Realisation

She took her phone in her hand and listened to the little voice in her head urging her to fill out her profile. She gave in, silently acknowledging the fact that the thing holding her back was the fear that nobody was out there for her. Not on a deep level anyway.

Elena: It may have taken me 20 minutes, but I've signed up. I hate you sometimes x

Amy: I just cheered while the football is on and Jack got very confused lol. Hope it goes well, love you x

Elena: Look at you being a good fiancée x

Amy: Always x

Images of the woman from the previous night, on her knees between the man's legs while he watched tv and ignored her, entered her mind. She pushed them away and started looking at the profiles on the dating app.

The app only allowed people to speak when there was a mutual match and she would get profiles recommended to her daily, with an algorithm that supposedly would learn to recommend better matches the more she interacted with the app. Surely the real influencing factor to a successful match is the reducing pool?

By night's end, she had swiped yes to a handful of men, with none yet swiping her back. On a Friday night, that was no surprise. She'd spent as much time critiquing the marketing strategy of the dating company as she had scrutinising the dating profiles.

She got into bed well after midnight, feeling physically exhausted. Mentally, however, her brain was going at pace, unburdened by distractions. She sat up after some time, groaning in self-inflicted frustration. Freddy walked off and laid down on a shelf in the wardrobe, watching her sleepily.

She started to Google some of the thoughts and questions in her head, landing herself on different forums and threads on Reddit and elsewhere. The posts and conversations were illuminating and opened up a new world in her mind. One that was equal parts invigorating, reassuring and quite terrifying. But still, she learnt that the intrusive thoughts and dare she admit, fantasies, were not uncommon. She took screenshots of some of the posts, ones that related more closely to her, for future reference.

What does it mean when you're turned on by serving someone? Why do I want to lose control? Why can't I lose control?

The answers to questions she only had the courage to write deep into the night were helpful in explaining some of the things about her. She didn't fit into one distinct category or type (who does? Elena reminded herself as a marketing strategist) but straddled a few of them. The questions developed further, and the reading became more relatable.

Do some professional women like to submit? Is it unusual to want to give up control? How could I switch between home life and professional life?

That night, she felt a little less lonely and a lot more seen.

Hours after the browsing began, she paused to recognise just how aroused she was. Her underwear wasn't soaked but she was wet and aroused. Needy.

No use hiding it El, she thought. Poor Freddy's going to have to sleep in the living room tonight.

She returned and opened her laptop up without delay or hesitation this time. Within two minutes, she'd loaded the video and was watching it again.

She kept herself aroused across the twenty-minute runtime, ignoring the fact it was gone 3am. She'd decided she was going to save her orgasm for when the man had his. When the time remaining on the video told her he was surely close, Elena was a mess. She felt needy in a way she hadn't felt before. Not so much in an overtly horny way, more in a .... Yep, not putting a name to that, she finished her thought with.

She was rubbing her clit frantically when the man finally pulled out. He was sweating and his hairy chest was red with effort. She couldn't decide if she was attracted to his face or not, but she was certainly aroused by the concept of him. As he started to stroke his cock over the woman, Elena had to slow down a beat, aware that she was going to orgasm imminently, and it felt wrong to do so before him. She also realised, briefly, that she hadn't used her vibrator at all. That was pretty much unheard of since Amy had got it for her a few years ago.

"Oh fuck yes, give her it," she shouted out as the man shot his load on her body and coated her large breasts. Elena came harder and more intensely than she'd ever done with her hand alone. He groaned as he gave her it and Elena imagined offering her body like that to a man. Letting him mark it. Not letting him; him taking it, she thought with lust.

When she finally calmed down, she was spent. She slept soundly again that night.

_

She started the weekend with a late alarm followed by a ride on her Peloton. Whether it was the antidepressants she took every morning or the receptiveness to her unusual thoughts, she was in the best mood she'd been in for weeks.

