The Life of a Little Girl … She Never Wanted to BE…

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As many of you know, I’ve been working on a second edition of my book, “Secrets of the Velvet Closet; A Memoir” that’s been re-edited and redone so it read more smoothly and made more sense. Well my wonderful readers…. it’s finally here! I will be posting a generous sample here so that you can see how interesting it is for yourself. I hope to gather all the views that I can to show the world people do care about those who’s voices haven’t been heard. Whether it be abuse sexually, abuse verbally, black sheep for personality, black sheep for sexuality, sibling rivalry, or whatever it may be. I believe this book has it all and will open your eyes to what’s real in life and how it hides in the darkest corners in the world that no one sees with their eyes, but would with their heart if they were to open up and allow the feelings to come through. It’s hard to go back into your world whenever whatever happened and relive what they did or said to you. I know I’ve been working on it for the last two years. I’ve gone from tears of sadness to tears of joy to shame to pride all in the same 300 pages. It has been the single most eye opening experience I have had in my whole life. The really hard part is knowing anyone in the world including my family have the ability to read what I’ve been keeping locked up for so long. Why I am the way that I am and what it was that kept me locked up in that closet for so long. It’s been a real roller coaster ride with more emotions that I’ve known to deal with. I believe when you read this book, it will change your life and it will open your heart and mind more than you’ve ever known how. . . with out further ado….

Prologue

Growing up I had some real struggles with my sense of self, and obviously with my sexuality. I hid in churches from all the alcoholism in my family, and I secretly hid all my emotions and feelings in my poetry. My writing has always been an outlet for me to get everything out. It was sort of like my own personal therapy. Every now and then in my blog, I hear from someone who has been touched by what I wrote. To be honest, the struggle with my sexuality was not really my biggest struggle growing up. Yes, I did have thoughts and emotions that I didn’t understand. However, I did have something else going on with me that I didn’t know went even deeper than I had ever imagined…

 

Note to Reader—

“This is a true story from the author’s point of view. All names have been changed to protect the innocent.”

I started grinning from ear to ear. We went into my bedroom and she started loving on me, kissing me, telling me that I was pretty and sexy, and talked me down from being upset. She did the whole feminine thing, and reminded me that I was her dyke, her lesbian…and I sure as hell wasn’t going to argue.

As we continued to fool around, I tried to tell Lindsay that we shouldn’t be doing this, but I found out very quickly that she was very dominant—and a sensitive dominant. From that point on, I called Lindsay my girlfriend. We would pass love notes between classes. Lindsay had her boyfriends, but it didn’t matter because she was very lovey. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake I had previously. She wasn’t a lesbian and never would be a lesbian, but I was still hers, and I took it. She was extremely affectionate, very attractive, thicker around the waist, really long dark hair, very feminine, and wore perfume and makeup. Sound familiar? I seemed to be developing a pattern in my choice of women.

Lindsay had an extreme obsession with perfume and cologne, which was at the very least amusing. She would spray me with various colognes and tell me, “You stink pretty.” She would make this same comment about rooms, a man, a woman, a teacher, or whatever. If it stank pretty, she would let you know.

Public displays of affection were no problem for my Pebbles. She was very touchy-feely. If things started to get weird, she would show attention to her boyfriend first, and then to me. That was pretty much how it worked in public. However, when we were together and behind closed doors, it was my place to be her girlfriend and her lover. Lindsay was my first one-on-one, woman-on-woman, passionate, full-on naked, sexual experience, and Oh-My-God, was she a sexual goddess. This happened in a house where she was staying…with her boyfriend in the bed across the room. We were both lying on the floor across the way.

The first time it happened, she told me how much she loved me. She started calling me her Ducky, which was from that dinosaur movie, The Land Before Time. From there on, the sexual frequency increased, but it was different with this girl—it wasn’t all about sex. It was 100 percent about the both of us. I received a mondo amount of affection from her quickly. I fell for Lindsay hard and fast, but I wasn’t necessarily in love. It was more of a lusty love or friends with benefits type deal. And I wasn’t complaining.

As my feeling started to grow, I began to notice that we never talked about our future or our lives. I broke my rule, sat Lindsay down, went out on a limb, and told her how I felt. I decided that I would take care of her through high school and asked her to drop her boyfriends. She looked at me and told me that she loved me dearly but she wasn’t a lesbian. This girl was having sex with me every chance we had, but she wasn’t gay. Go figure. She told me she couldn’t be with me because she would miss the dick. My jaw about dropped to the floor. She went on and said she liked it, she loved it, she loved the taste of it, but she loved me, too. She wanted to continue being with me, but she just couldn’t be in a relationship with me. I was absolutely crushed.

