It was a warm night, too warm for autumn, the faint hum of the air conditioning unit rattled through the vents, the cool draft across his skin, mingling with the occasional creaks of the settling house as midnight approached. Outside, the world continued unaware, while inside, protected by curtains drawn tight like a barrier between public and private selves, he existed in a cocoon of isolation. Here, surrounded by the faint electronic hum of his equipment and the subtle scent of stale coffee from a forgotten mug, his favourite tool sat quietly on the desk. He pressed the button and turned it on like he usually does at this house.

Purdey’s agreement lingered with him for days. It trailed him through emails, meetings, even the walk to his car, surfacing again at night as soon as he closed his eyes.

When she later mentioned that things with Lloyd had ended, he didn’t hesitate. He went searching. His fingers typed the site’s name before he’d consciously decided to.

The page opened in a muted glow. He navigated straight to the forum, scrolling through the threads he’d marked, opening each familiar tab with a practiced flick of the mouse.

Midnight came, the distant chime of the clock on the wall marked the hour, but sleep remained a distant consideration as he scrolled through a private forum suggested by one of his regular chat buddies. Ian shared another photo of Purdey—beginning with tasteful, modest images that gradually gave way to increasingly revealing ones as the conversation progressed. The responses stacked quickly as requests for private messages multiplied.

Earlier that day, while Purdey was busy with her workout, sweating through her routine in their home gym, muscles taut under the natural light of the sun that cast sharp shadows across the exercise equipment, Ian had casually mentioned his intentions. The alfresco space smelled of rubber mats and determination, the mechanical whir of the ceiling fan providing a constant backdrop to their exchange.

Ian held up his phone, screen illuminated against the dim corner of the gym. "You okay with this one going up?"

Purdey paused her workout, wiping sweat from her brow with a small towel as she examined the photo. A provocative shot, but her face wasn't visible—just her body in a black G-string, facing away from the camera posed against their bedroom wall.

"This is a great shot, I love it, " she said, her breathing still heavy from exercise. "No face shots, no names, no identifiable details."

Ian nodded, tucking the phone away. "Of course. Nobody will know it's you."

"And I want to see the comments, " she added, resuming her workout. "The last batch was pretty flattering."

Ian smiled, watching her muscles flex as she returned to her routine. "I'll forward them to you tonight."

Later, he thumbed his record app open and filmed their exchange—her voice, her conditions, her explicit consent—saving a timestamp. Friday March 21st 2025 - 6pm. He filed the recording, a mutual protection they'd agreed upon when this arrangement began. A boundary that made their unconventional agreement feel safer.

Just three nights ago, he had stayed up until dawn, meticulously arranging potential introductions, crafting messages that walked the line between respectful and explicit, all according to the parameters they'd established together.

Ian posted the photo with Purdey's approval. A quick crop, a softer exposure, nothing crude — only enough to pull focus toward the curve of her shoulder and the line of her neck, always keeping her face out of frame as promised. Submit. The photo made Daily 10 of the site.

Five minutes later, the video reply came back. He saved the video to show Purdey later, she enjoyed seeing the reactions.

By the time he noticed the hours ticked by unnoticed as he hunched forward, bathed in electronic light. Men praised her, compared details, asked where the photos had come from. Ian replied that it was his wife. He forwarded images, always carefully cropped as agreed, adjusting light and angle like a curator preparing a private exhibition. Each night Ian would repeat his actions, draw admiration and garner responses from anonymous men.

"Seeking confident male connection for married partner" he titled it. In it he described that Purdey was career focus, and didn't go to bars much on her own. So it would need someone who worked in this field. Focus on her career first, then everything else is negotiable." Ian typed and click POST his first Reddit post - his fingers tapped a quick, eager rhythm against his thigh.

Late one night he saw a response to his post from the username "ControlPhreak". Something about the man's direct approach and commanding presence, even through text felt different from Lloyd's raw physicality - more calculating, more controlled.

"She's stunning, " Uzer typed. "Architecture, you said?"

Ian's fingers hovered over the keyboard. "Award-winning. Best in Melbourne for luxury residential."

"Interesting coincidence. I've got a major development needing an architect. Premium waterfront project."

"Seriously?"

"Dead serious. Been looking for someone with vision. Is your wife's portfolio is impressive?"

Ian opened another browser tab, navigating to Purdey's firm website. He copied the link and pasted it into their chat.

"Take a look yourself."

While Uzer looked over Purdey's website, Ian continued sharing pictures of her to other interested users.