Cycling always helped her think, often about work. Investing in the Peloton had been great for her as running outside or cycling in the gym had stopped her from fully immersing herself in her thoughts. She always found the thinking time cathartic, once she got through the swirling mess in her head at the start.

The knowledge of other people sharing her innermost fantasies and somewhat controversial desires emboldened her in a number of ways. She got off the bike after class with firm resolutions. The first was that she was going to research those things further and see where they took her. The second was that she was going to overlay some of those things into her scrutiny of the men on the dating apps. She needed someone who could illicit feelings like that in her if she was going to have something sustainable - that was now clear to her. She reflected on how unlikely it had been, for that video to be found when she was so receptive to it.

She spent the afternoon reviewing the brand concepts and cataloguing her feedback in as useful a way as possible, to allow the agency to move at pace with it. Her mind kept taking her to the dating app, but she kept pushing it back to the task at hand. She was undeniably excited. The video had invigorated her. Awoken something in her.

She accepted that it wasn't the video itself, more the concept of it. That people did that kind of thing. Thought that kind of thing. It transcended sex for her and encapsulated how she wanted to be with a man. There was something there about the service and the loss of control that simultaneously calmed and excited her.

After work, sticking to her resolution, she widened her search on the app, applying a different level of scrutiny. At 36, it seemed quite natural for her to look for a man in his 40s. She'd initially kept it to 2 years either side of her age but, feeling brave, extended it down to 31 and up to 46, reasoning someone younger than her and on the way up might not be a bad match.

She spent the Sunday with shopping for new underwear and then on a video call with her Mum & Dad in Greece. The dating app was relentless with notifications of men liking her profile though she didn't look at it until the evening.

Elena found herself swiping 'no' with an increasing sense of amazement at how repetitive the profiles were. If they weren't posing with a sedated tiger or big cat, they were talking about looking 'for a partner in crime' or someone 'fluent in sarcasm'. It was so cringe. Some stood out and they got a like back, with her first matches finally arriving that evening.

She spoke to them, putting energy and effort into the conversations but they weren't going anywhere. She wanted depth, honesty, authenticity. Jokes and casual conversations could wait. She was probably doing it all wrong but for the first time in a long while, she knew what she wanted.

One or two were passable conversationalists but the conversation was stale. Am I going to end up this jaded in a week or two? By Monday evening, she felt certain it wouldn't even take that long. But she endeavoured to try with the ones that at least showed some promise.

She went on two different first dates, encouraged by Amy who had reasoned, quite fairly, that some people were better in person. She was wrong. The conversations were as plain as they were on the apps. Elena felt stilted by the conversations, as though she was continuously having to stop herself from talking about anything meaningful.

On her second 1st date, she had tried. "Woah, that's pretty heavy," her date had replied, as though talking about life ambitions was as scary as talking about the planet burning up. That was that.

On her first in-office day of the week, it was with a bucket of nerves that she made the journey into work with one of the new underwear sets on. She'd put the bra on in front of the mirror and anxiety aside, it hadn't transformed her breasts. Perhaps made them slightly more prominent but she had a pretty thin figure (it was even thinner a few months ago, she lamented) and larger breasts, so in reality, they weren't showing off anything that wasn't already there. Plus, it looked good. Classier, more professional. She felt better and picked one of her favourite dresses that didn't shape her too much.

By the time lunch rolled around, she had forgotten about it. The day was busy, stressful and intense, as always. She typically worked in the office during the middle three days of the week and Tuesday was her heaviest day of meetings. The big team meeting with the whole department, one-to-ones with her direct reports and catch ups with partner organisations. Yet again she was grateful to have Sophie when she brought her in a salad from downstairs for lunch.

Sophie's foresight meant that Elana could at least have some break. That lifted her spirits and realising she was now developing some kind of bizarre addiction; Elena opened the dating app to look at messages from her new matches and to flick through the recommended profiles. Perhaps it was because of her improved overall mood that she spent more time reading the profiles as they came up. She'd chastised herself the night before for moving on from some matches too quickly - hadn't she promised herself to take more consideration?

