Authors Note: All characters are fictional and are over eighteen years of age.
My Mother the Stripper -- Chapter one.
This story starts on my twenty first birthday. My family took me out to dinner at a fancy restaurant, instead of being seated in the main dining room we were led to a small banquet room. That's when I knew something was up. The room was dark and when I walked through the doorway the lights quickly came on and everyone yelled "SURPRISE!"
The room had a banner along the back wall that said "Happy 21st Jeremy." There were red and blue balloons and silver streamers.
Besides my dad and step mother, there were my two half-brothers Tim and Randy. Of the three of us, I was the oldest (and shortest.) The rest were cousins and co-workers. The linen covered table had twelve place settings.
Right next to the door was the gift table. Another table had a punch bowl on it and next to it was my Birthday Cake.
After birthday greetings all around we were seated. A fancy Prime Rib dinner was served and the room was abuzz with small talk. I was directed over to the cake, my step mother lit the candles and I posed for pictures. I blew out the candles and had the honor of cutting the cake.
I was told to take my place again at the head of the table and two of my young cousins brought me the gifts, one at a time. I received the usual tee shirts, can cozies, and beer steins, lots of beer steins. My parents got me a thousand dollar saving's bond. My dad looked at my step mother and said to me,
"We do have one more gift."
My dad handed me a thick manila envelope. I bent out the clasp and opened the flap. A greeting card fell out as well as many hundred dollar bills. It was ten thousand dollars in cash. Someone in the crowd asked,
"Who the heck would have sent you a pile of cash?"
"Well read the card," said another.
My hands were shaking when I took the card out of its paper shroud.
It was just a plain card with a drawing of cake and candles on the face, inside were simple hand written words.
"Jeremy, I know I wasn't there when you grew up but I understand you have grown into a fine young man. Here's a little something to help you discover Adulthood."
It was signed simply, "Mom."
I wiped tears from my eyes and asked my dad where it came from. My step mother chimed in,
"A courier dropped it by today," my father nodded in reluctant agreement.
I never really knew my mother, my dad had divorced her when I was two. The last thing I was told was that she was living overseas in the Peace Corps or something. The only contact she'd ever made with me was to just send me presents for Christmas and my birthday.
She did have a good suggestion, I should go discover Adulthood. I spent a few days pondering what I would do or where I would go, then the answer suddenly came to me. I needed to find my biological mother and find out why she left me with my father.
About a week later, when I was putting some cardboard into the recycle bin, I accidently dropped my phone. As I was trying to retrieve it I came across some brown paper, similar to a shopping bag. But there was something different about it. It had my father's name and address on it, like it had been used to ship a package.
Then I saw the return address.
"Box 738 Dallas Texas, 75211."
A short handwritten note was stuck to the paper,
"Please give this to our son, but don't let him know where I am, signed Roxy"
I did an internet search on that address and it was to a place called the "Blue Heaven Gentlemen's Club."
My parents had lied to me, she wasn't living overseas, and she was a thousand miles away living in Texas. Apparently she was a bar tender or stripper or something. I was mad at my parents at first, but it did make sense why they didn't tell me the truth, they were shielding me from the reality of my mom's true life.
I had so many questions for my mother, I couldn't understand why she had given me up and left. I decided that I had to find out for myself.
I put most of the cash into my debit account and kept out a little pocket money. I had no choice but to drive to Dallas and try to meet my biological mother.
It was a two day drive to Dallas but I finally made it. My GPS took me to the address from the package. It was a Gentleman's club aright and it was located adjacent to a Truck Stop at the junction of two main Interstate highways.
The building was small compared to its surroundings, but well kept. A scroll sign indicated the opening hours and listed the girls that would be dancing that night. I watched the names scroll by, there was a Jasmine, Crystal, Angel, Cinnamon and then Roxy.
Roxy had to be my mother Roxanne.
It was getting late and I was tired, so I didn't go in, I just checked myself into the adjacent motel.
The next morning I stopped into the Truck Stop for some breakfast. As I ate, I started working scenarios through my head as to how I was going to approach my mother without making a scene. Seeing my mother naked the first time I meet her wasn't all that appealing either.
As I pondered what to do, I noticed three ladies that could be strippers sitting at the counter. They had all the signs of dancers; hot pants, halter tops, knee high leather boots. They were wearing wigs and they had heavy make-up on their faces.
Suddenly I heard someone utter my mother's name and there she was, my jaw dropped. It was my mother, she looked like she just came from a gym. Her long auburn hair was still wet like she had just taken a shower.
She was about five foot two and looked stunning in her black sports bra which barely covered her proportionately sized breasts. She was wearing orange laced trunks with large white strips down the sides. Her exposed midriff showed off her tight six-pack abs. She sat down away from the women at the counter. At five foot six, I've always been shorter than my half-brothers, now I know where I got it from.
I found myself wanting to stare, but I didn't dare. It seemed impossible that she was someone's mother, let alone mine. I thought of talking to her but I knew I'd be tongue-tied. I did find it odd that the other women seemed to shun my mother, they hardly even acknowledged her.
It promptly occurred to me that if I wanted to learn about my mother, the best way was to observe her without identifying myself.