I start writing NeKole a check for ten thousand dollars. “What are you doing? You don't have to give me anything. I don't want you to feel like you... are obligated to help me. I just wanted you to listen.” said NeKole. I handed her the check and she gazed over it for about 30 seconds. “Is this a sick joke? Really? Your writing me a check for ten grand?” asked NeKole. “Yes I am. This is no joke. It's yours.” I responded. NeKole eyes began to fill with tears. “But why? There is no way I can pay. "I'm not giving you money so you can kill yourself, I'm just not." It's only a little fix baby," she pleaded. "Please Johnny, I need it."I was almost in tears myself at her plight, I was seventeen, a week from my eighteenth birthday and I was watching my mother kill herself right in front of my eyes.She wore a filthy tee shirt and even dirtier shorts, her whole body was skin and bone, in the two short years since dad had died of a drugs overdose, she'd gone from a beautiful, fun loving mum to. The acoustic sound of her first album, Triad, was a much better fit with the singer-songwriters Madeleine managed—such as Mary Jane Clover, Lenny Shroud and Joanna—than it was with the direction the music took after she teamed up with me, my sister, Jane and Jacquie. And it was through Madeleine that Crystal Passion got signed to Gospel Records. All the same, she still doesn’t get much of a mention in Polly Tarantella’s biography. ‘So what’s Madeleine got to say?’ asked Olivia. ‘We’ve had. She left her sheer black thong on. It was probably far more sexy than if she had removed it altogether. Looking at her, my cock started to gain a little more life, with hopes and thoughts of what might come.We walked on a little further until we were in the main part of the naturist area. A few couples and half a dozen single males still remained enjoying the peace and late afternoon sun. We sat down to relax, unwind and enjoy the beach and the feelings that come from hot sun on our naked.