Again my standard disclaimer. This story features the potential dangers of a very submissive white girl getting in with the wrong Black man. Most Black men and women in my stories are generally positive characters, if to varying degrees. Just as is the case with most people of whatever skin colour. Levy and the Playa are the other side of the coin. This instalment includes drug references so if that is a problem for you then please take note.
Actions and Consequences
What could I do? As I stood there watching Hazel, my wife and the woman I believed was the love of my life, press the keys of her phone. Watched her make contact with the man who I least wanted her to talk to. The brutal thug who I had been an unwitting accomplice in using to destroy her previous marriage.
What goes around comes around? Was it a certain fatalism on my part? A recognition that I had failed. Failed to make her happy, failed to satisfy her. Failed to keep her mind from the dangerous attraction of a man like him. Wasn't I getting what I deserved?
Looking back I can see that there had been enough hints that we were headed this way. Now I wonder if those hints had been planted deliberately by Hazel. An attempt to rouse me to defend myself, to fight for 'us'. To provide a realistic alternative. If that was the idea then it was truly a forlorn hope. I had already tried and I had obviously failed.
Should I have stormed across to her and smashed the phone against the wall? Should I have destroyed anything that linked her to him? Should I have just turned around and walked back out of the house? Or perhaps should I have kicked HER out? I suppose that would have been the natural reaction for most men.
Instead I just felt a great dark pit emerge in my stomach. Every fear and dread of more than two years suddenly crystallised into one moment. The memory of Levy's mocking face as I'd told him that she'd never be contacting him again.
He'd been right and I'd been wrong. If I was wrong about that then what could I be sure that I WAS right about?
Did she hope that I would stop her? Sometimes I think so. However, when I am more rational I realise that it almost certainly wasn't so. She could, of course, have contacted Levy in secret. Doing it so openly might have been a cry for help but, on the other hand, Hazel had always been clear that she would do nothing in secret. I wasn't her first husband, who she had been delighted to fool and deceive. She would make sure that I would know what she was doing and she would understand and take the consequences.
I remembered the comment of our friend the taxi driver. He'd known a lot of couples living our lifestyle and generally it didn't end well. I'd have laughed at him if I hadn't liked him so much. I wasn't laughing now.
There was one great defining fact that dominated everything for me. I loved Hazel and I knew Hazel. I knew the strong determination in that small frame. I knew that she had never been able to shake herself free of Levy - that she never would unless...
Levy was a bastard, a cunt of the highest and worst order. A brutal vicious man. Hazel thought that he could give her what she needed but I was sure that he would give her much more than she needed or wanted. Until she realised that fact she could never be content, never be happy. But if she did reach that point and I wasn't there to help then Levy would destroy her, maybe for profit or his amusement or without even noticing what he was doing. That seemed certain and I couldn't stand the thought of it.
So what did I do? I did nothing and just stood there like a fucking fool.
Second Contact
"Levy wants to know who the fuck it is," crackled the voice through the speaker-phone, a voice almost submerged by the background noise of a busy club.
"Tell him it's Hazel - we met a couple of years ago."
More shouting and then, "Levy sez he fucks a lot of you hos and he ain't paying no child support."
"No, NO," she rushed to explain, "tell him he helped me get a divorce."
More shouting and a longer pause - then a half-forgotten rumbling voice cuts through the ambient din, "Little Bitch...been a while. You certain you know what you want this time?"
"Yes."
"Gimme your address."
She looked at me, just for a half-second, then reeled off our address.
"Little bitch - you hesitated. I should disconnect right now. We not going to be playing like last time, it's gonna be for real and for keeps. Now, are you sure you know what you want?"
"YES", she asserted loudly.
A low chuckle. "Be at home tomorrow, 2 PM." The signal disconnected.
Hazel just looked across to me with a look of ... what was that look? Was it fear, anticipation or just maybe triumph. She rang the school and left a message there to say she'd need to leave early tomorrow - vital family business.
I'd always dreaded that this might happen. Through the last six months, maybe longer than that, she'd been like a junkie desperately seeking a fix and always coming up empty. Except her addiction was her sexuality, between her legs and in her brain. She'd decided that Levy was the answer and I think that in the back of my mind I dreaded that she might well be right. Except that if she was then what place was there in her life for me?
