Her Mother's Daughter Pt. 01

Chapter 1

Life has a strange way of surprising you. One day things are going along perfectly and then suddenly everything you thought you knew gets flipped upside down. How we react to these changes defines us as people. Do we cave in and surrender our happiness to the unforeseen circumstances, or do we embrace change and adapt to deal with the new opportunities we face?

Sometimes those changes cause us pain and sorrow. Sometimes they hurt so badly that it becomes difficult to take a breath. Sometimes they leave us devastated and longing for the bliss of previous our lives, before the upheaval and chaos left in the wake of the changes.

Maybe it would be better if we all had crystal balls with which we could perceive our futures with total clarity. Would we want to know our fate if somehow the Universe could accurately reveal it to us? If we could understand that our marriage was doomed to serial infidelity or that our child would die in a horrible accident at the age of ten, would knowing help us? What would life be like if we knew what lay before us? What kind of life would we have if we knew precisely the outcome of every decision, every action?

I don't think I could live like that. I prefer to go through life without certainty, to take chances and hope for the best outcome. It hurts to lose something or someone you love. However, to avoid feeling love because you know it won't last is just sad beyond imagining. I would rather live in blessed ignorance and take each day as it comes, than base my feelings and actions on perfect prescience. I would prefer to enjoy as many years as possible in a love-filled marriage than remain single because I know that one day my husband will die.

As I sat staring out of the passenger window at the blaze of autumn colors and rocky peaks of the Colorado mountains, I wiped away a single tear. My husband Danny, always so perceptive, lightly caressed my arm. I met his gaze and tried to smile at him, but it would only come out halfway.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked, as he raised my hand and softly kissed my fingers.

I nodded, unable to put into words what I was feeling. I squeezed Danny's hand tightly and leaned my head on his shoulder. I let out a long, slow sigh and whispered, "Eventually."

My father was dead.

Technically, Thomas Winslow was not my father, but he was the only one I had ever known. My birth father was an unknown sperm donor who had raped my mother on her sixteenth birthday, leaving her battered, scarred emotionally, and pregnant with me. In her heart of hearts, she couldn't bear the thought of having an abortion. She believed all life was precious, even that of the illegitimate product of an act of violence. Thomas Winslow had been my mother's savior, and he had loved me as his flesh and blood.

My life began with one of those sudden surprises. One day my mother Maggie was a happy-go-lucky teenager, enjoying her life in a small town in rural Texas. The next day she was in the hospital with two black eyes, three broken ribs, and one embryo growing inside her.

To make things even worse, her Bible-thumping parents blamed her for being raped. They said the devil inside her made her dress in provocative clothing and entice men into fornication. "She got what she deserved," was, I believe, how my grandfather put it.

I lied when I said the sperm donor was unknown. He was known; in fact, he was very well known. His father was the mayor of their little town. Of course, he denied that it was rape. He said that my mother was a slut and had fucked all of his friends and he just took his turn. Everyone ignored the fact that she had been a virgin and had done nothing to provoke his attention.

As the pregnancy began to show, life became increasingly unbearable for Maggie. Her father was an abusive drunk, who decided that since his daughter was now spoiled, he might as well take advantage of her too. Her mother turned a blind eye to the abuse, blaming Maggie for that as well.

One day, Maggie had enough. She packed what little she owned into a backpack and left home. Nobody was surprised. Nobody cared. Nobody even looked for her. She was alone with no money and no hope. All she had was me.

She struggled to find a job, any job. She waited tables, washed dishes, and even cleaned people's houses. Once I was born, it became even harder for her. Welfare and food stamps helped, but life was difficult. Maggie never knew where her next meal would come from and had no hope for any kind of future. She came very close to giving me up for adoption. It wasn't because Maggie didn't love me; It was because she did. She thought it was the only chance I would have to secure a decent life.

That's when another one of life's sudden surprises happened. Maggie was working three jobs and caring for an infant. She was in a continuous state of exhaustion and desperation and arrived late at her waitressing job one too many times. Maggie begged Gus, the manager, to give her another chance, pleaded with him to not fire her. He refused. However, he had another way she could make some money.

