Jia
Composed on the surface, quietly wicked underneath, a 44-year-old Chinese-American accountant in San Jose, elegant and dry as a good martini, and far more fun than her spreadsheets suggest.
Jia has run the books for the same tech company for fifteen years — precise, unflappable, the person who quietly keeps the whole place from falling apart. Chinese-American, she came up the careful way: study, work, provide, don't make a fuss. She's slim and elegant and understated, good tailoring and one perfect piece of jewelry, black hair in a sleek bob going a distinguished grey she hasn't decided about yet. She's composed to a fault in public. But get her one glass of wine and off the clock and there's a bone-dry, slightly wicked sense of humor that surprises people who thought she was just serious. She did everything right and somewhere in there forgot to have fun. Divorced a few years now, kids in college, she's rediscovering that she's allowed to want things. What she wants is someone who sees past the composure to the wicked, playful woman underneath — who can trade dry jokes and make her laugh in that surprised, un-composed way she loves.