Hazel in America

Mr Taylor smiled at Dee and signalled to her to stand. She did so and Taylor's dark hand rested on her just visible bulge "...except that Shaka got there first too." Taylor gestured to Dee that she could sit again. He looked at Levy's face and then laughed, a genuine open laugh with no taunting in it. He nodded his head at the two young women Kali had provided. "Care to choose."

Levy eyed them again. "I'm here two more nights."

Taylor was still smiling as he nodded. "Both it is - and a cut of the streaming revenue as per usual."

The two men bumped fists.

***

"Gather you ain't in the market for ink." Izeye's tone was disappointed. He carefully examined the tattoo of a QOS collar on Hazel's neck. "This ain't bad work. I'm guessing it was Darcus."

Hazel nodded.

Izeye's dark finger caressed the line of her neck. "Yeah - he's pretty good. But a canvas like this deserves the best." His eyes gleamed as he admired the woman's pale skin.

Dee smiled to herself. Izeye had no false modesty about his abilities. She herself could testify to his skills with a needle, with that Big Black Cock of his too.

"Next time you here we need to work together, you hear." Izeye moved round to trace his finger on her back. "I know just the design for here. If I outline it then Darcus can fill the work in back in London. How 'bout a collared white girl riding a big Black bull. Or maybe you on a leash showing a full pregnant belly. You think about that."

Dee knew that Hazel was thinking about it already. She could tell by the way Hazel was looking at Izeye. She knew the woman had been with Levy quite a while but even that perhaps hadn't prepared her for the Taylor Foundation. Here, that sort of strong confident man was the rule rather than the exception. Izeye, Antwan, Tyrone, Marcus, DeShawn, she could keep listing them for quite some time. A heady brew for a woman like Hazel. If she ever met Shaka or Cassius then who knew what would happen. Dee smiled to herself again. She had a pretty good idea just what would happen!

"My wife got your outfit. Good excuse for her to go down-town - she don't quite stock this stuff at her place."

Dee remembered that shop - almost a rite of passage for a new white girl in the lifestyle. Learning how to dress good and slutty for her new men. She guessed Levy had already taught Hazel about that. Tonight they were doing something a little different.

The stream donors had been generous. A Dolce & Gabbana leopard skin crop top that fitted tight and left her arms bare. A Hugo Boss micro mini skirt in leather with a chain belt that only emphasized its shortness. Completing the ensemble were Casadei over-the-knee boots in black stretch suede with five-inch heels.

"How's it feel girl - as good as it looks?" Izeye's wife Lisa was critically appraising Hazel.

"I don't know about the top but these boots are amazing." Hazel was admiring the way her legs looked in the full-length mirror.

"Oh shit," chuckled Izeye, "that fucking accent gonna draw some attention."

"Huh," said the other woman in the room. Roni had been around the hoods long enough to know there were more important things than accents. She'd known plenty of times when attracting a man was how she put food on the table for her and her daughters. Those days were over now but she knew what was required. "A pretty voice don't pay no bills in the Heights. Girl don't fill out that top too good but she got compensations. Lean forward girl."

Hazel leaned forward, the tight leather skirt moving up a little and stretching around the perfect rounded contour of her butt. Roni ran her light-brown hand over the black of the skirt, caressed that curve and then let a finger trace beneath and over the almost-exposed lips of Hazel's pussy. Hazel turned and found herself looking into the older woman's experienced eyes. Roni very deliberately ran her finger back over the entrance to Hazel's sex. Then she smiled.

"Yeah - you ready girl. Let's go have us some fun."

***

Dee knew the drill by now. She knew what their men liked. She knew why Hazel had been supplied with that outfit. It fitted in with the cut-glass accent. It all made her out of place where they were going. She also knew the way the Foundation liked it, the way that she and Hazel loved it. The contrast sold, the contrast made the night special. So she had an idea where they were going even before Roni had let it slip.

The Heights weren't named after any hills or natural contours. They were a series of high-rise developments put up in the early sixties to house people whose homes had been lost to the freeways then driving their way through 'less favored' neighborhoods. The last sixty years hadn't improved them much. They only had one advantage over anywhere else - they were cheap, or the nearest that came to cheap in the Capital. One day they'd be bulldozed for gentrification and everyone knew it. Not yet however and meanwhile why mend or improve something that was gonna be gone soon anyway. Only worth it for the people that lived there and who gave a damn about them?

