Throughout my blog you find little glimpses into my past. That’s all about to change. With the encouragement of a dear friend, it seems the time has come to open up and share about my past and the journey to becoming a sex blogger.

Many of you know that years ago I was stripper, but I haven’t really shared much about that time of my life. I think my years in New Orleans have had a profound influence on my life now, so it seems like a good place to start.

I must have been around 14 or 15 when I packed my bags and headed out. Not knowing where I was going, I found myself at a truck stop. Sitting there on the curb, it was only a short time before someone offered me a ride.

After a hitch hiking across the country for a while, one day I was at a truck stop near New Orleans. Unable to resist visiting the party in the French Quarter that I’d heard so much about, I hitched a ride down into the cite.

Walking down Bourbon Street for the first time, I was captivated by the sights and sounds of the Quarter. It wasn’t long before a sign in one window caught my attention; “Dancers Wanted”. With confidence in my classical dance training, I was sure I could get a job. 

The doorman sat me down at the bar and I waited for the owner. I’m not sure if I was nieve or just didn’t notice that all the girls on stage were half naked, but by the end of the night I had my first job. I was a stripper. Of course, as a runaway I had very little clothes . More than happy to help me out, my new boss bought me an outfit at a shop down the street. I had no idea the price I was going to pay for a skirt and top.

After the bar closed, I had nowhere to go, so the owner took me home to his house. I can remember sitting in his car thinking about how nice he was; boy was I wrong. Who knows how long I was really there, I only remember bits and pieces of those early days. But by the time I left, his cocaine had full control of me. One day, he drove me to a house and left there with a man. Little did I know, he was my now my pimp.

I don’t think I realized it for a while. I was getting high and being taken care of. At least that’s what I thought, until the first beating came. One night, after not making five-hundred dollars I was beat and sent back out to find a way to make up the difference. With the clubs now closed I had only one choice, sell myself.

I stayed for years in the French Quarter. I learned quickly how to hustle men and do anything that I had to in the club to keep me from having to walk the streets latter. The beatings became constant, if it wasn’t because of the money; it was because I did something else that he deemed wrong.  Why I would want to stay with this man I don’t have a clue. However, we ended up married. I was now his wifey but I was never treated like his top girl and being married didn’t come with any of the typical pimp’s wifey privileges.

It wasn’t long before I was pregnant. Thankfully, I wasn’t forced to have an abortion this time and I got to keep my baby. After she was born, I began to find my own two feet. It still took a while, but I was on my way out of New Orleans.

It was another year before I left. But when the time came, boy did I stick it to him. With the help of a friend, the day I got away we took every single thing that I couldn’t ship out on Amtrak to a GoodWill donation center. Not just a few things, I literately took everything from the house, two cars and a small shrimp boat. When he came home there wasn’t going to be a single thing left for him. Needless to say, I was very proud of myself.

Knowing that my flight out of the city was due to leave soon, we headed out for the air port. Unfortunately, we didn’t get far; I was caught. With our daughter in the car and me pregnant again, I was pulled out of the car and beat again. Fighting back with all that I could, I managed to get a few good hits in. Once he was convinced that I would now lose the baby and that I’d be unable to travel, he left to find his stuff.

Despite it all, I made it to the air port. I was bloody and bruised, but I was leaving. Freedom had come at last. I was off to make a new life for my family

Determined to leave behind all that I had become over the past eight years, I became a whole new person. The journey to becoming the Lori that everyone now knows was rocky, to say the least. But, it was mine to live. I never again let anyone control me or hurt me for their pleasure. I was free and my family was safe.