by Tomas, G. L.
It wasn’t ideal, but I wasn’t too proud when it came to my daughter having a roof over her head. I would have to deal with the consequences of that situation when I crossed that road.
The soft hum of my rain-simulated ringtone went off and on this road, there was no way I was going to answer it. Hypocrite much?
But what if it were my daughter’s school? What if they were calling to say they’d lost her or that there’d be no one to watch her because I was running late? My pessimism was definitely affecting me in a way I thought would go away if I maintained positive thoughts. This was my daughter. If the school officials were calling, I needed to pick up. I pulled onto an exit with a rest stop and pulled into the first one I saw. I placed my cell phone into the clip against the vent on the chance I’d have to put it on speaker.
+358905587887
What the hell kind of number was that? That couldn’t be right. It was clearly an international number, but unless some foreign prince was calling me to deposit half a million dollars into my bank account, I didn’t care who it was. I put my car into drive and thought it best to ignore it for now. I’d only lost a minute or two hopping onto the exit. It had just been a huge relief that it didn’t have anything to do with Olivia.
* * *
I’d dropped Olivia off at my mom’s place as I didn’t know what else to do but drive around for a few hours. I should’ve been looking for work. I’d definitely told my mother and daughter that’s what I’d planned to do after explaining the bad news. But I think I just needed some time to myself to figure out my next move. I didn’t want either of them to see how scared I was. I was minutes away from having a mental breakdown.
That number started to call again. In fact, since I’d been on the road, it had been the fourth time that number showed up on my caller ID. I was a little annoyed; did a telemarketer want my business that bad? They’d be disappointed to hear not only did I have little money but that within the few hours I’d lost my sole source of income, too. A part of me wanted to pick it up and just admit that, just so I could be mad at someone who wasn’t my former boss. Or at the very least force someone to listen to my problems right now.
The ringing hadn’t stopped by the time I finally picked it up. “¡Buenos dias Benny! Cómo estás?”
My torso nearly felt like my insides were hardening and forcing the air from my lungs. It was as if my entire midsection felt like a delicate and fragile piece of ice, ready to break if I so much breathed the wrong way.
“Hello?” A voice in a heavy yet clear, thick Finnish accent flowed throw the speaker. Maybe it was because I was rendered mute that the person on the other end thought I’d hung up. My mind was lost between somewhere and nowhere for several seconds before I realized I never answered the voice back.
The foreign number? The attempt at Spanish? That Finnish accent? It was Olli. My…
“Hi,” was all I could think to reply back. My heart nearly melted when he softly returned the greeting.
“Hi.”
Now that I thought of it, Olli’s voice wasn’t one I’d heard—or heard from—in close to eight years. It was like one day we were two madly in love kids getting married on a whim, to a couple who couldn’t figure out how to make our homesickness work to save our relationship.
Olli and I had met in Spain through a matchmaker who had, in her own time, created a non-formal BDSM matchmaking service to those she’d encountered from her travels all over Europe. Olli had been studying there to earn his master’s in International Business, while I’d been traveling to my birth country in efforts to decide whether I planned on studying past my bachelors.
Mistress Alice had encountered so many people in her thirty years of being a Domme that she was convinced she could create a network of kinksters and match folks based on her knowledge of their needs and reading others’ auras. It didn’t always work out well when you were limited to an area with very few participants in BDSM, but she was always honest of what to expect should we decide to take her advice on if we wanted to meet potential kinksters in her network.
When Olli and I had been set up, it had been a blind date. I was reluctant to meet with a Dominant with less experience than me. I feared he wouldn’t wow me like more experienced Doms I’d matched well with but clashed greatly in our vanilla lives. Mistress Alice assured me he’d met all the prerequisites I’d laid out for her before she suggested a match in my area: tall, European, if unable to speak Spanish, at least converse clearly in English, and most of all—single.
I was surprised upon meeting in a public place, the six foot four import was originally from Helsinki, and it just occurred to me that I’d never pursued or been pursued by a man from a Nordic country. His lips had been full and poetic, much like his virescent eyes that screamed man of nature. For all the pre-reqs he’d met physically, there was something interesting about his Finnish mannerism that I thought would eventually turn me off. All I could remember thinking the whole time we sat down for the first time was how a man could be so handsome yet so awkward at the same time.
But he was surprised to meet me as well, as he had his own reluctance meeting an American. He later admitted that he hadn’t known I’d be black, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway because he never specifically asked to be matched with someone white; it just was more likely to happen considering the location. With just one date, we’d agreed to see each other again so that we could get to know each other better. As one thing lead to another, we were married.
For most of the two or three months of our marriage, we’d been happy. But when we’d gone back to his homeland of Finland, I grew homesick. We compromised on spending some time in the States, but he found it difficult to find work. It wasn’t long before we mutually decided that maybe we’d been feeling so much intense emotion that we’d likely rushed into a situation that couldn’t be solved with just passion, love, and Dominance and submission alone.
