I coined the phrase depicting my business location. The huse of ill-repute seemed natural and no othjer appelation would save for what I knew it tl be. The life of women who ply the trade have individual reasons for doing so and location was about three main things:lpocation,location, and LOCATION.. Mine just happened to be forced upon me early and often. Prostitution reigned supreme where johns looking for sex was the norm; women in the trade left nothing to the imagination — and I was there witnessing and recording much more in my memory bank. I’m aware that in any society there’s a need to have places of intimacy going beyond normal pomp and circumstance, especially when it comes to sex, but in my young mind I felt it odd that it was allowed to destroy my earlier pristine surroundings devoid of how love and marriage was supposed to be. A perfect world is one without vice, victims or vile intent. I suffered because of how family enrichment should have been what my dad envisioned. My sense of good family order crumbled and was never the same. As a united family, the death of my biological father and my mother’s subsequent need to realign herself in another matrimonial state, led us into the teeth of hard times and unfulfilled dreams with tjhe front door of tje house of ill-repute being wide open. You see, there are people who are opportunistic waiting on chances to pounce on those they feel that are ripe for manipulation. As a youngster subjected to a plight beyond my adolescent understanding, I individually, and the rest of my family collectively were victims thereof. John Stevenson was a despicable human being. This was the man and his family that deceived us. He was obsessed with greed and the pursuit of forbidden love. I was first introduced to him in a rude-awakening way.

    Describing the first vestiges of my learning the tools of the trade is necessary for you to understand the gist of this story, and how the house of ill-repute played a major part.. I’m not proud telling it, but it needed to be told as I continued being a sex toy in an  environment that wasn’t a good one for all of us. That was an open depiction of my angst in the early stages, but also a stepping stone for my subsequent success. The Stevens Comfort Inn, thereal name lf thje business registered locally was the catalyst driving my life and causing turmoil to my family…and in spite of it all, or because of this, the man who started it all had a habit of being conveniently present when everyone was away from the house, including showing up at inopportune times when I was in various stages of undress. To make matters worse, he became bold in his leering and lustful countenance which made me uneasy and apprehensive. In the back of my mind I hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t hurt me in ways I couldn’t recover. Too late for that though, the evil one baited the trap and knew how to prime the pump. It all boiled down to not allowing any change to put a dent into his enterprises. He couldn’t afford to lose not one dime on foolishness and idle time. He felt he made the right decision to marry my mother. From the minute he gained her confidence he’d hatched out a plan that would have him back in the driver’s seat from previous monumental losses from a recent bad economy, and having to pay under the table to have protection carrying on his trade. I knew he’d been watching me for a time. My mother, based on the hard times she endured being the sole breadwinner left her bereft of resources raising her family and vulnerable. He knew that she was a widow needing a man and felt that she would be a perfect tool to implement more business opportunities. 

     Besides, what better cover than to deter attention with a legitimate ‘marriage’ for surface value. It was much later that allowed me the inclination that I’d be a commodity as part of his operation that was in his mind. It didn’t take a master’s degree that the only employ he’d offer me for a return on his investment would be for me to be on my back. The key in his mind was to kill us with kindness, be the perfect husband, be at our beck and call, and surely bring me around slowly so that I would learn the trade. How old was I wised up? Fifteen, with a countenance and body way beyond my young age. After nights of discontent and shame, often I’d return to my room cold, discombobulated and violated after he spent himself. Numb and helpless were the signs of utter disgust with feelings of being used like a dishrag as I would cry myself to sleep. My body ached and my mind was constantly heavy. I searched for answers to questions that I knew wouldn’t be answered at that stage of my life. But in my young mind I HAD to find a recourse for what should not be happening to someone as young as I was. Was it my fault? I always second-guessed myself and felt that perhaps I shouldn’t have been so open, or that it was something that triggered a ‘go’ signal for him to come onto me. It’s a good thing that I had the temerity of mind to write things down. Yep! I kept somewhat of a diary and recalled what he told me about his family….And I always wondered why he married my Mom way back in the day. Mom would sit me down and talk to me about how great things would be with time. But that was in the early years when Mom had all of her senses, or did she?

    After dad died Mom lost it all and became a withdrawn caricature of the woman who seemed to have had it all back then. Maybe it was from the Lupus she suffered from…I couldn’t think of anything tangible enough to exact meaningful conclusions. John told me candidly why Janice was so appealing to him. He said that she was ‘ready’. I wrote it all down. To whom can I run? Mother had rejected my pleas, and she denied that her husband was doing the things he purported doing. It’s all lies she would retort. In my mind it was just another denial, and they just ,e;t multiplying. Once again the forces of unjust circumstances pitted me against all odds and certainly without justice prevailing. Of course all of them usually were done in the dark, just like many other nights like this one recently, and with the same results. A thousand midnights couldn’t be more blacker than my soul at the moment, and especially when violated. As I lay across my bed with the covers pulled closed to her my chin, tears welled and nothing could stop the overflow that became an avalanche of wetness. It didn’t stop, even as I would hear the creaking of the floorboards. I would hear him coming. He was coming to me stealthily, but ever so determined.

    This was an ongoing thing. I knew who it was and dreaded the expected conversation that always started and ended the same way. John Stevenson stepped into the room and without hesitation slowly recited his signature ritual after his forays with me, “Nicole, I’m so sorry, my love. You will one day be grateful to me preparing you for the essential role you will play in being the perfect wife and loving woman to your husband, and other men you would please. You will look at what I’m giving you and know that I truly cared about you.” I didn’t need to look at him and closed my eyes tighter to block the image of this vile and contemptuous man who happened to be the wrong man my mother married. Is this the reward for a second chance at having a loving father...the type of father I was used to having? Tiring of the lines I heard over and over for the last 5 years, I suddenly faced him with anger rising -- “How can you continue to do this to me...have you no conscious or sense of guilt to know that this is all wrong? You destroyed my family and subjected me to a life I regret. I didn''t mind telling him often how much I despise him. I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!” “Now, now, Sugar Plum, is that a way to treat your father who’s just trying to protect you from those that only want to get what they can get? I’ve seen the looks of those young boys and even the grown men how they lust after you,” he  whispered lustily. I knew this was a lie, just like everything else that left his mouth. I saw him smiling many times as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune. But the rest of the story, I will tell you, was like no other that saved my life. It’s the individual stories that add fuel to the fire told from their own experience. He slapped me, and I truly felt the pain, but it only aroused him more. After that confrontation, my senses numbed out of frustration. In order to understand who John Stevenson really was, you would have to let him tell you who he is...and that will come later.

     Okay, here I am. Reality has already started to give me courage to change the dynamics. Maturity has overtaken  puberty, and I’m ready to take the next step. I’m full of mixed emotions—exuberance, apprehension, even a sense of foreboding failure; my heart is ticking like a time bomb waiting to explode, but I must prevail. Time is NOW and transparency will be so clear to authorities that will bring much more than light to my plight. The state of Texas will definitely have a case. Before I go any further, let me bring you up to date at the point I decided to get out of Dodge and run like the wind.

NOTE: Nicole is preparing to fly the coop! I''ve given you five preliminary chapters, but the next speries of chapters finmishing the story are rendered in the upcoming book, ''The Magificent Obsession: A Forbidden Love Affair'' coming your way summer of 2021. Stay tuned, and make sure you endeavor to secure your copy!