It's called Karma- the spiritual idea that how you live your life and the manner in which you interact with others, will eventually define your existence. Or simply put, "What goes around comes around." Some people just believe in fate. That no matter what you do, your life is pre-determined. My theory was always, "What the fuck!?! Only the good die young." I've always felt that if you've got it, flaunt it, and let the chips fall where they may. The fallacy of youth!
I wanted to have fun. And when puberty had molded my body, I took a long appraisal in the mirror and decided that the easiest way for me to get what I want, and what I wanted to achieve, would be best accomplished if I just took advantage of the assets that I was given.
My name is Julie, folks call me Jewel. At nineteen I had a body that could turn the head of any man that I passed, (and made that other head take notice too.) I had golden hair that I wore long and wavy. And my lithe fingers ran through it whenever I needed to catch the eye of a stranger. My own eyes were a shade of hazel that my father once remarked, could steal a man's heart.
My lips were plump and full and when necessary, I would delicately suck the bottom one into my mouth like a little girl, but I was way past little girl ideas. I would accentuate them with shimmering gloss so that when I feigned a pout, most people felt sorry for me. And my softly rounded cheeks beamed when I smiled, though it was said later that they were perfectly made for giving blowjobs.
But my greatest attribute was a set of firm full 34Ds that looked demurely enticing in tight sweaters and positively sinful when enhanced with push-up bras or tightly laced corsets. From that time on, whenever I chose to play it up, I never had to pay for drinks or stand in any lines. When I began to buckle on leather gear and sport calf-length boots on my long, toned legs, men just fell all over themselves to do me favors. On the whole, I was one hot sexy bitch. And I knew it!
Though I was a fairly bright student who enjoyed reading and politics, I quit school as soon as I could and seemed forever to make some highly questionable decisions. I was drinking with older men at a young age and spending evenings with shady characters. Amazingly, I never fell into drug-use or was physically harmed in any way. Though I was initiated into the seamy side of life at an early age. Both of my parents tried to keep me on the straight path with references to religion, health and morality, but I enjoyed a much louder, lively existence than they could be expected to tolerate. The common refrain around our house was, "Julie, be a good girl and settle down, please. You don't want to get a reputation, do you?"
When I gave birth to a son out of wedlock at the age of twenty, they became unintended grand parents and guardians while I was just short of an unfit mother. I continued to run around and was rarely home at night. Eventually they wanted nothing more to do with me and we agreed that my son might be better-off if I weren't around. About two years later, I married "Butch," a biker whom I met while dancing at a local dive bar. There were fast times and we had fun. And while I did really like him, there were so many others that passed through at that time.
Butch died in a confrontation with police, leaving me the unlikeliest of widows. A lawyer that I was sleeping with at the time convinced me that I should file "A Wrongful Death Suit." Eventually the case went to trial and some of Butch's riding buddies who were also arrested in the incident, were compelled to testify that I was an "Unsavory Companion," and not entitled to any payment.
It took a few years for the verdict to play out in court, and by then I was defended by a court-appointed lawyer who I was not fucking and couldn't care less about my case. I was sitting at the defense table with my parents and my estranged ten-year old son in attendance when the "friends" of my late husband took the stand. This was the moment that a litany of my past history was dredged-up and my lawyer either didn't know that he could object or didn't care.
One of the guys, "Shake" was granted leniency in his own sentence if he spilled the beans against me. He started fast and it went nitro from there. "Oh yeah, I remember when Butch first brought Jewels into the Club," his story began. "She didn't need no pushing, Butch just told her who to begin with and when to start." There were guffaws all around and the judge banged his gavel like he was Willie Mays. Then, as my folks squirmed in their seats, not believing that these disgusting details could be aired in open court, Shake continued with the tale of how I pulled my first train.
When their attorney asked if I was on drugs or being blackmailed in some way, Shake simply replied "No." He went on, "When we used to go to that strip club where she danced, she would meet us out back between sets, and maybe hit a joint with us. But mostly she would just suck our dicks and tell us we could have whatever we wanted from her, as long as we tipped her well when she danced. She was nothing but a cock-whore!"
The judge pounded his gavel and the jury laughed. There were murmurs and gasps from the crowd. And I saw my mother cover my son's ears with her hands, as she trotted him up the aisle and out of the courtroom. That was the last time that I saw either one of them. My father sat through the rest of the day, his face burning red with embarrassment and rage. He tried to sink down in his seat to deflect the critical stares he was receiving. He could by now, probably have imagined the life that I was leading but he didn't need it amplified and repeated in a way that was certain to create headlines.