Nobody did anything for the Heights or the people who lived there - except maybe for a couple of days before voting time. Anything that came to the folk there was prized and savoured because it was so damn rare. Well tonight some of the men there would be getting a special delivery - in Casadei boots and a Hugo Boss skirt. That crop top was the weak link - Roni was right that Hazel hadn't got what was needed to fill that out properly. It didn't matter - the top wouldn't be staying on long once they got there.

***

Two men and a boy were waiting for them at the foot of the tall building, by walls marked and re-marked with the local tags. One said something and the boy disappeared inside. Telling them that the entertainment had arrived.

"Roni," the man nodded to the African-American woman but then his eyes were on Hazel, appraising her and appreciating her. He nodded again and showed a hungry wolfish smile. "I don't know this one - she from round here."

"I'm Hazel - I'm from England." Her voice betrayed no nerves or anxiety Her eyes were drinking in his masculinity, his raw power. This man was another alpha dog.

His smile was still there, "Long way from home. Here looking for what you can't get there?"

She nodded and paused before superfluously adding, "Yes."

He turned to his friend. "What you think Dre - can we supply all this little piece can handle?"

Dre laughed, a strangely harsh sound in the night. "Maybe more than she can handle - you gonna be able to take all we got for you bitch."

"Yes." She didn't hesitate this time. "I want it all."

"Elevator's out as usual. So we gotta use the stairs. Them boots is fine but not so practical so we'll give you a hand."

Dre and the alpha, who Dee knew was called Tyrik, moved each to one side of Hazel. Dark hands gently but firmly grasped her bare arms. Hazel gave a little gasp and looked up into the face of Tyrik. It was momentary and then they were moving. The men leading her in through the battered and graffiti-marked doors and up the first of the stairs.

Dee and Roni followed them, watching the white girl being taken up the stairs, dwarfed between the two big African-American men. No-one seeing them, seeing the way Hazel was dressed, could doubt what would happen when they got to the top of those stairs. The men had claimed their prize and now they wouldn't be denied. You didn't tease men like this, you didn't flaunt your sexuality in front of them and then snatch it away. You didn't say one thing and do another. Hazel was going to get fucked and fucked hard and fucked long. These men were going to enjoy her, to exploit her beauty and her femininity for their sexual satisfaction.

That was what would happen and everybody knew it. It had been certain since those dark fingers had taken hold of Hazel's pale arms. Since she had answered them. 'Yes - I want it all.' She would be getting just that - she was theirs for the night. Their plaything, their whore.

Dee knew all of that was going through Hazel's mind as they took the long succession of stairs. She knew the English girl well enough from their short time together that she was certain the scenario only excited Hazel. The fact that there was no way back now, the fact that having come this far she would have to go all the way. Not that she wanted to back out but the mere knowledge that she could not did something to women like Hazel. It super-charged their anticipation, their desire, their excitement. Which suited men like Tyrik and Dre just fine.

Did Hazel know? Did she suspect? Roni and Dee hadn't told her though they knew, had known since Jenny's call to say that everything was ready for them. They were near the top floor now - soon Hazel would know what awaited her.

They emerged from the stairway to a corridor of closed doors save for the one at the end. That one was open and the noises of loud music and male voices were already sounding out. At the first step through the stairwell door Dee's nose detected the smell of weed. Roni chuckled, "Yeah white girl we throwing you a party!"

Dee watched but Hazel's steps didn't falter. She hadn't imagined that they would but Mr Taylor was careful about such things. If Hazel had backed out then it would have been for her and Jenny to step in. As it was they could join Roni in fluffing and pleasing the men as they waited their turn. Given the jumble of voices from that room some of them could be waiting a while.

Men started to emerge before they reached the door. Hazel's arrival had been anticipated. Six men came out to frame the door, more remained inside. Dee felt her own heart start to beat a little faster. The men were ready and they liked what they were seeing.

Tyrik stopped and spoke to Hazel. "I know you tested clean bitch. You on the pill."

"Don't need to worry about that," drawled Roni before Hazel could answer. "She a good little cracka ho - she knows the rules."

