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Me: Can you meet me later?
Plopping into my chair, I answer a few emails, glance at a few account balances, and check on the club's numbers. Hours go by as I lose myself in work and no new messages appear on my phone.
Anger rises inside me. He wants to stay away, then fine. It’s time I dispose of my little crush anyway. What good has it done me? I've been wandering around like a fucking lost puppy, consumed by the memories of the desire in his eyes and tenting in his pants when we were last in my kitchen together. I think about it every time I step into the shower or am naked under my sheets. My hand becomes his when I slide it down to touch myself.
Tilting my head back, I close my eyes, remembering the first and last time our lips touched. If only I could forget it. Would having someone else take his place help me move on? There's only one way to find out. Pulling out my phone, I scroll through a kink app I've been on a few times and swipe over a few Doms' profiles. Occasionally I come across a few switches. So far, I've only talked to people from the app, never meeting them in person.
I first started chatting with women until I realized it wasn't them I wanted. My father always shamed my sister for being who she was, and then I learned it was only because he felt shame for himself. The bullshit was engraved in his head based on the backward beliefs his parents shoved down his throat growing up.
I won't have him do it to me. Especially now. It would make him a hypocrite. His relationship with Andres is a secret from most people, but not to those who are closest to him. It'll keep pouring outside his walls like water in an overflowing tank and more people will want him dead for it. Am I ready to be in the same position as him? I can't hide forever.
I message someone who I feel will be good enough. I hit send, observing how my flirty hello pops up on the screen.
My phone pings and I read the message, smiling. It doesn't reach all of me as much as I wish it did.
Jay45: Hey there. What are you up to tonight, sexy?
Me: Nothing. Looking for another person to play with later? I'm needing someone to pretend to be my Dom for the night. We can discuss more details in person.
Tonight, I’m looking for more than sex. I crave having Fernando's hands on me. More than inside my hole and around my cock. I've snuck inside his room at my dad’s house once to rub his leather belt down my body, imagining what it would be like to have it slapping against my bare skin. I shudder, a hunger curling inside the pit of my stomach. I can't ignore the gripping sensation any longer.
After watching a few videos between Doms and their subs, I've wanted to experience it for myself. Only one person comes to mind when I picture myself kneeling on the ground. I can pretend for one night. My life has been full of faking it until I make it moments.
Ping.I focus on the screen again.
Jay45: You don't waste any time, do you?
Me: I don't have much to waste.
Jay45: How about my place in an hour?
Me: Message me the address and I'll be there.
Jay45: Will sex be on the table as well?
Me: We'll see.
Jay45: What's your name?
Me: No names and no phone number exchanges.
Jay45: If that's what you want. Anything works for me.
Rolling my eyes, my stomach knots. Am I really going to do this? He has similar eyes and hair color to Fernando but he isn't him. No one else would ever be.
I can't wait around, hoping he'll hold my hand or kiss me back someday. It was more than I expected at the funeral after I made a move on him weeks before and it nearly broke me when he pulled away. I needed something and I didn't know what until he wrapped his large, warm, callused fingers around mine.
Standing up from my chair, I glance at the cameras again, watching the workers in the back room. A woman raises her hand to her mouth, pretending to yawn. I tilt my head. Nothing about the way she moves is natural. She goes back to working and her lips press tightly together, her cheeks slightly puffing out. Juanito is on break so two other men are filling in for him.
Fuming, I rush to the back and push my way past the two guardsmen. “You,” I say, pointing in her direction.
She glances around, her expression portraying innocence.
“Stand up.”
The woman slowly rises to her feet, placing her arms at her side.
“Are you hiding something?”
