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Jazz
Date: 12/9/2015, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: Sisyphus, Rating: 5, Source: LushStories
Blame it on mom. She was a jazz freak and I grew up hearing Billy Holiday, Anita O’ Day, June Christie, Ella and Louis, you name it. “ The cats,” she called them. She knew all the words and she’d sing to the records, snapping her fingers, looking at herself in the mirror, moving her hips. I remember sitting on the floor, holding the record jackets, looking at the pictures on the front then up at mom singing to herself. She sang when she did dishes or was dusting around the house. I can still see her holding a dish and washing it over and over while she sang, “ When you wish Upon a Star ” or “ Stormy Weather .” I can still hear her sing, “ it’s raining all the time, ” moving her head from side to side while I sat on the floor, playing with my Raggedy Ann doll. I remember how she’d laugh at me when I came to her holding one of her Billy Holiday albums and I’d say, “Billy on, Billy on.” She’d say, “Ginger, baby, you’re going to be a jazz singer when you grow up.” She’d put the record on and I’d sit on her lap and listen to Billy singing, " Blue Skies ” and “ All of Me, why not take all of me. ” The record was scratchy and worn out. I could tell how much Mom loved those records. So did I. Mom wanted to be a singer but got knocked up by some guy I never knew and had me. She worked at different jobs, dropping me off at Charlene’s Day Care then picking me up on the way home. I remember Charlene, a big fat black woman. She laughed a lot, especially when she’d hear me sing jazz ...