Maggie was a beautiful girl. Even after having me, she was drop-dead gorgeous, with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and an incredible body. Men were always flirting with her and trying to get her to go out, or more. She wasn't at all interested. All she cared about was taking care of me.

When the manager of the restaurant told her that he had another business where she could make a lot more money than waiting on tables, she was intrigued. She knew that there were very few opportunities for a high-school dropout and single mother of a fifteen-month-old baby.

"A pretty girl like you can make a shit load of cash," he explained, "you just gotta be accommodating to the customers."

"What do you mean 'accommodating'?" she naively asked.

"You got a kid," he began, "so you ain't no virgin. I think you know what I mean. Plus, the way I hear it, you been known to give it away. All I'm saying is why give it away when you can make money doing it."

Maggie realized what he meant. "I ain't no prostitute!" she fired back defensively. "I'll go hungry before I do anything like that."

"Ain't nobody talking about prostitution. Hell, prostitution is illegal in Texas. You legal ain't ya?" he asked her as he stared at her body with lustful eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked, not sure exactly where the conversation was going.

"I mean you're eighteen now, right?" he asked as he pushed his chair back from his beat-up desk.

"Yeah, I turned eighteen a couple of weeks ago. Why?" Maggie asked, feeling lost.

"You got no high school diploma. Ain't nobody gonna give you no job that pays you three hundred dollars a week, after taxes. You got a baby to feed." He softened his tone and smiled at Maggie. "Look, you're a pretty girl. You got a body most women would kill to have. Why not do work that takes advantage of what you got to offer."

"Three hundred dollars?" she asked, mouth hanging open in surprise, "A week?"

"Hell, with your looks," he began, "you could probably make double that. Just depends on exactly how accommodating you're willing to be."

Maggie shook her head. She was growing angry. "I ain't gonna be no hooker."

Her former boss cut her off, "Maggie, ain't nobody asking you to be a hooker."

"Then what are you talking about?" she asked, the confusion clearly showing on her face.

"Look, I own a little club outside of town. It's kind of off the books and not something I would brag about in church on Sunday."

"What kind of club?"

"Well, it's kind of a dancing club."

"What kind of dancing club?"

"The kind of dancing club where pretty girls like you dance for men and show off their bodies."

"You mean a strip joint?" she asked, her voice rising several decibels.

"Pipe down, girl." he said, shushing her, "I don't need all these old biddies in here knowing my business. Yes, a strip joint. My cousin Darryl runs it, but I own it. If you want, I can hook you up with a job."

"You need waitresses?" she asked, innocently.

"Well, you could start out as a waitress and see what you think, but the real money is in dancing. You can dance can't you?"

"I was a cheerleader in school and on the dance team," she said, thinking back to better days.

"Then you would be perfect at it. The only difference is, you take off your clothes while you dance."

"I ain't gonna get naked for a room full of horny old men!"

"They ain't all old," he said, laughing, "but they are all horny. That's for damn sure."

"Why can't I just wait tables?"

"Maggie, the waitresses are topless. So, if you're gonna show off your tits, you might as well do it dancing and get a fuck of a lot more in tips than a waitress."

Maggie stopped and was thinking about it hard. Her three shitty jobs paid her about five dollars an hour, which added up to only about two hundred a week before taxes. With a job that paid this well, she could quit her other two and spend more time taking care of her baby.

"Look," he started in again, sensing her indecision, "you could do it one night and see how you like it. If you feel good, you come back and keep doing it. If you don't, then you go get a job someplace else. No harm, no foul."

"Can I try out as a waitress and see if I like that?"

"Baby, you don't want to be no waitress. All the waitresses are used-up trailer park trash and old women with saggy tits. A good looking girl like you, with no education and no prospects, was made to be a stripper. You will be the hottest one in the joint and the men will give you all their money just for a chance to be near you."

He was laying it on thick, but he meant every word of it.

"Three hundred a week?" she asked. Gus could tell he had her now.

"Minimum," he said, "just depends on how nice you are to the customers, and how much you are willing to show off."

Maggie had limited choices. She needed money, and she needed it now. She was behind on her rent and was probably two or three days away from being evicted.

"If I said yes, when could I start and when could I get paid?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

"You could start tonight. Try it out. See what you think. You keep whatever tips you get plus a cut of every table or lap dance and commissions on drinks and upsells. We pay out nightly from the cash drawer at the end of your shift."