Riddle me this…if you’re sneaking around with a girl and having more sex with the girl than you are with your own boyfriend, how does this make you straight? Anyway, I went a long time before talking to Lindsay again and spiraled through a horrible depression.

At school, the girls would make it apparent that I was a friend until the guy they crushed on showed a liking toward me. I never tried to do anything about it. I wasn’t into boys, except on this one occasion. I had one boyfriend my freshman year and his name was Toby. I used to wear the chain from his wallet around my neck as a necklace and ended up starting a fad. We were together for a good half a school year. He was a troublemaking, smooth-talking badass with really great eyes, and an intoxicating smile. Well, he was also a good cover to be honest. If I dated him, no one would know that I was a lesbian at this new school. I really wanted to make friends and a good impression.

Later on, I found out that I was also a good cover for his sexual escapades outside of school. We would kiss and cuddle, and for some time, he was my rock. But one day we skipped school, and he attempted to have sex with me. I declined his offer and wanted to go back to school, out of fear of getting in trouble. It was all over between us.

Other than my confusing feelings regarding Lindsay, and my half a year with Toby, I continued to keep the promise I made to myself, and I did a really good job making friends freshman year. People would write me notes and wave when I walked by. I held my head high, and I was proud of myself—until I inadvertently got myself involved in a drug deal. *sigh*

There was a boy (so many problems start with that saying, don’t they?) in my math class who really liked me. He started showing me a lot of affection, and I was all about it. Since I previously had so many issues in school, this boy and I struck a deal. He gave me assignments in school and got the upperclassmen to be kind to me, and in return, I would make sexy sounds for him over the phone. Once again, I was receiving attention and I didn’t care. No one bothered me at school and that was my priority.

This boy really started to like me and one day at school mentioned he had a bag of weed he couldn’t get rid of and wanted me to buy it. I didn’t want to buy his weed, but he threatened to tell everyone about the phone sex if I didn’t. He offered me a discount of a fatty and three smaller joints for fifteen dollars. I told him fine and I would buy it just this once. I informed him we would no longer have phone sex and that this made us even and he agreed. I went out to his truck, handed him a humungous bag of change, and in exchange, he told me if I got caught, I didn’t know him.

At this point, a so-called friend witnessed the drug deal and confronted me. She knew that the boy she had a crush on also happened to like me. I informed her that I had no interest in her crush, but words didn’t matter to her. She insisted I march up to him and flat out say, “I don’t like you.” Otherwise, she was going to narc me out to the principal. When I refused, she scurried off to the principal’s office without even looking back. I knew I was in trouble, and with haste, I took off in the other direction trying to find the quickest way to rid this unwanted bag of weed. Immediately, I spotted my locker buddy, gave him the fatty, and without hesitation, he placed it in his art pen and took off to the bathroom to flush it. I took the other joints, squished them, and hid them in some gum wrappers. Somehow, I knew I wasn’t going to be in class long. Upon sliding into my seat, I didn’t bother taking out my book. The teacher started ripping on me for not being prepared. Before she could scold me any further, the principal, vice principal, and the police entered the classroom. This would be the start of a very long day…

 Continued here…

So if you have made it this far, I suspect I caught your attention. I’m currently looking for an agent or a real publisher to accept my work. I also have an indie film maker look at my book to see if it may be movie material. I’m not trying to be a millionaire off my book, but making a bit to carry through life would be ok. It’s more about reaching people across the world and showing them it’s “ok”. I’ve been working my whole life on opening up people’s eyes to what goes on behind closed doors. Whether it’s men, women, children, animals or whatever. What honestly scares me is knowing that it still goes on. I protect my children and my family to the greatest extent that I can. I try to keep drugs, alcoholism, abuse, violence, and everything bad away from them. Not because I feel they couldn’t handle it, but because I feel they shouldn’t have to. A child shouldn’t have to hear, “get me a beer”, or “you stupid asshole”, or “you are so fucking retarded”, or “pass the bowl”, or whatever else comes out of irresponsible parents mouths toward their children. This and more we deal with everyday with out even knowing we are doing it.
It’s much easier to just turn the other cheek and forget you heard what you heard or saw what you saw… until now…

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