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Sitting at the kitchen counter waiting for the tea pot to whistle, I glanced around my living room. The light gray leather sectional wrapped around half the room. The large glass coffee table fit perfectly with the oversized sofa. I can’t believe this is my life.
My mother died from ovarian cancer when I was sixteen years old. Some days are easier than others. I would give up my beautiful apartment in Midtown Atlanta to have her back.
While stirring my orange tea, a tear fell inside the pretty colorful ceramic mug. Never thought I would have to strip at eighteen years old. I am an only child. My parents were both teachers. My mother taught third grade math. My father was a college professor. My mother was sick for two years. My father had to cut down his work load due to my mother’s poor health.
The University was understanding. My father was able to lecture two days a week and hold classes online for the remaining three. He refused the assistance of a nurse. He said he could take care of his wife. I’d watch my mother sleep in my Dad’s arms. Sometimes, the tears poured down his face. I cried for him. Their dream was to grow old together. Now he watched her deteriorate before his eyes. I couldn’t imagine what it’s like to watch the woman he loves die.
I want a man to love me the way my father loved my mother, unconditionally.
My mother Lorena Lydia Baker was a petite African-American woman who was part Cherokee Indian with brown eyes. My father said he loved my mother’s middle name and wanted me to share her name. When I was born he named me Lydia. That story always brings a smile to my face.
My father Alastair Stuart Carmichael is part Scottish and African-American. He’s almond complected with gray eyes.
My father loved my mother’s dark chocolate skin. He’d often brush his fingers along her arms.
My mother’s coworkers were supportive. Often, they’d send casseroles to our house. They would also perform household chores. We were fortunate to have them and my mother’s parents. My father’s parents passed away when I was seven then eight. My grandfather died a year after my grandmother from a broken heart.
Despite all the sadness surrounding my mother’s illness, our home was filled with love.
Watching my mother slip away while in Hospice was traumatic. I couldn’t sleep for weeks after she passed away. My father didn’t get out of bed sometimes for days after my mother’s passing. He was understandably depressed. At sixteen, I was able to slick my hair into a ponytail, cook meals for me and my dad, and get myself off to school. At seventeen, my father’s health began failing.
The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I stayed with my grandparents, visiting my dad in the hospital often. Mother’s life insurance money didn’t last long. My father used most of it to pay off our home. The rest of the money began going toward medical bills. By the age eighteen, I told my dad to save the last twenty thousand and I would pay his medical bills. He used his pension from Georgia State University to pay for property taxes, groceries, and monthly bills.
CHAPTER THREE
LYDIA
I never lied to my father before. However, I told him I was working at a computer software company. Luckily, I have a full college scholarship. The stripper job would allow me to pay his medical bills. I couldn’t believe I, Lydia Rena Carmichael, was going to become a stripper.
My cousin Karena who grew up around the corner from me, turned me onto the idea of stripping. She said with my cute face and body I would do well. Her body is stacked. Voluptuous breasts, tiny waist, big ass, and thick thighs. Her dark chocolate complexion gains her the attention of the high rollers. She’s willing to go farther then I’d ever be willing to go. There was an older customer who’d give her ten stacks just for sucking his dick in the parking lot.
Once she met Bryce she was able to get off her knees. She said she didn’t mind sucking dick, but she wouldn’t allow every man to fuck her. Not sure what Bryce said to her because he gets the royal treatment. You can look into his eyes and see he likes her a little more then he’d like to admit. Her high cheek bones, slanted eyes, and long jet-black hair have several men hypnotized. She’s like me mixed, black and Cherokee Indian.