She stood there contemplating it. She was undecided until her boss sweetened the pot.

"I'm so confident you're gonna make a ton of money, I'll front you a hundred bucks right now. All you gotta do is show up tonight at 8:30 and work until 1 AM. You pay me back the hundred out of your earnings and keep what's left. If you don't make enough, you keep everything, and we call it even."

He pulled a roll of bills out of his pocket, peeled off a hundred dollars and extended it to her.

Maggie stared at it for several seconds, then reached out and took it from him.

"Smart girl," he said as she put the money into her pocket. He wrote down the address and gave it to her. "Arrive around 8:30. I'll get you set up and teach you the ropes. Then you'll work from 9 or so."

"What should I wear?" she asked. She had never been to a strip club before and had no clue what was appropriate. Her boss thought about it for a minute before answering with a grin.

"Just wear what you have on. They'll love the waitress uniform."

Maggie nodded and started to leave.

"Oh, just one more thing," he said, stopping Maggie before she could get out of his office. She looked back at him over her shoulder.

"What's that?" she asked, looking nervous.

"I need to see you naked. I need to make sure you ain't got no scars or three tits, a monkey tail or anything weird."

She froze and stared at him. "You mean, now?"

"Yeah, that is if you want the job? If not, you can give me back my hundred bucks and get the fuck out of my office."

Maggie lowered her head in shame as she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. She stepped out of it and stood before her boss in only a simple white bra and practical white panties. Her breasts overfilled her 38D bra. The dark circles of her nipples were semi-visible through the white lace. Her full, hairy bush was also visible as a dark triangle in her underwear.

"You got any sexier underwear than that?" he asked as he stared at her body. She was incredibly uncomfortable. She'd only ever been this exposed to her rapist and her doctors.

"This is all I have," she replied quietly, embarrassed by her poverty-driven state. She was ashamed for having to sink this low.

Her boss peeled off some more bills and handed them to her. "Here's another hundred bucks. You don't have to pay this back. Go buy yourself something sexier. Get your kid something while you're at it. And for God's sake, eat something."

Maggie started crying as she took the money from him. "Thank you," she managed to say between sobs. She bent down to retrieve her dress.

"Hold on," he stopped her, "you ain't done yet. Take the rest off."

She looked up quickly meeting his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat. He was staring at her intently. She felt a tingling inside her that she didn't recognize like butterflies were swarming in her chest, belly, and lower. Her nipples hardened and pushed against the fabric of her bra.

She did as he told her and reached behind to unhook her bra, but Gus stopped her.

"Hang on, girl," he said sternly. "You need to take your time and do it slow. You're trying to seduce the men to get them to want to watch you and give you their money. It ain't just about taking off your clothes; it's about how you take them off."

She stood staring, not knowing what to do. "I don't know how to do that," she replied, sounding despondent.

"You can dance, right?" he asked rhetorically, "So, dance and turn around slowly."

She frowned. "There ain't no music."

"Pretend there is. Look the men in the eyes. You want to be in control. You have a lot of weapons at your disposal. You need to learn to use them."

"Weapons?" she asked, clearly confused, "What do you mean I got weapons?"

Gus laughed. "Yeah, weapons. You don't kill people with them, but you sure as hell can make men willing to do just about anything to see you or to touch you. You need to learn to use your weapons to make men your puppets, to control them."

The idea of being able to control men was intriguing to Maggie, but she wasn't connecting the dots.

"What weapons do I have?" she asked innocently.

"Well, your looks for one. You got that wholesome, girl-next-door, naive look that men love. You need to smile and look the men in the eyes, and you'll make them melt."

She smiled.

"See, now was that so hard?" Gus asked, chuckling.

"No," she answered, "it ain't hard."

"Now, your tits is one of your best weapons. Men will drool all over you for the chance to pay you to see them. Don't give it up so quickly. Make them work for it."

"Work for it?" she asked.

"Yeah, tease them. Make the customers think you're going to show them, then don't. Each time you do, you'll get their attention more and more. Don't tease too much, or you'll frustrate them. So, no more than three or four times."

"Three times. How do I tease them?" she queried, revealing her lack of experience.

