I was a sweet 18 year old girl, from a small town in Alabama madly in love with the man who took my virginity. He was handsome, older, educated, and traveled frequently to my town. He showered me with presents and praise and told me that he loved me. If only you lived closer, he often said, we could have it all, a beautiful life with a house and children. Finally I had enough of the longing, got myself together and took a bus to Miami to be closer to him. I wanted to surprise him and not ask him for help, as I had been saving my money from working at the dairy queen for three summers. I had enough to get a small furnished room, though not exactly nice, and make it for a couple of weeks while I found a job.
Once I got to Miami, life was great. I quickly got a job as a waitress at a diner just a few bus stops from my room. It was time I decided, so I called my lover to share the good news. I should have known the second he answered it that this was all a mistake. He seemed cold to me and frustrated that I called him during the evening hours. He reminded me that he always called me. I knew he liked to be the man in the relationship and I felt awful for making this mistake. He said he would meet me at the diner the following day for lunch.
I spent a ton of time that morning getting ready, putting a tight halter top over my 34B chest with a short skirt and pumps. The pumps made my 5'4" , 140lbs frame look taller and leaner. I brushed my shoulder length brown hair into a ponytail, like he liked, and put light makeup to accent my green eyes. When I got to the diner, he was already there, in a booth towards the back. He told me to sit, he didn't have long, and then proceeded to tell me that I had no right moving without asking him. Tears welled up in my eyes as he told me that I was very special to him in Alabama, but there is no room for me in his life in Miami. I found out later through a friend back home searching online, he actually has a beautiful home, children, and a wife. I felt like such a fool. Standing up and walking out of that diner was the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to me. My friend begged me to come home, but I was determined not to let my family think I failed. They hadn't wanted me to move, and I needed to prove myself. I cried all night, then decided I would make this work.
A couple of months passed. I worked long shifts serving breakfast to drunks at night, taking home random tips, never knowing if I would make the rent or not. I had a few tables split without paying their tabs and my manager made me pay him! It was rough, and I was lonely, with no friends in town and no way to make friends. One night, as I was leaving the diner, I heard live music coming from the bar across the street, with a sign outside saying All Ages Show. I had often thought about going in, but changed my mind due to the dark, run down look of the building. But I figured, what did I have to lose?
I spent that night watching the music. I hadn't noticed if anyone was watching me. I ordered a diet soda and the bartender asked if I wanted rum in it, so I said sure. I figured the long work hours had aged me and I must pass for old enough. Two nights later I went back, this time there was no music. But no one checked ID's. I sat at the bar and ordered a diet soda with rum. The bartender winked at me and said coming right up. A couple of guys filled the seats next to me, talking about sports and stuff. Eventually one started talking to me. He asked where I got my accent and I explained I was a southern belle. That started my nickname.
Eventually I started going to have a drink every night after I got off, which was nearly 6 nights a week. I felt I had friends there, Frank and Aaron, the boilermakers, Bruce the bartender, Sam the quiet, chubby guy across the bar that says funny stuff every now and again. I started staying later. I started drinking more. I was drinking more because I liked being around people, and also because my pitiful life seemed so much more pleasant when I had a buzz.
One Tuesday night it caught up to me. I was sitting at the bar, having had two strong drinks, counting my tips. It had been extremely slow and I had barely made $12.00 in 14 hours. Sam offered to buy me a drink. I smiled and genuinely thanked him. He came around the bar and sat next to me. He was asking me lots of questions about my life. The next thing I know, we did a shot together. Sam seemed very worried about me so I opened up, telling him how I was $40 short on the rent, which was due tomorrow, and I had only made $12 that day, and how I feel like a failure who won't make it in Miami.
Then Sam had a proposition for me. I asked him what, still such a naive little girl.
"Do you know how to suck cock, Southern Belle?" he asked with a charming smile.
