Chapter 1: Soft Lips
My name is Brooke, and I'm a 22 year old black woman with a fantastic body who has asked George to tell you about my adventures over the last year.
First, some background about me. My mom and I lost my dad when I was eight, and we lived comfortably on the insurance and savings we had in my old neighborhood in the city. I had lots of friends whom I had grown up with and went to school with.
One day when I was eleven, my mom came home after a party she had attended, and was head over heels over this guy she had met there. They started dating, but I was young and paid little attention to her activities. The guy arrived one evening to pick her up, and I answered the door, and was surprised to see a rather striking middle aged white man. Long story short, after courting my mom for more than a year, they got married and we moved to his large mansion in the rich section of the city.
Unfortunately, the marriage and move meant I ould no longer go to my old school. My mom took me to the public school near our new home, but she and I both saw it was mostly snobby and spoiled white kids, and with my step-father's advice, I was enrolled mid-year in a private middle school.
I went from having lots of friends to knowing nobody. The first year was rough, being the new kid on the block. Also, there were only a few blacks in my school, mostly recruited male jocks, and I was the only black girl in most of my classes. So my first year was really depressing.
I fell into the wrong crowd in order to get popular – doing drugs several times a week. My mom and step-father were constantly entertaining or going to parties with his commercial real estate clients, and had very little time for me. They even forgot my 14th birthday.
One day, I was caught using drugs in the school's bathroom by the janitor. My parents were called in and informed about what I had been doing. I got expelled.
At age 14, I was enrolled in a girls' private school in Switzerland that specialized in troubled youth. It might as well have been at a military academy, as they did not allow cell phones, music players, watching television, going on the internet, etc. It was like we were back in 1920.
The school did have very supervised trips to several European cities, so I did get to see the sights in Rome, London, Vienna and Paris.
The first six weeks are called beast, where you live with another new girl and they watch you like a hawk every minute. I went into withdrawals during that time, and that sucked. They taught us the rules, we were there to study and learn, and there was no place for parties, dancing, music, or any other entertainment. I actually failed a few of the initial tests, plus throwing up the first several weeks, so I ended up repeating parts of beast and staying there for nine weeks.
Finally, I passed, and was released to the rest of the school, about 120 girls who lived eight to a room, went to classes nine hours a day, studied another four, and were in bed by 10 pm each night. We even had classes on Saturday.
Besides the trips to other countries once every other month, about three times a year we were allowed to go home for a ten day period. I would fly to the states, and my parents would meet me at the airport. They would plan a few activities for me, but I could not go out to movies or parties or really leave the mansion at all. My parents were afraid that I would do drugs again, so my visits home were highly supervised just like the school.
On the first trip home, my parents held a party on Friday night for my step-father's clients, mostly all black middle-aged men who were involved in lots of commercial real estate businesses.
Thinking back, I think my step-father was the only white person at the party. I was confined to my room, and spent my time watching television and playing music, which my parents allowed. It seemed the party was going strong when I fell asleep after midnight.
The next morning when I came down for breakfast, I noticed my mother escorting three of the clients out the door. I did not think anything of that, figuring that they probably had gotten drunk and slept overnight in one of the five guest bedrooms we had.
During my senior year, when I came home, I noticed that my mom seemed different. She would go out at night and come home late. She did entertain clients on Friday night with my step-father, but the other nights she went out. I guess I was not surprised when I got the call from my step-father. Apparently, my mother was having an affair with this black guy, and decided to run away with him. And she had cleared out all the bank accounts, maxed out credit cards, cashed in the securities, etc, leaving very little money.
He still had the mansion, and his commercial real estate business, but had very little immediate income to pay for my private school's next semester. He was not sure where my mother had gone, though he did plan to hire a private detective try to find her.
Over the next few months, my step-father was unsuccessful in finding my mother, and with the end of term with no hope of paying tuition, we both decided that I should come home, live at the mansion, and start college at the local community college.
I came home and moved what little stuff I had into my room. Being at the private school for six years, without access to the all the electronic stuff that keeps coming out, I quickly noticed that I was probably the only college student in the city walking around not listening to music or chatting on a cell phone. To be honest, I did not miss it as I never had it, and really was not interested in having it either.
I spent early August getting some clothes, as my private school required uniforms and the community college did not. I was a little tense going to school that first day, knowing not a soul.
As luck would have it, there was another girl who lived four houses down the street from my step-father's mansion. Carlee is a white girl, a few inches shorter than I with cute 34C tits, brown hair and blue eyes. We met in my first class, and had four of the six classes together. She also had a car, and I did not have to ride the bus home.