"I'm Ricky Mason, A.K.A. Redbone Slice, and I am a brother who likes dominant black women with strap-on dildos," said the tall, athletic and muscular light-skinned dude with the cornrows and jailhouse tattoos as he sat across from me at the munch in the east end of metropolitan Ottawa, Ontario. Oozing with raw masculinity and swagger, Ricky stroked his goateed chin and smiled at me.
Clad in a purple silk shirt, black tie, black silk pants and black Timberland boots, Ricky Mason looked pretty damn good. I looked at him and smiled, impressed with his honesty and swagger, though I acted nonchalant and kept my cool, since it's what's expected of me as a dominatrix. The things I am going to do to your cute ass, I thought.
"Nothing wrong with that, Mr. Mason, call me Mystery Noir," I replied as I shook his hand, and Redbone Slice smiled. We sat inside Creole Sensations, a small restaurant located in the Vanier area, and as we dined on some tasty Haitian food, I was quite pleased by the success of my latest undertaking. It's not easy being a black dominatrix in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, where the local BDSM scene is whiter than the snow on the ground.
In my day to day life as an analyst for the Canada Revenue Agency's auditors division, I am surrounded by white faces. As a six-foot-tall, attractive black woman in my early thirties, I get stared at by these supposedly liberal and progressive government workers. I'm not fooled for a minute, for I've seen how my co-workers treat the cleaners and security people working in our office tower, most of whom are some type of minority. Canada has a class divide as well as a race problem, let no one tell you different.
"Anita, where are you originally from?" asked my co-worker Deirdre Tully, a plump white bitch with an ugly face who likes to get her nose into everyone's business. We were sitting at the restaurant located at the lower level of Place De Ville, which houses the Canada Revenue Office where I happen to work. I just wanted to eat some curry in peace, but this bitch had to fuck it up...
"Well, Deirdre, I was born in Ottawa so that makes me Canadian," I replied calmly while looking pointedly into Deirdre's frosty blue eyes. After a moment, she got the message and changed the subject. The other people seated at our table smiled and continued eating their lunch. I, Anita Saint-Hillaire, have something of a reputation at the office. I am polite and respectful, I excel at my job but I don't suffer fools, ever.
I studied business administration at Carleton University right here in the City of Ottawa, and later went to train as an account at the University of Ottawa. I hold several degrees, and I speak English, French, Spanish, and my native tongue of Haitian Creole, quite fluently. I am a professional through and true, but with a hidden wild side, as you can see.
That doesn't mean that I escape the forces of prejudice and discrimination which are alive and well in Ottawa, albeit in a subtle and usually passive-aggressive manner. I love my blackness and glamorize it. I don't give a fuck if that hurts anyone's feelings. The whole world seems to have something against people of African descent, and black self-love is the first form of self-defense against that.
That's why I decided to organize a munch for black men and black women into BDSM, and I was pleasantly surprised to see six people turn up. Seriously, the last time I attempted anything of the kind, I was the only person who showed up. It was depressing, and I didn't try again for a long time. At last, it would seem that I've succeeded. Black folks in the Ottawa area who love BDSM are coming out to play...
Along with Ricky here, I met two Somali sisters, Nadia and Yasmeen, along with a Jamaican dude named Jackson, this Ethiopian woman named Jerusalem, and a young Nigerian guy named George. They're at the other table, dining on tasty griot, and mingling quite nicely. I love being with my people, fellow Africans of various origins. We're strong and beautiful when we're together.
"So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Mason," I said with a smile, and Ricky nodded, and told me about his difficult upbringing in the City of Toronto, as the son of a Jamaican immigrant father and a white mother originally from the United Kingdom. Basically, the brother fell onto the wrong side of the tracks early on, but now he's out of the game, supposedly for good.
"I discovered I like working with my hands, and I have a mind for business, so I'm studying business at Algonquin College," Ricky said proudly, and he even took out his school ID to show me. I looked at it, complimented him on his cuteness, and Mr. Tough Guy actually smiled bashfully. Gosh, I love brothers, whether they're pureblood African or mixed-race, there's nothing like strong and sexy black men.
"Glad to hear it," I said, and Ricky looked at me, an intense look in those lime-green eyes of his. Ricky reminded me of actor Vin Diesel, only darker-skinned, and more muscular. What is it about biracial guys that make many sisters like me melt? I've got a thing for Vin Diesel, and The Rock, and that sexy dude Boris Kodjoe. Shoot, I've got a fantasy where I get gang-banged by all three of them. Hush, their wives and girlfriends don't need to know...
After a scrumptious dinner, Ricky and I went for a walk around Vanier, which is a friendly and diverse neighborhood, in spite of its bad reputation. Ricky was smooth and charming, and just like I thought he would, the handsome brother from Toronto tried to pick me up. I had to turn him down when he suggested we go back to his place near Blair Station, since I don't fuck guys I just met, but I gave Ricky my number.
"Holler at me, sweetie, you won't regret it," Ricky said with a cocksure grin, and he gave me a hug and put me in a cab. I hugged him back and playfully smacked his ass, something I'd been dying to do since I first laid eyes on him. Ricky and I parted ways, and I was all smiles as I rode the cab to Rideau, then took the bus back to Barrhaven, Ontario, where I live.
The very next day, I got called by Ricky and we had a nice long chat. Afterwards, we met for drinks at the D.J. Nel's Bar in Vanier, then went back to his place. See? I'm a nice and patient gal. Ricky and I are both adults, and what we do is nobody's business but our own. Besides, I like younger brothers for their energy and stamina, and wanted to see what Mr. Redbone Slice was made of...