"Very impressive, " Uzer finally responded. "I'd like to meet her. Professionally, of course. Initially."

Ian smiled. "And after?"

"Let's say I appreciate beauty in all forms. Architecture included."

"You saw the photos. What do you think of her... personally?" Ian hesitated in response.

"Exceptional. But I prefer to make my own assessments. Photos only tell part of the story."

Ian paused. "And if you like what you see in person?"

"I'm a patient man. Business comes first. Everything else happens naturally or not at all."

"How would we do this?" Ian asked.

"Simple. I contact her firm about the project. You tell her a friend recommended her services. Everything above board."

"And?"

"If she's as talented as her portfolio suggests, she gets a career-making project. If she's as beautiful in person as those photos... well, she might get something more."

Ian paused, considering their agreement. "She knows I share photos, but there are strict rules. No face shots, no names."

"Understood. Business first, pleasure after. Her choice entirely."

"What makes you so confident she'll be interested?" Ian asked, suddenly curious about the stranger's methods.

"I don't assume she will be. I simply create opportunities. Women like your wife appreciate confidence, success, and directness. The rest follows—or it doesn't."

"That's great way of looking at things, I'm impressed at how you handle your business." Ian responded taking notes for how Uzer conducts himself.

***

Uzer's professionalism impressed Ian, he would tell him about the projects he was working and how none of them had shown the workmanship in their designs that Purdey had shown in her own website.

Ian tells Uzer that he designed the website for her and that he's proud of her achievements.

Ian sends a pic of Purdey in a stunning dress, that she wore to a cocktail party last year to Uzer.

"She's stunning, she has a great body." Uzer replied.

"Yeah she's got a great body, 34-24-36. She used to model in her younger days."

"Hey, so I'm close in finalising the deal to recommend Purdey for that waterfront project."

"Great!"

"Looking forward to our collaboration, " Uzer wrote.

Ian closed his eyes, picturing Purdey's reaction to landing such a massive project. She'd been complaining about boring renovations for months. This could change everything for her career.

"What should I say if she asks how I know you?" Ian asked.

"Nothing specific. A cycling friend with connections. Let her form her own impressions when we meet."

"And if she asks more questions?"

"Keep it vague. Mystery creates interest. Trust me on this."

Ian closed the laptop, its blue light fading from the dimly lit study where stacks of books gathered dust on oak shelves. Ian sat on his chair for a minute, letting the blue light effect from the laptop fade from his minds eye. As sleep approached he got up and padded across the cool floor, returning to the master bedroom, with its pale moonlight filtering through half-drawn curtains. He slid under the covers beside his wife, the memory foam mattress dipping slightly under his weight as the distant sound of late-night traffic hummed beyond their walls.

"Everything okay?" she murmured, half-asleep, her voice husky with exhaustion.

"Perfect, " Ian whispered, stroking her hair, his fingers catching on a few tangles. "Are we going to Kim's tomorrow?"

"Yeah, she wanted us to go over, says she's got something important to tell us." Purdey replied as she fell asleep.

***

It had been a few weeks since, Uzer had promised he would contact Purdey but he had heard nothing yet. His mind drifted back to the conversation with his friend earlier that evening, a recurring theme over the past weeks.

"Why haven't you contacted her yet?" Ian had pressed during their video call, watching his friend's expression shift uncomfortably on screen. It was the third time he'd asked this week alone.

"It's complicated, " his friend had replied with the same evasiveness he'd shown since their initial discussion. "The timing wasn't right."

Ian had sighed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "You've been saying that for two weeks now."

The back and forth continued through several more calls, Ian growing increasingly convinced that this potential connection was worth pursuing, while his friend remained hesitant, trapped in his own uncertainty.

"What exactly are you waiting for?" Ian had finally demanded yesterday.

His friend had looked directly into the camera, shoulders slumping slightly.

A brief pause. Then Uzer replied:

“Fine. I'll do it tomorrow. I promise. Your wife's measurements you mentioned earlier — 34-24-36, correct? Just confirming.”

Ian’s thumb moved before anything in his mind caught up with it.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

He didn’t reread the message. Didn’t even register what he’d sent.

That promise was what kept Ian awake tonight, the possibilities swirling in his mind. He'd already mentioned to his wife about "a potential business connection" who might be perfect for her. He spoke of it in measured, professional terms—a mutually beneficial introduction, an opportunity for networking first, with personal compatibility being a secondary consideration.

