Page 7 of João
“If you’re gonna say you’d never hurt me, please allow me to tell you I wouldn’t trust a stranger.”
“I never said I wouldn’t hurt you. I said I’m no harm to you. There is a difference. I’d never do anything you didn’t ask for or need.”
What in all the angels’ names did that mean?
“That is not very reassuring.”
“Isn’t it? You’d be in control of anything that happened to you. Wouldn’t that be liberating? To ask for what you wanted and get it unequivocally?” His polite mask never slipped, but his eyes… My God, his gaze burned a path down my face, through my chest, missing nothing. I didn’t know what he was saying and it was clear he was a bit shaken at what he said, but it had a deeper meaning.
Books I’d read before, books that I’d hidden away and read in the dark, books of whips and chains came to mind at his words.Could he be? Could it be?
Not knowing why but following my instinct, I pulled my phone from my purse and gave it to him. The man had looked startled at his words but now was back in control.
He took a picture of himself and then gave it back to me.
“Now go ahead and save my contact information under Quentino João Santos. People close to me call me João.” He rattled off a number and I put it in, following his instruction a little too well. I flushed at the thought, but he seemed to belooking at me as if he was proud, and I couldn’t help but bask in that feeling.
“You can text me now,” he said.
I paused, wondering if I wanted to do that….
“I only have my word, but you can trust that. But you have my photo; you should take a picture of my plate too, and if I do anything out of pocket, you got plenty to get me in trouble.”
Shaking my head, I texted him. His phone chimed right away.
“What name am I saving your number under?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting as he awaited my next decision.
“Gisele,” I whispered.
“Nice to meet you, Gisele. Whatever happened today to you, as you said, you’re strong, And it’s gonna be better. I’ll be calling you this week to set up our first date. By the way, we ain’t strangers; we’ve seen each other before. You sang at my father’s funeral.”
Quentino João Santos nodded at me and swiftly pulled out of the parking space, smoothly driving away as I stood there wondering exactly what had just happened.
My phone vibrated in my hand as I stepped back into my car.
João Santos: I made sure to leave before you; you’re safe to drive home.
Who was this man?
And what did I just agree to?
the first date
JOÃO
The potential new members list faded from my peripheral view as I turned my chair away from my laptop, done with the day’s work. Dim sunlight filtered in through the wooden shades, illuminating the dark blue walls filled with bookshelves.
Purpose, goals, and objectives had been a given in my life since I knew I was an adult. After years of hard work and dedication, my club was finally a well-oiled run machine, surrounded by a robust community of like-minded kinksters. My father was gone, no longer around to cause havoc in people’s lives. My siblings were settled, each with their partners, enjoying the fruits of their own labors. Peace and satisfaction should be the prevalent feeling inside, but instead, nothing.
An eerie blankness had taken over. It had been surrounding me for months, a year probably, flitting in the corners of my mind, and now it had taken fully over.
My kink, my domination, had suffered for it. Not wanting to be anything less than what my last sub needed, I took a step back from scenes. My old bottoms, little by little, found new Tops whocould better provide them with the submissive environment they needed.
I was tapped out. Never in my life had I felt this way. It had been months since my hands picked up a paddle, months since I’d felt the rush of a well-thought-out scene, the bolt of pleasure at having a sub down on their knees, their obedience fueling me.
Maybe what I needed was something different. I hadn’t pursued a relationship in years, having learned early in my kink that I wasn’t good at mixing romantic feelings and personal power dynamics. Every relationship of mine had been vanilla. They’d been open to me exploring my dominant side in nonsexual ways, and that worked for each of my ex-partners. I’d realized early I didn’t like the man I became when I mixed love and kink. My personal hard limits were varied, and I felt myself straddling those lines each and every time I tried to mix the two.
So I stopped trying.