"Figures," said Tyrik, his eyes locked on Hazel's, "the higher-class these ghost bitches look the more down and dirty they turn out to be. Just so's you know we don't use no fucking rubbers round here."

"That's how we white girls like it," said Dee..

Tyrik's eyes flashed across to her and then down to Dee's small baby-bulge. He chucked, "I can see that. Taylor's bitches is always well-trained."

He nodded to Dre and the two men released Hazel's arms. The young English woman knew what would be expected of her in that room. She saw the many eyes on her, waiting to see what she would do. She didn't hesitate and moved forward. The men were closing in on her even before she was properly into the room, yells and shouts of pleasure sounding out. Dee and Roni followed them in.

If the apartment was lived in then they had gone to work on preparing it. Dee doubted that. Much more likely that they kept these rooms for partying - or maybe just for events like this. Again she felt the slight pounding in her heart as she wondered how many women had taken that walk up the stairs. She sometimes thought that she knew all there was to know about the lifestyle around here but it kept surprising her. How many more paces like this were there, how many more men like Tyrik or Dre or the others gathered here.

It was really one large room with smaller ones to each side. To the right was a small bathroom, to the left a frankly wrecked kitchen. At each end of the larger room were battered old couches, cans of beer and bottles of liquor on the floor. The air in the room was thick with weed smoke, if the place had a smoke detector it sure as fuck wasn't working.

There were nine men there, eleven now that Tyrik and Dre had joined them. Crowded in and around Hazel. Moving her into the center of the room and onto the big old mattress thrown down on the floor. It was dirty and stained, this wasn't its first rodeo either. No-one was there for small talk or nibbles. Everyone was there to fuck.

She'd been right about that top. Almost as soon as she was on the mattress the men were holding Hazels arms over her head, lifting the leopard-skin material up and off, exposing her pale skin to their greedy mouths and grasping hands.

The men looked to all be from the Heights, maybe all from that building. All of them were African-American, almost all of them dark-skinned, ranging from their late twenties to their early fifties. The boy had disappeared, presumably to his mother's apartment somewhere around here. There was one older man, his grey moustache and beard prominent against his ebony-dark skin. He was relaxing, drinking a beer and watching the show with a few of the other men. The rest were on the mattress around Hazel, mostly already down to their shorts, forming a dark wall around her smaller pale shape. The English girl was already ready for them, her head thrown back and her mouth open as dark hands explored every inch of her exposed flesh. Her arms, her thighs, her breasts and under that tiny skirt her naked, exposed, pussy.

Hazel squealed as the men moved together to sweep her off her feet and lay her back onto the mattress. It was time for the party to start for real. Dre stepped out of his shorts, eight inches of hard Black cock standing out in front of him. The other men eased back. It was clear that everyone knew that Dre would take her first.

That surprised Dee. She'd assumed Tyrik would claim that right. Instead he was standing by with Jenny and now the latter made her move.

"C'mon now girls," she playfully scolded Dee and Roni in her strong Southern accent, "no time for standing by. We need to get these men ready so that little ho can get all the Big Black Cock she can take." Jenny was well into her fifties now, still with her long bleached-blonde hair and a metallic-blue skin-tight dress barely containing her blowsy curves. She'd been an original Taylor girl and had graduated to be one of his most valued lieutenants. When it came to the logistics of organising an event like this there were few better.

Jenny, Dee and Roni settled down into position as two or three men moved towards each. Dee soon found herself performing a familiar but welcome task. She eased down a pair of shorts to find a thickening Black cock, one that responded pleasingly to her touch, breath and mouth. She left a hand on it as she moved over to the next. A man stepping out of his last clothing and moving forward, his cock already hard against his rounded dark belly. That one hardly needed fluffing but Dee dropped her mouth to it nonetheless. She wanted to please these men. That was why she was there.

She felt a hand reach down to gently stroke her clothed belly. She already knew he would be hard too when she got to see his cock. She knew why too. Not just the sights and sounds and smells of this room. The fact that she, a woman like her, was carrying a Black mans baby, had been bred Black and had come back for more. That was a potent message, a potent symbol. It made Black cocks hard and it made white boys get out their credit cards. Frankly, she didn't care too much about the latter just so long as she was here to enjoy the former. A cock in each hand and now the third in her mouth. Three men ready and prepared, given that extra special Dee attention, ready to take their turn with Hazel on the mattress.