***

Two days later and e-mail from Horizon Developments arrives in Purdey's Inbox.

Dear Ms. Tan,

I am writing to inform you that our esteemed waterfront commission has a matter requiring professional consultation. Would you be available to review the schematic concepts on Tuesday next at 2 PM in our harbor-view conference room overlooking the maritime district? The space offers a panoramic view of the shoreline, providing contextual perspective for the project discussion. Should your expertise align with the commission's requirements, we may discuss supplementary private arrangements following the official briefing. These matters would be addressed with appropriate discretion in the adjacent executive office, away from the main meeting area.

Regards,

Uzer,

Director.

Horizon Developments

Attached was a 3D Mock-up of what the proposed site would look like, Purdey's mind began rolling as she saw potential in the project and what she could change to make an impact and truly a masterpiece.

Purdey's phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unknown number. She put the phone on loud speaker and glanced at Ian with a knowing smile before answering.

"Purdey speaking."

"Hello Purdey, It's Uzer from Horizon Developments. I wish to discuss with you regarding my email, I want your vision for this faade, " Uzer said. "Full design fee, travel, and creative control. If the program interests you, perhaps a private dinner afterward to celebrate our collaboration."

"It's the connection I mentioned, " Ian whispered. "Career work first. The dinner is part of the networking opportunity."

Purdey nodded, her expression shifting from professional interest to subtle excitement, her eyes meeting Ian's with a quick, meaningful glance.

"Yes, I'd be very interested in discussing this further... Tomorrow at 2 PM works perfectly... Your office on Collins Street... Would you prefer I bring a portfolio or should I email preliminary thoughts first?"

"Send your preliminary thoughts as well as bring your portfolio_" Uzer responded.

"Great, I'll see you tomorrow. Mr?"

"Patel, Uzer Patel."

"See you tomorrow, Mr Patel." Purdey said as she ended the call. She turned to Ian, eyes bright with excitement. "Ian, this could be huge."

"Horizon Developments? Exactly like you mentioned."

Ian feigned surprise, his eyes widening with practiced innocence. "That's him. Guess he took my recommendation seriously."

"This is huge, Ian. Horizon Developments works with international architects. How does your cycling friend have this kind of pull?"

"Maybe he liked your portfolio." Ian sipped his coffee, avoiding her gaze, the mug hiding his mouth. "You're brilliant at what you do."

Purdey studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, the green in her irises more pronounced under the warm glow of the pendant light hanging over the marble kitchen island. The evening shadows stretched across the polished countertops, creating an intimate atmosphere between them. She leaned forward, close enough that the subtle scent of her perfume drifted between them, her voice dropping to a suggestive whisper.

"You didn't show him any of our private photos, did you? The ones with the rules?" she asked, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the countertop, the meaning behind her words carrying a weight that made the air between them feel charged with unspoken possibilities.

Ian paused. "Maybe he was already looking at firms and your name came up naturally in conversation."

"Maybe." She didn't sound entirely convinced, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. "I need to prepare. This could be massive for the firm."

She kissed him quickly before rushing to gather her things, her movement’s quick and purposeful, hands grabbing papers and her laptop.

"Purdey, " Ian called as she headed for the door, her hand already on the knob. "Wear something impressive tomorrow. First impressions matter."

She rolled her eyes, an exaggerated circular motion. "I know how to dress for a client meeting."

"Of course you do." Ian replied casually.

After she left, the door clicking shut behind her, Ian pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Uzer:

“She agreed to the meeting.”

The reply came almost instantly:

“Perfect. Now we wait.”

A minute later, another message appeared:

“What’s her work schedule like? If this project goes ahead, how much of her time can I use? I need to plan the next phase.”

Ian hesitated, checked their shared calendar, hen typed:

“She’s pretty free. She’s going to an art exhibition next month, and meeting a friend for dinner at Robata in a few weeks. That’s about it.”

“Good. I’ll arrange follow‑ups around that. If I happen to be at the same exhibition or restaurant, it creates natural rapport.”

“You sound experienced at this.”

“I am. That’s why you reached out.”

“Right. I’ll send her schedule tonight.”

“One more thing—preferences? Drinks, food? If the meeting runs long, I’ll have something arranged.” Uzer asked

Ian paused, the question hanging on the screen. He felt a faint pressure behind his eyes, the kind that made thoughts slide rather than form.

“Fruity wines. Seafood. Jazz helps her unwind. She’s... artistic.”

“Good. That’s all I need for now.”