With the holiday weekend finally over, the white husbands all returned to our regular work schedules.
Our wives returned to their daily routines, which included mostly things like aerobics classes, swimming, shopping and various social events. Only 2 of the 13 white wives at the condo had so-called "careers" around this time. None of them had been living here more than 2 years.
Karen was presently managing a small clinic nearby, which was a far cry from her nursing administrator position a few years back. Tammy was a 2nd grade teacher who was out of work for the summer, a former English Professor who had left a large university on the east coast.
Both of these women accepted these lower level positions just to "keep themselves busy" when they moved to Arizona. Both seemed to be contemplating other career and life opportunities as well.
The remaining 11 wives, including my own, were unemployed by choice. Basically, they were here being supportive of their husband's more successful and lucrative careers. They were trying to live "the good life" we had coaxed them into.
Still, all 13 of the white wives in this private condo community were exceptionally educated. They were all very beautiful younger white women in their early 30's to early 40's.
For the husbands, we knew that it was our own doing.
We had convinced our pretty young wives to come to Arizona and live more of this "good life." We filled our younger wives' heads with promise after promise, and lie after lie about our masculinity. We lavished them with the best of the best of everything, and we worshipped the ground they walked upon. We treated them like queens.
Yes, they were "trophy wives" at this particular time in their lives. But, they had so much more going for them before they met their successful husbands.
My wife, Julie, was perhaps the least "formally-educated" woman of the bunch. But, she was just as smart and socially-gifted. She was also the most beautiful woman in the condo building.
I had learned most of this information in the first 2 months of our relocation, and even more over the holiday weekend.
Only two of the oldest couples had one child each, but they were teenagers off in college when they made the decision to move here. Coincidentally, the other couples were like Julie and I, and had no children.
Nevertheless, the weekend was over and going back to work caused a huge amount of insecurity in me. I wondered if that black man would be around during the day while I was off promoting my own career at the office. Frequently, I would call Julie to ask her how her day was going, and what she had done. I continued asking her these questions with greater interest, all in the hopes that her responses would make me feel less insecure.
My calls to her went from twice a day to six calls a day the first week back, and even more so after that.
The mere presence of this black stud being in our little community sent an uneasy feeling running through my entire body. As far as I knew, Julie didn't suspect how insecure I had become at this time. But, I was.
By the end of the shortened, post-holiday work week I was on edge. By the second week, my concerns grew as I began to see the young, black man and his white female companions even more.
My eyes "shyed" away from his when I saw him walking out to his Bentley, or when I noticed him out by the pool casually wearing the hideous little bikini suits he seemed so fond of.
Tra'mon seemed to "cycle" through 4 of the 7 white women I had actually seen him with during that first July 4th weekend.
These 4 women were the three blonde women and one of the red-haired woman that appeared to be the most financially well off.
I had not seen any of the other 3 women for those first two weeks. Not yet. But, I would see the aforementioned four white women all the time.
Like clockwork, it seemed that every morning when I walked out into the parking lot to begin my commute, one of them was there. Or, they would appear suddenly. Astonishingly, every single time one of these 4 white women was walking out to their own car looking absolutely "devastated" and "used."
Their appearance in the parking lot at exactly 6:10 a.m. every morning surprised me. It was curious how they all seemed to be leaving at precisely the same time that I needed to start my drive. Even more curious was the fact that they were usually half dressed or sloppily dressed, almost as if they had been "rushed" out of condo unit number one.
Seeing one of them at 6:10 a.m. every morning went on for a full two weeks before. Then, I began to "also" see one of them when I returned home from work, which was at 4:45 p.m.
"Geezuz. What the hell? My timing is terrible. I don't want to see this." I thought.
For some unknown reason, I would see one of these 4 beautiful white women getting out of their cars and walking to our building the moment I returned home. At 4:45 in the afternoon these white women would be dressed pristinely, in dresses or skirts and high heels. Their hair was well done and they always looked so quiet as they carried bags or boxes, or both, from what seemed like a day of shopping.
Despite their somber moods and their eyes often looking down to the pavement as they approached the building, these women looked so classy, polished and angelic.
But, early the next morning they looked completely the opposite.
Every time, and without fail, they all would appear looking ridiculously run down and used. Their hair was a total mess, their faces noticeably red and flushed as they tried to hide their eyes. Their overall appearance was absolutely humilating to see. It couldn't have been more obvious that they had been fucked and used roughly by the young, black stud the night before.
These afternoon and early morning observations of Tra'mon's white women continued for the next few weeks, even when I tried leaving for work a little earlier or later to avoid it. There wasn't a day that went by that these sightings didn't occur. Not even one.
It began to cross my mind that this young stud was actually "rubbing my nose in it," so to speak, and intentionally showing off what what bothering me the most. It was possible he was pruposely showing me what he was doing with his white female companions.
By mid August, I was beginning to feel even more intimidated by him. I avoided him at all costs and spent more time inside. It had been more than 6 weeks since his arrival, and he never engaged the group when we were out by the pool. In turn, no one in our group had approached him either.
At least, I didn't think so.
Even our white wives stopped suggesting that we invite him over, or to go over and talk to him when he was by the pool with one of his white female "friends."
Our white wives seemed to be much more understanding of the husbands' choice to leave the new black resident alone, and not to interfere in his privacy. They all seemed to suddenly agree with us about all the things we had said to avoid the intimidating black man.
That was especially curious to me.
"Why are they agreeing with us now?" I wondered.
"Maybe, they realize how rude he really is, and how terrible of a man he is for seeing all those different women?" I tried convincing myself.
"Maybe they can see how poorly he treats them now, too?" I hoped.
Finally, it was a Saturday morning in August when Julie suggested we have breakfast out by the pool. It was early enough to know that everyone would be sleeping in, and we would have the pool area to ourselves.
I agreed for this reason only.
"O-okay, Julie. We can." I agreed.
We dressed in our swimwear and brushed our teeth quickly. It was 8 o'clock in the morning and Julie wanted to go down to the pool. As we headed downstairs to the workout center that would lead us to pool area, we ran right into him!
The young black stud was right there in the smal condo gym working out!
My eyes lit up in fear and my shoulders fell as I noticed the black stud through the glass doors of the workout center.
"Oh Geez!" I screamed inside.
He was shirtless and wearing a simple pair of black spandex boy shorts as he pounded his fists into what the sport of boxing refers to as a "heavy bag."
His fists were covered in fingerless speed bag gloves as he drove them furiously into the large, body-sized heavy bag that hung from thick chains on the ceiling. The young, black stud had worked up a tremendous sweat by the time we got there.
I didn't even know the gym had such a bag.
Even more humbling was the fact that there was one of the most beautiful blonde women he was seeing there too. She was the 5'9" tall blonde with long, golden hair and a pretty face who looked younger than her age of 34-years old.
She was sitting on the backs of her legs on the padded floor behind him, and slightly to his right. Her eyes were down half way to the floor. In her hands there was a small sweat towel and a bottle of water. Over the front of her thighs was a larger white towel. She sat there quietly as the stud worked out.
Julie just walked in as if it were nothing. I slowly and pathetically stepped my way into the room like I was a deer entering the cage of a panther.