Maybe that's why I agreed when she asked me to be there with her when he arrived the next day. Was that her setting a test for me? I don't think so, I think she was just nervous. She certainly had every reason to be.
* * * * *
I decided to meet him on the nearest thing to neutral ground so at a few minutes to two the following afternoon I took up position outside of the house.
I wondered if he'd be late - maybe give me time to get Hazel out of there. Even as I had the fleeting thought I heard him coming. Had he selected 'Gangsta Ride' for our benefit? I suspect so. His DBX was a dark red - its windows heavily tinted. That ride would draw attention. It certainly drew mine. 'Business' for Levy was clearly very good. If I could see it so easily why hadn't the Police taken him off the streets? It was clear that he knew how to play the game, maybe he had an 'arrangement' with the authorities. Who could tell? Probably only Levy and I wasn't about to ask him.
He got out of his DBX and I noticed the slight differences. The street gear had gone - replaced by a suit. I noticed enough to realise that it was expensive but if it was meant to make him look like an every-day businessman then it was onto a loser. I had an Uncle once who worked on the rigs. I mainly saw him at weddings in his suit but it never quite looked right. He always looked like an extra from the Godfather. Levy was the same. It was like putting a bow-tie on a tiger.
He'd changed a little in other ways too. His face might have been a little more fleshy but that long knife scar on the left side of his face was still clear and obvious. Why hadn't they cut the fucker's throat when they'd had the chance? Well, whoever it was, I doubted they were still around to regret the missed opportunity. Levy was perhaps forty or a few years older. It was hard to tell. What was undeniable was the fact that one thing hadn't changed. The man radiated authority and power, both of which I knew could turn to menace or actual violence really quickly.
He saw me looking at his wheels and gave me a knowing look. At that instant I knew that he had reasoned exactly what I had been thinking. It would have been easy to discount Levy as a thug but he knew people and he was smart.
"Still around," was all he said, his eyes scanning the front of the house. I had a feeling every glance was calculating the worth of the house, its means of access and later its contents. All filed away in that sharp mind of his. Stored for future need or opportunity. Everything he saw as I took him through my house was instantly appraised and gauged as a potential means of profit. Everything. Including myself and my most precious 'possession', Hazel.
We had a big table in our kitchen and we'd agree to meet him there. As we reached it I noticed that she had stood up. Nerves? Did she want to run away at the last moment too? Or was it something else.
From the moment he saw her she had all of Levy's focus. I might as well have not been there. He stopped and very carefully looked her up and down. From her head to her toes. He moved around her to examine her from every angle. I'd seen something similar before. I once had a friend who'd dealt in racehorses. I'd seen him look at a potential purchase that way. Checking out the form and the confirmation.
Hazel's tongue ran across her lip as she tried to moisten it. I knew how nervous she was. She was almost trembling. I cursed the fact. I had a feeling Levy would love it.
I suddenly had a desperate need to get out of there. Levy looked to have forgotten that I existed anyway. I cleared my throat, found mine was dry too. "If you don't need me..."
"Sit down." Levy cut me off with a growl. You didn't argue with Levy. I sat down.
He reached into his pocket and produced a small camera. He placed it on the table in front of me. "Point and shoot - even a dumb cunt like you can't fuck that up."
What the fuck! I felt my cheeks burning and my jaw set. People didn't talk to me like that. I saw the corner of Levy's mouth twitch up. He was enjoying my reaction. After all, what was I going to do about it? If I took it I was established as his inferior. If I objected then he'd just beat the crap out of me. It didn't matter to him. Either way the message would have been sent and understood by everyone there. Levy was in charge and Levy did what he liked. In fact EVERYONE did what Levy liked.
I almost slumped back into my chair and Levy gave me a little nod. "You'll need to hear all this and then film for me. Be aware that a lot of my girls used to have white husbands - they nearly all gone. Couldn't face what their girls became once I turned them out. But you love this Little Bitch, am I right?" The question had a subtle mocking inflection.
I nodded.