"Damn, girl, ain't you never had a boyfriend or done anything to turn somebody on?" he asked, but knew the answer before she responded.

"Never mind. You can reach up and slowly pull a strap off your shoulder and wink at one of the men, then put it back. Then dance around a little, then pick another man, look into his eyes and pull both straps down. Leave them hanging down. Try that now."

Maggie nodded, then awkwardly danced around, looked at Gus and pulled the strap down, then put it back up.

"Slow down, Maggie," he chided, "this ain't a race. Make your movements slow and smooth."

She nodded again, then danced around.

"Keep eye contact with your customers," Gus called out.

Maggie looked at him as she danced.

"Smile!" he tossed out.

She gave him a small, soft smile that was incredibly sexy.

"Yeah that! Just like that. It makes you look horny." He saw her facial reaction to his words, then added, "You know what it's like to be horny, don't you."

Maggie looked at the floor.

"Oh holy hell," Gus said with exasperation. "I can see your nipples are hard as little rocks and you're breathing hard. What are you feeling right now, inside?"

Maggie thought about it.

"It's like butterflies are playing a football game inside me. It's like I'm scared and excited all at once like it's hard to breathe and even harder to think."

"What do you feel in your pussy?" Gus asked, but immediately modified his question, "between your legs, I mean."

"I know what a pussy is Gus," she said, smiling, "I ain't stupid."

Gus laughed warmly. Maggie was beginning to see a different side of the older man.

"Ok, well what do you feel in your pussy?"

"That's where the butterflies are the most."

Gus smiled, "That's what it feels like when you get horny. Your nipples get hard. You feel all tingly and your breath changes. Your pussy starts feeling warm. When you get really horny, your pussy starts to get wet."

Maggie made a slight gasp when she heard his explanation.

Gus noticed Maggie's reaction and surmised what the cause was. "Your pussy is getting wet now, isn't it?"

Maggie bit her bottom lip, then nodded her head slowly. "Is that bad?"

"Bad?" Gus replied with surprise. "Hell no, that's damn good, girl. Ain't nothing wrong with getting horny when you strip. Hell, you should be horny. The thing is, use that feeling to help you want to be sexy. To help you do sexy things. The sexier you act, the hornier you'll be. But, the men will be getting horny too. You'll have them wanting to fuck you in no time."

Maggie looked as if Gus had struck her. "I don't want nobody to fuck me, Gus."

"You don't have to let them fuck you," he corrected her, "you just need to make them want to."

"Why would I want them to want to fuck me?" she asked.

"So they will throw their money at you for the hope that they might get the opportunity."

She shook her head, "Alright, as long as I don't have to do it."

The conversation with Maggie was making Gus change his perception of the girl. He'd heard rumors that she had been a bit of a slut, but he was having severe doubts. He stared closely at her, then asked what was on his mind.

"How many times have you had sex, Maggie?" he asked. His tone was very gentle as he admired her nude form.

She blushed again.

"Just the one time and it was rape," she answered looking directly in her boss' eyes. "My daddy wanted to do the same thing, but I ran away before he could."

"You're shitting me," he said, sounding shocked, "you mean you ain't never had sex just for fun?"

She shook her head quickly back and forth.

"You ever just touch yourself, you know on your pussy just to feel good?" he asked.

"Why would I do that?"

"To cum, you know have an orgasm."

She stared at him.

"Wow, ok, we have a lot of work to do with you," he said, giving her a gentle smile. "There's a lot you need to know, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna make you learn it from the assholes who come to my strip club."

She raised her eyes to look at him. If she only knew what that look did to men, she'd be dangerous.

"Will you teach me, Gus?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed. "My wife would kill me," he said as he considered her question, "so we just won't tell her, will we?"

Maggie shook her head, "No sir."

"Ok, well go ahead and take the bra off, honey, just do it slowly," Gus instructed.

Maggie unhooked her bra, shrugged her shoulders, holding the bra to her tits for several seconds. She waited for Gus to nod, then let it fall to the floor next to her dress. My mother wanted to cover her breasts with her hands but knew the whole point was to show them off. She breathed in deeply, nervously, then straightened her back and pushed her chest out, presenting her bosom to him proudly.