"Mistress Dolores, I'm coming home," Steve Sutton said to himself as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. The big and tall, ruggedly handsome and dark-skinned young man smiled with satisfaction. Decked out in a blue silk shirt, black silk pants and black Timberland boots, Steve looked good and he knew it. He simply hoped that the lady he was going to meet liked what she saw...
A few months ago, Steve, whose interest in the BDSM lifestyle was increasing, surprised himself by attending a meet and greet lunch in the By Ward Market area of Ottawa, Ontario. He heard about the luncheon on Fetlife, and supposedly, some of the heavy hitters of the Ottawa BDSM scene were going to be there. Steve showed up, excited and nervous, and ended up meeting a woman he couldn't forget.
Mistress Dolores was one of the attendees at the By Ward Market munch, and she definitely took Steve's breath away. A statuesque five-foot-eleven, curvy and sexy, with light brown skin and thick dark hair styled into a puffy Afro, Mistress Dolores had an unmistakable presence. The lady looked fantastic in a black leather overcoat over a black tank top, black leather pants that did wonders to show her thick ass and thighs, and knee-high black leather boots.
"This lady means business," Steve thought to himself as he gazed at Mistress Dolores, who sat a table with three other women and about seven men. Most of the other people at the table were in their forties and up, and white, of course. Mistress Dolores was the only person of color on the premises, other than Steve, of course. Fortunately, the brother was ready for the challenge...
"What have we here?" Mistress Dolores intoned, looking at Steve as he approached her table, and he returned her smile. His eyes met hers, and he saw curiosity and something else in those almost luminescent brown orbs. According to Mistress Dolores profile, she was born and raised in the City of Barcelona, Spain, to a Spanish father and a Nigerian immigrant mother. She had that unique beauty common to mixed-bloods, and seemed all the more exotic to Steve...
"Good evening ma'am, I'm Steve, or SK-1170 if you prefer," Steve said, and Mistress Dolores looked him up and down, a flicker of interest in her eyes. Steve knew how he looked. He was born in the City of Kingston, Ontario, to Jamaican immigrant parents. When he told people that he was of Jamaican descent, they often remarked on his lack of any discernible accent. As if Jamaicans only came in one flavor...
"Always be more than you seem," that was a code that Steve Sutton lived by. When most people met his parents, Luther and Celina Sutton, proud Jamaican-Canadians and owners of two Afro-Caribbean restaurants in the Kingston, Ontario, area, they didn't know what to make of them. The idea that an immigrant family from the Caribbean should be happy, successful, and well put together seemed threatening to most Canadians.
Growing up in lily-white Kingston taught Steve Sutton to be strong, cautious and analytical, since the locals didn't know what to make of him. The City of Kingston, Ontario, isn't like Toronto or Ottawa or Montreal. The locals aren't used to seeing non-whites. The number of Africans, Latinos, Arabs and Asians in Kingston has always been extremely low. As a result, people of color are treated like the proverbial other in Kingston and the locals don't shy away from expressing their dislike of those who don't look like them.
Steve Sutton approached Mistress Dolores table with the casual confidence of a young black man who's been fighting racist white guys ever since he could remember. When the white males at the table looked at him, Steve returned their gaze. He'd been dealing with their kind in his hometown of Kingston for a very long time. There was little they could do or say to him that hadn't been tried before...
