. But, what was the reason? Why hide all of this for so many years? Why is it so important to keep this a secret? That information boys and girls may never be revealed.
After speaking with her boyfriend, ST spoke to her father in a very private setting. Her dad, RT, explained to her that it was ok to contact me since they had my phone number and address. So, she did contact me, she did write me the letter, and she did talk to her uncle as well. I reviewed what I knew about her dad. He was part of a select group of people that I hung around while I was stationed in New Mexico. He was on my “crew” but I knew all six of my crew pretty well because working with explosives you need to be able to know the “sides” of people and their moods as it helps to determine how they operate day to day. In fact, I knew ST as a young girl, I would guess she was 9 or 10 at the time, as well I knew his wife. Her dad and I had a weird relationship, we acted like siblings to one another, but were never really close by any means. We joked around well together and worked well together. As I read this letter I would pause to look at the picture she sent because I knew exactly when, where, and why the picture was taken. That in itself isn’t important, just had those flashback moments that in the end made me smile. After a very long talk with my wife the ultimate question was asked, she wanted to know what I was going to do. Well, first, I kissed her on the forehead, gathered up the letter, and headed out to my shop to be alone. I was mad. I was mad at a person who didn’t have the time for me to tell me she had two sons just a few years younger than me. I was mad that I wasn’t important enough to tell. I did allot of yelling at her in my shop, I called her things I don’t care to repeat here, and I cut up allot of wood that otherwise I would have used to make something nice. I worked thru my anger as the night passed. I would read the letter, stare in to the picture, read the letter some more, and then finally I folded the letter back up, replaced it into the envelope, closed up my shop, and went back up to the house since it was about 3 in the morning. I called her that day, I tried to be a cold hearted bastard and act as if I didn’t care, but it didn’t work because ST was so damn sweet to me. She knew she would be fucking my life up by sending the letter, but she knew she needed to tell me what she did for the sake of everyone involved, to include herself. She mentioned that she put all the papers back in her grandmothers closet and she isn’t any wiser that anything has transpired. St asked me if I was mad at her, I guess my tone was a little stressed, but I let her know I hold no anger for her because they were as clueless as I was. She mentioned how bizarre she thought it was that her grandmother would keep all this information about me but keep me a secret to all her family. All I could do at that time was agree with her.
Since then, I have spoken to ST and my two 1/2 brothers on a few occasions. I have not spoken to my biological mother. I have sat down and talked with my mother who finds everything I uncover over the years very interesting. Sadly, she has been able to provide zero help because she had parts of the same false information I began my journey with. But, she knows I am not family shopping. Any additional people brought into my life all have to understand I do have a life, that they also have a life, and just knowing all of this information is disruptive enough. Then a person has to process the lies, the deceit, the rabbit holes, and the sometimes high hopes which get deflated every so often. I don’t know if they will ever confront their mother with what they found out or with what I was able to tell them. Personally I don’t care. They will have to wrestle those demons on their own as I wrestle my demons on my own. I know what your thinking but I’m not really that selfish. As far as I am concerned I don’t have anything specific to say to my biological mother. If I never meet her in person I think I can live and die in comfort with my decision. It’s things like this in my life that demonstrate the exact reasons why I don’t trust too many people.