Charmed By A Steel City Hustler

Lola:

Two Hours Earlier.

This day had been one of the better since Bash made his announcement about divorce. The trip was lovely, and I rediscovered myself. Bash was right about our marriage on somethings and even my behavior. Though that did not excuse his infidelities, we could have sought out counseling. None of that mattered anymore because I was alone and sort of fine with it.

I admit to sending him some foul-mouthed messages. Hey, he was going to hear it until I got dry mouth. I am still angry at him and Lois for their betrayal. Bash could have left me long before he started fucking my little sister, that much is for certain. He was selfish like all men and only let go when it suited him.

I met a nice guy by the name of Roberto while on the island. He had recently lost his wife to breast cancer. I wanted to cry my eyes out at his story. He also shared with me his infidelities behind her back near the end. He was filled with shame and self-loathing for his betrayal.

Watching his face as he spoke of this woman showed that he loved her unconditionally. She never knew of his affair, but it was tearing him up. Roberto had that fairytale love that you read about as a little girl and see in Disney movies. The more he spoke the more I realized Bash was not my Prince Charming.

I did love Bash, but what we had was temporary. Bash never got that goofy grin on his face when I entered a room. He never went above and beyond to do meaningless things for me like write a love letter or embarrassed himself in public. I pursued him, and he just fell into the trap. He provided me with materialistic possessions because that is how I presented myself to him.

That was my mistake in not letting him win me over the hard way. Make him work for my love and devotion. Here I am in my thirties getting divorced and trying to get my career started. It is never too late to start over or get a fresh perspective on your life.

I'm upset that it took such a scandalous and life altering experience to get here. My momma always said sometimes you have to fall into the depths of hell to see your own misery.

I reached in my purse for my keys to open the front door. I had about six shopping bags in my hand and the small task seemed impossible. I shopped for a few items to decorate the house with. I had spent maybe three nights in this second home since Bash purchased it. His bum ass crew members had brought over most of my stuff from the original house.

He had sent most of the decorative shit that I myself picked out. Looking at it now, this shit wasn't really my style at all. The artwork and vases were all for his benefit. I was in the mindset of a trophy wife when I picked all of this out.

I got into the house, placed the bags on the couch and a funky smell hit my nose. I reached into my purse for the small handgun. I had begun carrying daily since Bash had rescued me. That smell was pungent like natural oil soap. The last time I smelled it was in that rancid basement.

The living room was intact. I decided to walk toward the kitchen, and it was clear of anyone. Both downstairs closets were empty as well. Where the fuck was that smell coming from? Fear started to creep up my spine.

I'll be damned if I panicked and made a mistake. I wanted to call Bash immediately. Putting my weapon down left me vulnerable for a sneak attack. Fuck it, he wasn't here, and any intruders were dying today. He was not replying to me anyway. Why should today be any different?

I made my way up the steps, and it was quiet as a hooker in the Sunday confessional. I rounded the banister and heard something behind me. I turned around and a fist landed on my right cheek. The gun went off firing into the floorboards. I stepped back away from the crazy dread headed man than haunted my dreams of late.

He reached for the gun, I kicked at him, and he stumbled backwards. I seized the opportunity to back peddled and fire two shots at him. The first one whipped past his head and the second one caught him in the arm. Usually in movies a bullet will slow an assailant down.

This man seemed to be energized by it and came charging at me. I turned on my heels to run into my bedroom and lock the door. Imagine my surprise to see the leader Kwame sitting on my bed.

"Hello again beautiful fox. Cage, you let this bitch get a hit off on you."

Kwame spoke while hitting a thick Kush filled blunt. My body was lifted in the air and that pungent smell assaulted my nostrils heavily. Cage flung me on the bed and back handed the hell out of me. My head instantly began to ring. The force from his hand had me drop my gun to cup my face. Kwame ran his hand up my calf, giving me a sense of dread.