A couple of recommended profiles didn't make the cut and then on the 3^rd recommendation, she felt butterflies. Instant, unexplainable feelings of excitement and anxiety as she scrolled.

Why am I anxious? She asked herself. And then the answer: because I really like what I'm reading.

Henry, 32:

Can often be found waking the sedated tigers all your potential matches are seen with. I spend the rest of my time putting my running prowess to good use when they're angry. I occasionally squeeze in time to lead a strategy team within healthcare and create explainers for my bad jokes.

Seeking somebody who knows what they want and wants somebody that does too. If you're looking for someone ambitious, serious and an expert with dry humour, let's chat.

He was handsome too. Not Dante pretty or good-looking like Jack. He wasn't handsome in the standard way Amy would respond to, but he was handsome. He was someone who probably played sports at university and stopped playing a few years before. He'd gained weight but only up to a point. He looked fit and strong, if a bit softer. He had short hair that was somewhat messy and a bit longer in a couple of pictures, and a nose that had definitely been broken at some point. He had a good smile too and one that could be both infectious and a little condescending. That turned her on for reasons best not considered in a work environment. His profile said he had at least 5 inches of height on Elena, and he lived about 20 minutes or so from her.

Mature, dry, self-assured. Forget Mr Eastwood, this was the modern man she wanted to know. The kind of man Amy wouldn't look twice at in a bar, but she'd spend half the night staring at out of the corner of her eye.

If there was a box he wasn't ticking, she couldn't find it. Perhaps being 32? That's a bit of a concern. But then he clearly had quite an impressive job, he was openly ambitious and serious. He was direct and had the kind of dry humour she could get behind to balance it out.

Do women send a priority like on these things or is that just for guys? Amy will know, she thought to herself.

Elena: Hey, so er, I have found a profile I'm into and I wanna make sure he swipes me back. Too keen if I 'priority like'?

Amy didn't reply straight away so Elena closed her phone and got on with emails. It wasn't until 5 minutes before her next meeting that her friend did reply.

Amy: Soz, was on a Teams call. Let's see his profile then...

Elena took a screenshot and sent it to Amy, an eye on the clock. She wanted to like his profile before her next meeting, priority or not.

Amy: Oh interesting! He's definitely got a rugged gentleman vibe going on. He'll be very 'marmite' with that directness but clearly that works for you. Go for it, you've gotta stand out from the competition ;)

Elena: Thx for your vote of confidence x

Her thoughts remained on Henry for reasons she couldn't explain. She didn't lead the calls like she normally would and felt somewhat off her game.

Freddy greeted her by the door later that evening and got his usual cuddle and kiss. Her arrival had distracted him midway through his playtime and he went back to being fascinated by a leaf that she had brought back for him on Sunday evening. After her shower, she felt no better and collapsed on the sofa in her leggings and a comfy hoodie, too drained and frustrated with herself to eat. She wrapped herself in her blanket with Freddy in the other room. She didn't hear her phone vibrate a couple of times while in her strop and only looked at it when the notifications were an hour old, and she accepted it was time to eat.

Henry has matched with you.

Henry: Hey! My friends are convinced that online dating is an existential issue and life was better when people met in bars. I have mixed views on that, but I'm completely convinced you wouldn't have been so forthright with your interest if we'd met that way. Point to online dating. I look forward to getting to know you, Elena.

She smiled at the message and felt those butterflies again.

Elena: Yeah, how would that work, anyway? Would I just have a sign saying, 'priority like' and push past your friends to hand it to you? Look forward to getting to know you too.

Henry: They'd assume I'd paid you to do it, or else it was some kind of prank, so I doubt they'd let you through.

Elena: How chivalrous of them.

