Instead, she was sitting here alone, contemplating needlepoint or some other hobby. Rug hooking, maybe? Both seemed suitably spinsterish.
At this rate, she’d have three cats by Christmas and in-depth opinions about bird feeders.
She closed her calendar, and before she could think better of it, opened a dating app.
The screen immediately filled with smiling men. One loved CrossFit. Another loved cryptocurrency. Still another appeared to love himself.
Julia swiped. And swiped. And swiped.
No. No. Absolutely not.
This one had a fish. Why did so many men pose with fish?
She paused at a profile. A tall figure with dark, tousled hair and a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Forensic accountant. Forty-two. No shirtless gym photos. No motorcycle. No ugly fish.
He looked nice enough.
A man who probably paid his bills on time, scheduled annual checkups, and remembered to rotate his tires. Exactly the kind of man she should want.
So why did he seem about as exciting as unsweetened oatmeal?
Her brain immediately substituted an image of Leland standing in a doorway, arms crossed over his chest, tattoos on glorious display, looking mildly annoyed by the existence of everyone around him.
Julia groaned and dropped the phone onto the couch cushion beside her. The forensic accountant never stood a chance.
The problem wasn’t the men. The problem was her constant comparisons, which always ended in the same place.
After a moment of brooding silence, she picked up the phone again. Maybe a traditional dating site wasn’t the answer.
Curious, she googled kink-friendly sites, surprised to find an article listing the top ten. She skipped the “hookups only” places and ended up on FetLife. It was the most well-known online kink community, where she’d created a profile years ago.
She had to create a new password, but her login still worked, and she scrolled through the forums, groups, and upcoming local events.
A group was organizing a beach cleanup followed by lunch. Another advertised a beginner’s rope workshop. Someone else was hosting a game night.
Julia smiled despite herself. People always assumed the lifestyle was about sex. Most of the time, it looked a lot more like friendship.
She spent several more minutes browsing. Then twenty turned into forty.
Finally, she clicked on her profile to update it. The form appeared with places to list her interests and relationship status.
It posed the question: What are you looking for?
She stared at the blinking cursor. What was she looking for?
Not perfection, just someone who chose her without having to be convinced. A dominant who was patient? Protective? A man who looked at her as if she mattered. Definitely one who was adventurous enough to get her out of the doldrums. A man who made her feel safe even while wielding a mean flogger.
Julia blinked.
She had just described Leland.
She logged out. No strangers from the internet. The thought was rather terrifying. Although that was a little ironic, considering the clubs she’d visited twice in the past few weeks.
Finally, she admitted defeat, changed into an oversized T-shirt, and climbed into bed. After wriggling to get her pillow and covers right, she closed her eyes.
They popped open a minute later. She lay there in the dark, listening to the quiet.
Too much quiet.