"That punk man was lucky to have such a fine piece of pussy waiting on him. Then again you can't be too good if he fucked your sister, huh?"

"Fuck you, asshole!"

"Ah, ah, that is no way for such fine woman to speak. That is probably why he traded you in for a younger model. Where is Bash and Kalvon? This is home, no? You can get them here, right?"

I heard him, but I was trying to focus on my room and how the hell I was going to get out of it. Cage was winged already but not destabilized. I mustered up some strength and kicked Kwame in the gut. He coughed a bit. I sat up and began swinging and pulling at his dreadlocks.

I screamed out loud hoping the neighbors or a passerby would hear me. Cage pulled at my hair to restrain me, and Kwame jumped up from my grasp. I had four of his dreads by the roots in my hand and a small victory smile appeared on my face. "Bitch you think that shit is funny?"

SPLAT! CRACK!

Kwame spit directly in my eye and then slap the cowboy shit out of my mouth. I felt the skin split on both my lips. He then jumped on top of me and began raining blows to my face and abdomen. I covered up the best I could. Cage still had a death grip on my hair leaving my face open for assault.

What had I done to deserve this fate? Marrying Bash was going to possibly cost me my life or leave me severely disabled. After five minutes of fighting, I begged him to stop. I cried out and pleaded until my right eye began to swell shut. Finally, he stopped and sat up looking at my pummeled body.

"You American women don't know how to show respect. If you survive this bitch, remember to always bow down to a man. Now where the fuck is them fools mane?"

"I don't know! I swear Bash moved out. I can give you the address to his new home."

"That is not good enough. Your pussy is not good enough to bring him here to you? Then what the fuck do I need you for? This was a waste of my fucking time!"

Kwame pulled out a gun and I began to cry harder as my life was about to end. Cage walked over to him and whispered in his ear. A sinister grin spread across both of their faces. Kwame licked his lips and roamed my body with his eyes. I immediately began to get nauseous at what may be going through his mind.

"I bet you're a screamer, huh, bitch? You like for a man to own that pussy. Swallow all the cum that's shot into that nice warm mouth. Just thinking about it got my dick hard."

His fingertips started at my ankle and gently started up my leg. I silently began praying to God that this did not happen to me. Soon as he reached the snap on my pants, his phone went off. Saved by the bell would forever be my phrase if I made it out of this. Kwame answered his phone and walked toward the doorway.

I let out a sigh of relief that was short lived when I felt a rough hand touch my calf. Cage was now giving me a devilish grin. Kwame hung up the phone and began speaking in his native tongue. Cage seemed agreeable then got mad pointing in my direction and they briefly argued. Wish I knew what the fuck they were saying. After three minutes of back and forth, Kwame looked at me and spoke.

"You are spared my wrath as Bash has been located," Kwame said and then walked over to the bed and climbed on top of me. He leaned down to my ear and coughed. His cologne was too damn strong mixed in with the weed smell. His snake like tongue did a lap over my lobe and then entered the canal and I yelled out in disgust.

"How does it feel to know that your ex is begging your sister right now for the pussy? While you lie here beaten and bruised for his mistakes. You are a fine hoe and making you scream would be my pleasure. I know my dick is bigger than his. Unfortunately, your suffering will bring him around faster. I am going to leave Cage here to strip away what little fight you may have left. Die with the thought of your sister fucking your husband on your mind."

Kwame finished speaking then grabbed my face and tongued me down awfully. My lips were in pain and the saliva seeping into the open wound only made it hurt worse. His breath was foul. He sat up and lifted my leg to smack my ass and walked out the room.

I looked at Cage who was starting to undress. There was no way in hell that I was going to lie here and let him rape me. I started to think about everything Bash had taught me over the past two years, and the self-defense classes I barely paid attention to in college.

"Alright, bitch let's see what that mouth do?" Cage said, stroking his manhood to life and spitting on it. "Noooo!"