Never Too Late to Play: The Profile 6

The penultimate chapter to The Profile. This book was written almost as I posted, and while I knew where I needed it to go for the third novella in the series, I wasn't sure how it was going to get there. It's really helped fill in a ton of details, though, for who Julianna and Stephen are, which has been pretty amazing. It's also quite a bit longer than I'd anticipated (only 5 chapters, rather than 7).

Chapter 6

THE HUSBAND: Just testing to see whether this thing is on.

ANA: Yes, dear, I installed it and set it up.

THE HUSBAND: You stop by the coffee shop again?

ANA: No time yet. Still at the gym. Think I should see if Jonathan is there today?

THE HUSBAND: Of course! And definitely keep your gym clothes on when you do.

Julianna had to laugh. Ever since she installed this discreet messaging app on her phone, Stephen had been blowing her phone up with messages. She also noticed that while he was hesitant to talk about some things face-to-face, he didn’t seem to have a problem texting.

She actually found that to be true for herself, too. It was easier to send a text when she wasn’t looking him in the eyes. It was easier to be “Ana.”

Julianna set her phone into the cup-holder of the treadmill, took a sip of water, and cranked the speed up. She could hear her phone buzzing with incoming texts, but focused on her workout for now.

Stephen had taken over screening all of the initial messages through the app. It became tedious for her after the first week of doing it together, and Stephen had sensed it. While she was open to the idea of maybe embarking on this journey, she didn’t love wading through the details.

So Stephen began to filter through all the dozens and dozens of incoming messages, including replying to some for more details, and once he found some that she might like, he’d pass their information along to her on Kik to continue the conversation. So far, he hadn’t sent her any, which wasn’t promising.

They’d put her profile up on a few platforms, but eventually settled on one called Debauch, a “dating” app that served not just cheating wives—like on Ashley Madison—but also “hotwives” and “cuckolds.” There was this whole new lexicon out there for her to learn, and Stephen seemed to know all of it. She wasn’t sure what was harder to wrap her head around—the terms like “bull” and “stag” or some other male animal, or her husband’s near expert knowledge of all of them. He’d clearly been holding onto this fantasy for so long, and because of that, she decided to indulge him.

But of course it wasn’t just for him, either. The thought of being with another man was thrilling, if still a little outlandish. She’d been with the same man for so long that she’d almost forgotten what it could be like with someone else. Now, she thought about it all the time.

“Yeah, if I had that ass, I’d definitely be checking myself out all the time,” came a deep voice beside her. 

She nearly lost her step and fell off the treadmill.

“What?” she asked. But she had been checking herself out in the mirror beside her—how good she looked in her tight, blue leggings and matching tank top. Her ass was bigger than she liked, but she worked hard to keep it from getting out of hand.

“You know what I’m talking about.” She saw the man in the reflection first, jogging lightly on the neighboring treadmill. He was a very attractive black man, with thick, muscular arms that drew her eyes and made her wonder what else about him was thick. She immediately blushed and looked away.

“Don’t trip,” he said. “These things can be dangerous.”

She shut the treadmill off and skipped the cooldown. “Um, you’re right.” Then she made some excuse about needing water before rushing off, feeling the man’s eyes on her the whole way.

***

ANA: You find anyone interesting yet?

Stephen stared at the message. Recently, she’d started to open up a lot more and play along, but almost exclusively through Kik. It was like she could easily slip into her Ana persona online, because her fake name was literally next to her messages.

THE HUSBAND: Maybe a few… Want to talk to one?

There was a long pause on her end, which Stephen immediately interpreted as her having second thoughts. He silently cursed himself for pushing too hard, especially after restraining himself these last few weeks.

The couple of weeks since they’d posted the profile had been very educational. ”Ana had included some pretty clear instructions about what she was looking for: a man who practices good grooming habits, is fit, isn’t overweight, up-to-date photos, and no pictures of dicks. Yet despite that, easily a third of the messages were a simple “Hey” followed by a picture of a penis.

Those, he immediately swiped left on.

Then, there were the cringy screen names that came through: “MrMuffDiver”, “YourHotLover” “FitFucker9Inch”, and so on. Maybe this was the modern pick-up line, reduced all the way down to 15 characters or less. They all got swiped away, although he did show her “10inchCockandGun” just to get a laugh.

“Ouch,” was all she’d said. It validated all the pre-screening work that he was doing. This wasn’t an activity to undertake while curled up on the sofa together sharing a glass of wine. There was nothing sexy or erotic here. It was purely administrative, where the creeps definitely overwhelmed any potential winners.

Because there were literally hundreds of these messages, Stephen set the bar extremely high. All those terrible screen names were out. Anyone leading with a cock pic was out. Anyone with spelling or bad grammar in their profiles were out, too.

