Diary Of A Stripper Mom

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.

Mysteries, Enigmas, Cubicles, And Puzzles

The latest submission to The Magic Weekend is about a young professional man who spends his days in an office cubicle and his nights doing whatever comes to mind for his mood. His actual story does not have even one of the five criteria for being here on The Magic Weekend, there is no Sex, no Jail, no Blood, no Money, and no Fame. So why am I adding this e-mail to the collection of my stories? That will be a question that you must answer for yourselves after you read and digest the information provided. Personally, I think that Robert believes that if he gets his story out there that he may finally see and end or a beginning to something in his future. You see, his story is one of covert lust that, to date, has not been resolved and he hopes that by walking us through his story that it will help him look for clues he has yet to discover. As always, I try to provide as many pictures as I can. This is one of those cases that I can only provide the two pictures you see as the other 30 some odd pictures are just a wee bit racy. I’m not in the habit of censoring what people read or see but I would like to keep my blog somewhere in the PG rating. With no more from me, let’s get on with Robert’s torrid little story.

“Hello, my name is Robert and I have a truly bizarre story for you today. My story actually takes much longer than a mere weekend, it has gone on for right at 4 weeks now. I’m sending you a mess of pictures in the order that I received them to better illustrate what has been happening. Where do I begin. How about a little background of what I do for a living as well as how I spent my time away from work. If you look through the pictures you will see one or two showing a gaggle of cubicles. That is my work environment. This is where I sit for basically 10 hours a day, cut off from the world below me and from any outside contact with other human beings. The job is real monotonous but it pays my bills leaving me with enough money to still enjoy my life here in Houston. I’m not from Houston, I’m actually a transplant who was chasing the all American dream of having a good career and making a good salary. I grew up and went to college at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas (UNLV), graduating with my degree in Kinesiology. When it came time for job placement I was put on to information about a company in Houston that specializes in the design, concept, and implementation of biomechanics and orthopedics. When I accepted the job offer it was at the bottom tier of the career path. I figured I had to start somewhere, why not doing research, analysis, and comparison. Translation, I read and I read and I read. Then I get to provide my information for statistical analysis which is used for approach and further investigation. Sounds complicated, but it’s really not too bad. How does this play into everything? It has everything to do with it. My social life and work life does not overlap, meaning that I have work friends and I have friends outside work, the two never cross that line. In over a year of being with this company I can think of only one other text I received while I was at work and that was from my mother wishing me a great first day of work. Which, would have been a real push of enthusiasm for me it had actually been on my first day and not eleven days into it. I know she meant well. Anyway, right at four weeks ago I get a text from a number I don’t recognize. It’s a local number so I figure I will look at it and see what is up. When I opened it up I had to look around to see if anyone saw me looking at the picture of the girl which was being displayed. The text read “I’ve been watching you and have noticed that you have not noticed me yet”. Slowly I peek out over the top of my cubicle to look around, to see if I could see anyone looking at me that looked like this girl. I got nothing. It actually ruined my whole day because I couldn’t stop trying to figure out who she was. Not real good for productivity. It is what it is though. I ended up taking work home with me because of the entire day being a bust.

The next day about the same time in the morning I get another text from this mysterious creature. By now I think she is really trying to get my attention because that picture was a bit more exposing. Thinking to myself I don’t want to get any further behind or get fired I put my phone away and got back into getting my work done. Lunch rolled around, we get a whole 30 minutes which usually leads to most people just bringing their lunch and eating in the lunch room. On that day I decided to go to the atrium area of our building to get away from my other distractions and have a few minutes to try to figure out who this girl was and what she wanted. I keep thinking she is sending these pictures to the wrong person and that I am not the intended target of her affections. Don’t get me wrong, the attention is nice, even if it isn’t for me. It can’t be for me or can it. This continued every following day. Everyday I paid attention to who was around me no matter where I was at. Thursday nights is when my friends and I get together and usually go see a new movie and then go to a local bar to shoot darts and have a few beers. I found myself getting real paranoid because I could not figure out who she was. After about 4 weeks the pictures started becoming quite explicit, to say that I was getting to see a new side of her each day would be a complete understatement to say the least. The last picture I got of her was impressive, she is quite limber and acrobatic, it was sent with this message which haunts me still to this day. It read “I’m sorry you haven’t figured out who I am in your life. Be at the Red Lion Pub tonight at 10pm. look for me and you will see me”. Really? I couldn’t believe what I was reading.

I went home after work in quite a hurry. I needed a shower and to get dressed. I felt like a girl getting asked out on a first date. I don’t have allot of leisurewear as most of my wardrobe is casual business attire. I mixed and matched and finally thought I had it figured out. Then, I was done, walking out the door. I wanted to get there early and do a little situational observation. In reality I wanted to check the place out and see which one of my jackass friends was going to jump out and say “Gotcha!”. What I got was a fistful of mass disappointment and despair. I sat there until the placed closed down. Well, I actually didn’t just sit in one spot, I would walk around, sit at a new spot, walk around, and so forth, all night long. She never showed up. For some reason I didn’t include this in the options of what could happen that evening. She didn’t show, it was plain and simple. Did she get cold feet. Right about closing I decided to text her and ask her where she was and if she forgot about our meeting. There was no reply. I called her, my call went straight to voicemail. I left her the voicemail message of “sorry I missed you tonight, maybe another time”. I collected my belongings and hailed a taxi to take me back home. I waited for a call or a text, any sign that I wasn’t crazy and that she had a great reason or no reason for standing me up. Nothing. That nothing is what continued from that point forward. I waited like a love struck puppy for an entire week for something, anything from her. At the end of the week I called her one last time and was answered with a recorded message telling me that the number I was trying to reach is not available. Did she change her number? Was the other one disconnected? I will never know since I never even knew her name. So, back to my life, back to the cubicle, I will always have more questions than answers, it will always be a mystery to me who she would be to me, I feel a bit heartbroken but know it wasn’t all real. I mean, it happened, but it didn’t actually mean anything. Now, I have some very enigmatic memories of a nameless girl who was very talented. I won’t ever solve this puzzle, but if I do I will be sure to update you.

Can y’all see now why I included this as a Magic Weekend submission. There was the promise of something from someone. The story intrigued me enough that I found myself feeling bad for this guy. I found myself wanting to reach out to help him. Therefore, I included his story here. Makes me wonder though, was she just screwing with him? Was he the intended recipient of all those texts? Is this that has been lost to ever be found ever again? Answers I will probably never know. I hope y’all enjoyed Robert’s story. I look forward to all the submissions I get to the Magic Weekend. Just e-mail them to me. What did your weekend involve? Sex? Jail? Blood? Monet? Or Fame? Send me your story now and see it here in the very near future. Thanks for stopping by and I look forward to your many returns.