Henry: There's a fine line between chivalry and jealousy, Elena. It seems you're it.

She laughed out loud and bit her lip. He's good.

She was on the sofa three hours later, with a similarly large smile on her face and the sound of the dishwasher in the background. There were leftovers for lunch in the fridge and she was secretly quite proud of how her evening had turned around.

Elena: I should probably sleep; I've got a big day tomorrow with a deadline I'm not convinced we'll make.

Henry: What's the repercussion if you don't make it?

Elena: My own annoyance.

Henry: Ah, a perfectionist. I was one of those and then I got better.

Elena: Oh yeah? How did you do that, oh wise one?

Henry: I set my standards to 80% quality, 90% effort and 100% acceptance that I'll kill myself if I strive for more.

She couldn't help herself; she laughed out loud again. They were of the same mind. She smirked into her phone as she thought of a reply.

Elena: Why not 100% effort? You seem like the type, all serious and demanding.

Henry: It's not sustainable. People dip, life happens. Though yes, I am demanding.

Elena: Is this about the time when your matches start to run away?

Henry: One of the times, yes.

Elena: Not me; that got you the priority like ;)

Was I actually flirting already?! Only the surprise had her admitting it to herself.

Henry: I'd better quit while I'm ahead and you did say you needed to sleep, so this is me being the responsible one. Good luck tomorrow. Wear navy, if you can. It's a power colour.

Elena toyed with how to respond to Henry's message, ranging from go fuck yourself through to as you wish.

Silence is your best response here El.

She completely recognised the fact that she got her navy dress with grey trim out of her wardrobe the next morning as a direct result of his message. She hadn't yet decided if it was some kind of subtle compliance or an outright overture towards him.

She answered her own dilemma at lunch when he messaged her.

Henry: How's work? What dress did you wear in the end?

Elena: How do you know I'm wearing a dress?

Henry: You've got five pictures on here; you're wearing a dress in four of them. I played the odds. And tell me about work.

Elena: So demanding already! Work's going well, we met the deadline and I'm happy with what we're taking forward. I'm wearing a navy dress. To answer your next question: yes, it was because you suggested it.

If anyone had walked into her office at that moment, the look on her face would have sent the office gossip into overdrive. She was blushing heavily behind her work makeup and biting her lip. Holy shit, I'm aroused, she thought, as soon as she realised she was biting her lip. This is actually crazy, what have you done to yourself Elena?

_

She met Amy for dinner on the Thursday as usual. The difference was stark. The prior few weeks, she'd been focused on looking positive and happy for Amy, so that she'd worry less. Now she was determined not to let her see the glow that was quickly forming.

"Wow look at them bad girls on show." Amy wasted no time with niceties when she arrived 10 minutes later than Elena and hugged her at the sushi bar. Her eyes were on Elena's cleavage.

Elena was aghast. "Oh my God, they're not, are they?" She'd dressed up, that was true. She was wearing a new bra, also true. But her thoughts that morning had been on Henry as they'd realised the night before that they commuted into the same station and there was the off-chance they'd run into each other.

"No, I'm teasing," she assured her gently. "I'm just used to them being squashed and hidden away."

"I dunno, I've just always fretted about my hard work and the way I'm seen being brushed aside for a pair of tits." Her bluntness surprised Amy, who raised her eyebrows at it. She collected herself quickly enough to be reassuring in the way only she could.

"Have you not realised that no matter how big, or small," she pointed to herself with a grin, "your tits are, you're going to be judged with them by men who are like that anyway? If you've got them, flaunt them. Just keep that hot ass hidden cause I'm reliably informed showing that off won't be acceptable for another 20 years." They both chuckled.

Amy asked how it was going with Henry, though Elena downplayed it some, being careful not to lie. They were still getting to know each other, a date had not been organised, but one seemed on the cards. Elena could see how hard Amy was working to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice. She played with her freshly highlighted blonde hair while sipping on her bottle of beer.