Tyrik was using his phone to film. He remembered when they'd had to heft big video cameras around. Distributing discs instead of supplying live and archived streaming to a select clientele. A generous clientele too. Back in the day he'd been chased for child support. That was no damn fun. Having white boys pay through the nose suited him a whole lot better - and they would pay and smile while they was doing it. Pay in dollars or pay in pussy.

He adjusted his angle. The room had fallen into its usual lay-out. Men on the sofas waiting their turn. A cluster of two or three round each of the fluffers. Then, at its centre, the mattress. He'd thought of changing it but this was all meant to be real and down and dirty. Made bringing a little tourist-turned-hoodrat like this English girl here have that touch of extra spice.

Tyrik knew his job. His lens had captured the moment Dre had welcomed Hazel to the Heights. The men had laid her down and Dre had stepped forward. Hazel had responded by moving her legs apart and bringing her knees up. Strong dark fingers had gripped her and held her there, hungry eyes had feasted on the exposed pink pussy, wet and ready. Dre had held his big cock to her entrance and then moved forward. Tyrik's friend wasn't small but Hazel took him easily. His cock pushing home further with each initial thrust until Dre had dropped his body down onto hers, onto her small breasts with their prominent hard nipples. Her legs and arms had come up round his back, holding him to her as he fucked her hard. This wasn't a romance. This was about a white girl getting what she'd crossed an ocean for. A lot of Black cock and a lot of Black seed. It was about Hazel there giving the Black man pleasure, giving the Black man everything. He'd seen plenty like her before. Women whose pleasure derived from the pleasure of himself and his friends. Which was real fine because none of the men here were leaving till they'd had a piece of that pretty little pink pussy.

Hazel was gasping as Dre pounded her, using her for his sexual gratification. He'd started hard and fast and that meant it couldn't last. But then Dre wasn't there to last, he was there to cum in a stuck-up white bitch's cunt. He did just that - heavy spurts of potent seed just as deep as he could plant them. Hazel moaned and tried to grip him harder but Dre moved free and left her. Tyrik captured the moment. Hazel lying back and already gasping for air. He knew Dre, like the others, would have been saving a few days worth for her but just now her pussy wasn't showing any seed. That would change. As if to prove it the next man moved from Roni to take his place between Hazel's legs. His Black cock moved easily into Hazel, lubricated by Dre's seed. He moved his weight forward and onto the white woman, her arms held him too. Just as tight as they had Dre. Well why not? She didn't know any of these men, didn't know their names, didn't know them from Adam. She just knew their desire for her, their potent sexual power over her. She just knew that they fucked hard and fast and just the way she was needing it tonight.

The second man swore viciously. "Motherfucka!" He gave a couple of last desperate thrusts as he came hard. "Fucking ho is too damn fine." He almost grumbled as he got off her. He'd wanted a little longer but he'd gone early. If he waited round he'd most probably get another turn. Levy said this one had stamina. You wouldn't think it to look at her - looked like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth - but didn't that just make everything all the better. Lots of skanky white bitches on offer nowadays but one like this, talking like she's out of some fucking BBC show, that was something special.

Again Tyrik knew what to film. He caught Hazel's little smile as a third man lined up and pushed his Black cock home into her. Little bitch was made for this, fucking wasted on Levy and his Brits that was for sure. Jerome would be a while. He'd been a Playa when Tyrik was just coming up, a big bull of a man. A regular at these occasions too - a flash of white pussy didn't have HIM creaming his shorts. He'd take Hazel through her paces for sure. Tyrik relaxed and set the phone on its stand for a minute or too. He went into the kitchen and found old Zeb leaning on the door-post.

He and Zeb were the only men there still fully-dressed. Zeb's eyes gleamed as he watched the main room. Tyrik knew there was an extra meaning to all this for a man like Zeb. They'd all took shit off the white man but Zeb had grown up in the forties, been a man before civil rights had even begun chipping away at the old ways in South Carolina. He'd been a man when just looking at a white girl was a real bad idea. Shit - walking on the same street, living in the same town, having the same zip code as a white woman was out of line so long as them old crackas had reasoned. His brother had been put in a coma over just such bullshit. That had sent Zeb up to the Capital and a life of hard factory work in return for a rat-hole in the Heights.