There’d been no hard feelings from our separation, as we promised to keep in touch. But days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months, months converting into years. I wouldn’t have even thought about him past the few nights I felt lonely in that way only a man’s touch could shake me out of. We were a part of each other’s reckless decisions in the past. There were reasons why I should have kept in contact, but as the years flew by, it became more difficult to.
Why would he be calling me now? What would warrant communication after years of barely acknowledging one another’s existence?
I wouldn’t have to wonder for long. Lucky for me, Olli wasn’t one to dwell long on small talk. “It is good to hear from you, Benny. I know it has been a long time since we’ve spoken. I hope you are well.” He went on to say that my voice sounded the same, even nearly eight years after our last encounter. Apparently it had taken him a moment to decide if he’d even wanted to ring me. Even though we had unintentionally become estranged, he hadn’t wanted to disrupt my current life or remind me of what we were. When he did get to his reason for calling, I have to admit—I wasn’t ready for it.
Granted, it had been my idea for him to go back to Finland. Deep down, I knew it disappointed him that I didn’t want to leave with him, but seeing as how I had a challenging time in Helsinki in the same way he’d had in West Covina, it had been better at that time for the both of us to part ways.
Little did I know, the next time I might hear from Olli that he’d be in the process of living his best life. Without me. “I do not wish to burden you, Benny. I wouldn’t even be calling if it weren’t absolutely essential to my current circumstances.”
Eight years. Eight years since I’d last heard his voice. That voice that once made every nerve in my body light up upon contact. The same voice that made me wet for just the chance to be with him at some point in my day. The voice of the only man I ever loved.
He was getting married. And our marriage had caused him grief in his new relationship that could only be resolved by contacting me. “It’s so good to hear from you, O
lli. I’m glad you finally found someone,” I managed to say without crying. “I’m happy for you.”
I’m happy for you. I really meant it because even though I’d never had to say it to myself until now, I still loved him. Liked him. Loved him. Still in love with him. I wanted the best for him even if I wished the best was me. I learned the most about myself in my relationship with him. I learned how to be in love and submit at the same time. I’d learned how to be a supportive wife, which to a Finnish man held a different meaning to a man of a similar culture to my own. I’d learned my core values, and along the way, learned I could orgasm fourteen times in twenty-four-hour span.
I wish I were hearing from him under better circumstances. Hell, maybe I wouldn’t even be in this place if I’d fought for us, or at the very least made him aware of things he deserved to know about after he’d left for Finland. But that wasn’t our situation. Our situation featured the love of my life getting on with another woman. Another woman he wanted to make his wife, another woman he made love to. I wanted it to be me, but it wasn’t. And I wasn’t about to stand in the way just because I’d made the mistake of not fighting for us in the past.
“My lawyer has drawn up the paperwork. I could’ve faxed them to you, but given our history, I would prefer to fly you out and do things in person.” Olli had taken care of a round trip flight, not to mention, he’d also taken care of my accommodations.
“I don’t know what your financial situation has been over the years, but I’ve been comfortable. I am more than happy to provide a settlement to make sure you have what you—”
“No. I couldn’t take your money,” I interrupted.
“Benny, I insist. It’s taken a while, but over the years, investments have worked greatly in my favor. All my initial fears about the financial risk my career would give I have been able to overcome with the encouragement you gave me so long ago,” Olli admitted. While Olli had always had his mind focused in finance, which he later admitted to pursuing, he’d always wanted to get to a point where he wasn’t working his entire life. He had wanted to retire younger than the traditional age of sixty-five, and from his perspective, he could only do that with investing.
I wondered how close he’d gotten to meeting his goal, but any money he’d earned over the years didn’t feel right in my hands. It would definitely help my current situation, though. I had to wonder if that was fate’s way of telling me I’d be taken care of in my time of need, but hearing Olli’s voice made me remember him in ways I cared not to. I could take his money, but it would never replace him. If I took money from him, it would feel like a type of payoff or an invitation to never cross paths again. The selfishness in me wasn’t sure I wanted that.
“Olli, whatever life you’ve made for yourself was all you. You’ve earned what you have and have every right to keep it. You’re about to get married! You’re rearing up for a future that will likely need it.” Indirectly, I was speaking to the lavish wedding I’m sure he was going to have.
He’d never wanted one personally but mentioned wanting to give something like that to me one day. Guess I shouldn’t count on that promise to come true any time soon. I agreed to take the trip to Helsinki if it would expedite the process, deciding I would figure out the details with my mother later about Olivia’s care. It wouldn’t be as big a deal as she’d make it, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to make the trip without another lecture.
Olli took down my travel information, surprised that I still lived in the same place since our estrangement. I’d saved the two letters that he’d written me from his part of the world, but considering our situation, I wouldn’t have known what to write back. He wanted me in the air within the next few days as he confirmed that my ticket he purchased remained open when I was ready, as the next few minutes were filled with nervous chatter and lasting farewells until next time.