That got him down to profile photos. It’s funny, but despite being together for over three decades, Stephen wasn’t one hundred percent sure what Julianna’s type was. He knew what she didn’t like, though, and weeded out anyone without a fit body, or too much hair, or photos that looked like they were taken in the man’s glory days. He eliminated guys who were too young, guys that were too old, guys who posted pics that were just bad.

That was another surprise. Stephen wasn’t anywhere close to being a “photographer” but he knew how to take a decent photo. Some of these guys had no clue, totally inept at taking selfies. There were so many photos of these guys in messy bathrooms, no shirt on, camera over their face, flash on. The lighting was just bad. The other most common selfie was of these guys sitting in their car, seat belt on, phone about dashboard high, looking forward while driving or sitting in traffic.

Swipe.

So that left a choice few that Stephen actually responded to. Maybe as few as one in five. About a third of those simply said, “Hi” or “Hey” or “Hello”. 

That’s it. 

Swipe.

Some responded the way that Stephen had expected. 

“Hey gorgeous. Will you be in town soon? Would love to hook up.” 

Swipe.

“Hey. You are gorgeous. Would love to get to know you better. I love to please a woman. Have great stamina. And love giving oral pleasure.”

Swipe.

“I can’t wait to come all over those tits. Let’s meet up ASAP.”

Swipe.

No, no, and no.

It left a handful of even remotely acceptable profiles—profiles that were thoughtful, used proper grammar and sentence structure, a modicum of something humorous or clever, with a photo or two of a fit body that hinted at someone who cared about appearance and style, who also responded to his initial messages without coming off as a douchebag.

He’d been gathering some profile names, but hadn’t passed any on to Julianna just yet. That still made him nervous. That was the true test.

ANA: Send me one. I’m curious what you’ve found.

Her message snapped him out of his musings and fears. His heart leapt.

THE HUSBAND: I thought you were at the gym.

ANA: Maybe someone here inspired me to flirt with strange men.

THE HUSBAND: Someone hit on you?

ANA: Mmm hmm. Muscular black man. Do you have any of those in your roster?

Stephen’s breath caught. This was the kind of thing she’d never say to his face—hell, she wouldn’t even be able to say it over a normal text, but here, where she was “Ana”, it came much more easily.

In fact, he didn’t have any black guys on the short list. He didn’t think they were her type, and this proved that there was still so much more to learn about her.

THE HUSBAND: Not right now. But I do have this guy.

Stephen quickly went over to one of the few guys that he’d found—a man who actually seemed semi-coherent when he’d messaged him a few days back.

He briefly contemplated just asking the guy to send her a message directly, but she sounded like she wanted something now and he worried that the guy could be a flake.

THE HUSBAND: How about this guy? He’s in LA, where you’ve got a trip planned next month…

With that, he sent along a few photos that were from the man’s profile. The first was one of AJ wearing a button up shirt, untucked, over a pair of designer looking jeans. He had his arms crossed and the cuffs rolled up enough to show a tattoo sleeve on one forearm. He had what Stephen thought of as trendy hair—nearly shaved on either side with a short faux hawk of dark hair down the middle. No way Stephen could pull off that look—at any age—but this dude rocked it.

The next photo was a shirtless shot of the man, hands on his hips. The lighting was good enough that Stephen suspected some kind of professional behind the lens. That was a good mark for him, a sign that he cared. His chest was hairless, another positive mark, if he knew his wife, and you could see a lot more of his tattoos, the dark ink etched over his shoulder and well-defined pectoral muscles.

They’d exchanged a few messages back-and-forth, and this guy seemed qualified. He’d been a bull to other couples, even offered to put Stephen in touch with some as references. That did give him a bit of a pause, thought, like maybe this guy was a bit too much.

He sent the photos off, but didn’t immediately get a response from Julianna, which of course sent his mind to all kinds of places. Was it too much? Was she upset with him that he actually sent her something? Was she somewhere touching herself as she looked at those photos?

THE HUSBAND: If you want, I can give him your Kik info. His name is AJ.

Her response came back almost right away.

ANA: I don’t think so. This guy looks like an asshole.

That wasn’t the response that he was expecting, although upon studying the photos again, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

ANA: I’m also not a huge fan of the tattoos.

Another thing he didn’t know.

ANA: I’m not looking for some bad boy man-child, honey!

“But you are looking,” he said out loud, to himself, before realizing that he was at work. Then he decided to write it back to her.

THE HUSBAND: But you are looking!

ANA:We are looking. Yes. But sorry, AJ, you’re not the one for me.

Final installment coming this Friday.