We said our goodbyes and waited for the other person to hang up the phone. I was hoping he’d hang up first. I stood for just a second, thinking of all the information I had to take in from our fifteen minute exchange. I heard him breathe on his end and say “Hello?” almost as if a question, as I finally decided it was time to part with the line. Olli’s new life would start the minute I signed the divorce papers and left.
Hot, burning tears streamed down my eyes, and I broke down into an uncontrollable crying fit. As if my day couldn’t get any worse, I had to go back to face the only person I’d ever wanted a future with create a future with someone else. My heart felt so heavy, that I don’t think I could ever love like that again.
5
Olli
Then
The arranged Skype sessions required for this particular matchmaker service was coming to its final session before I’d be matched with someone Mistress Alice felt might suit me. It wasn’t a public service; therefore, you had to be referred by someone in the community before any interviews occurred. Luckily for me, I’d known her partner through the Dominant that mentored me, so that made the screening process a breeze. I wasn’t sure if they’d find me a match, as I was a very selective person and required a woman of a certain skill set to fully understand my quirks as well as my conventionally positive traits. I’d already been set up a few times and neither had panned out exactly as I planned, either from a lack of communication or a misunderstanding between cultures.
I found that I didn’t mesh well with American women. They tended to talk about superficial things that didn’t matter to me, and despite being in search of a submissive for play time, I was also equally interested in dating her, and that made a difference in whether or not we were compatible. Even if we had little in common, I wanted to feel a connection within the first moments of meeting her. For the most part, I’d found American women alarmingly attractive, but thus far, not one had been a good fit for me.
Studying abroad in a foreign country gave me the opportunity to meet other women in the community that I didn’t already know. Who didn’t have the desire to alter their usual dating preferences while having the chance to date so many women of different cultures? In my native Finland, I did have a few instances to date a Russian woman, but that had been the extant of my mingling with other people. As long as she spoke English, it didn’t matter what she looked like. As long as we got along well before we auditioned each other to become play partners, I was open to almost anyone who was open to me.
“Bonjour, my Finnish friend. How are you today?” I could hear her on my laptop before the image buffered clear. She was a mature woman, at the youngest sixty from what I’d known about her, and enchantingly breathtaking. It was hard to compare her looks to someone who was half her age. While she didn’t have youth on her side, there had been no race to stop the clock with supplements or surgery. She possessed the face and figure of someone who’d clearly taken care of themselves when it mattered most, and it showed how intimately she carried herself. Sharp blue eyes with soft, wispy moonlight white hair and lips that were always adorned with a rosy shade of pink that perhaps matched her natural, full pout. She was the epitome of French womanhood.
“Bonsoir, Mistress Alice. Comment ca va?” I asked in her native French, which ashamedly, I wasn’t particularly good at. She always appreciated the effort, but we’d mutually come to the conclusion that English was just easier for us to communicate.
I had to admit, at first, I was a bit reluctant with a modern day matchmaker service for people in the kink lifestyle, but what I’d learned from the experience was that it was the person, not algorithms and matches based on percentages, that helped you find the perfect fit. It meant getting to know her clients inside and out, something your standard dating app wasn’t able to provide. She learned early on that crowded play parties, group outings, and dungeons weren’t my ideal place to meet a potential submissive, and despite attending and even enjoying those particular experiences, I’d always found them daunting and overwhelming. The intimacy of being set up with one person when I wouldn’t have to fight for anyone for their attenti
ons was initially what attracted me to the service and what I preferred.
“So, I have some good news for you. I have a new prospect for you. If you have time this weekend, I’ve arranged for you and my match to meet locally.”
“She lives in Madrid?” She nodded, aware that while I was studying for my Master’s in International Business at the Universidad Carlos III de Madrid, I’d been interested in meeting women where I was staying. The less traveling, the better. She knew me well enough to know what I liked and disliked, but because the matches often never saw each other until their first in-person date, I never had a chance to screen them and do a quick profile search on social media. For the most part, I was always attracted to the women she matched for me, but when I got into a conversation about preferences, she let it be known that while she usually honored “types”, this time, she made an exception because of our past interviews about expanding my horizons.
“I must confess. She is not your usual type, but I have a feeling you’ll like this one. She has this indescribable love for the world and is such a beautiful soul. I’ve actually known her for a few years. I met her at a play party in Las Vegas in 2016—”
“Is she American?” I cut her off, unintentionally sounding ruder than I intended . She grimaced, trying hard not to let on too much while having a chance to fully explain herself.
“Technically, yes, but”
“No Americans. We’ve already discussed this.” I felt my nose flair at having to repeat myself after the last failed attempts but also acknowledging that she was essentially my superior. She’d been a Dominant probably longer than I’d been alive and despite my frustration, she deserved my respect. She tucked in her pouty lips and adjusted herself on the other side of the screen. When she took a deep breathe, I acknowledged that I needed to take a step back and listen to what it was she was planning to tell me before I rudely interrupted her. Her eyes, blue and steady like waves brushing lazily along a coast, had a calming effect on my mood. I’d choose my words more sensibly before I questioned her wisdom over my often selfish partialities.
