He said sex doesn't feel as good with a condom

      After leaving the BE Fit Magazine offices, I felt like a celebration drink was overdue.  So I called my girlfriend, Veronica who worked as an assistant for a record label in Beverly Hills.

ME:  Vergina!

VERONICA:  I hate it when you call me that.

ME:  I know. But I have good news. Guess who WON'T be standing on the unemployment line anymore?

VERONICA:  Who even stands in unemployment lines?  Isn't all that crap on the internet?

ME:  Uhhhh!  Will you stop asking silly questions and get excited for me please? I GOT A JOB!  Let's go celebrate.  Happy Hour drinks on me.

VERONICA:  Now you're getting my Vergina wet.  Where shall I meet you?

ME:  Rodeo Drive baby!

VERONICA:  What?

ME:  I've always wanted to say that… get it?  Pretty Woman?  Kit?

                            SILENCE.

ME:  Nevermind.  Just meet me at Villa Blanca.

     Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up to Villa Blanca and promptly pulled away.  $25 for valet parking!?  Were they kidding?  I mean-Mama got a new job, but she hasn't gotten her first paycheck yet.  I found street parking and hoofed it to the entrance of the swanky Mediterranean restaurant just in time to meet Veronica.

ME:  Hey lovely.

VERONICA:  Oh, please!  I just got my period and I feel like a bloated cat in heat.

ME:  Horny period?  That happens to me too. 

VERONICA:  Is it possible for a woman to get blue balls?

I laughed as the hostess led us to our table on the front patio. 

ME:  I think a woman can get blue lips, but not so sure about the blue balls.

VERONICA: Well in that case, my lips were so blue last night they were black.

ME:  What happened?!

VERONICA:  So I went out on a third date with Eric.

ME:  You're still seeing him?  I thought you said he was too short for you.

VERONICA:  Girl-I've changed my mind.  I've decided I like them short, white and whipped just like Eric.  And he's really been blowing my skirt up.

ME:  What kind of kinky shit are the two of you into?  What is he blowing up your skirt for?

VERONICA:  Gia, that means he gets the "Vergina" moist.  He blows up my skirt!

ME: Oh, ok. Got it. Go on.

(Veronica is from Trinidad & I'm constantly confused by her "Island Speak.")

VERONICA:  So I go back to his place after our date for a nightcap.  And things start getting all hot.  Next thing you know, I'm naked and he's naked.  And of course, I ask him where the condom is at.

ME:  And?

VERONICA:  And he says, he doesn't like them because it doesn't feel as good with a condom.

ME:  Is he serious?! What are we, in 10th grade? 

VERONICA:  I know!

ME:  What did you say?

VERONICA:  I told him what feels even LESS good is not having sex at all.

ME:  Then what?  Did he tell you he was allergic to condoms too?

VERONICA:  Nope. Then he said he didn't have any.

ME:  How convenient.  Then he asked to just put the tip in, right?

VERONICA:  I think he thought about it.  But I didn't give him the chance.  I put my clothes back on this hot body and marched myself to my car.

ME:  Good for you!

VERONICA:  I've had one too many slip ups, slip offs, and period no-shows to risk another one with him.  And we're not exclusive.  I don't know what other whore he's sticking it in.  My new rule is ALWAYS make him wear a condom.

 ME:  Speaking of condoms, I think my new boss may need one for his eyes?

VERONICA:  Oh, wow!  Already?  Didn't you just start working there?

ME:  Yes! But when he looks at me, he does that thing with his eyes that makes me feel like I'm wearing lingerie.  And not La Perla or Intenzioni, but Fredericks or TRASHY lingerie.

VERONICA:  Yuck!

ME:  Thank God I get to work from home.

VERONICA:  What's the gig exactly?

ME:  I'm writing for this online magazine called BE Fit and the owner of the company is this ex-Mr. Olympia.  He's tall with this creamy milk chocolate skin.  And he looks like he could still bench press a Ford truck.

VERONICA:  Ooooh.

ME:  But he's married. I definitely saw a ring. And I saw pictures of his kids in his office.  I don't know…maybe it's just me.  Maybe I'm being overly sensitive.  He's probably not even thinking about me in that way.

VERONICA:  Honey, look at you. I'M thinking about you in that way.

ME:  Veronica you're crazy.

VERONICA:  But so what?  He wants to bang your back out.  Big deal.  How many executives do you think hire someone because of the slight possibility of seeing their nipsy russels.

ME:  Veronica! He hired me because I'm a great writer!!

VERONICA:  Of course you are. And you've also got a sweet ass.  You just have to set your boundaries with him and everything will be fine.

ME:  Okay. You're right.  Where is our waitress?

Who no longer has to wait by the mailbox for her unemployment check? THIS GIRL!

Spring has Sprung! The sun is shining. Flowers are blooming. And I've got a pep in my step because MAMA GOT A NEW JOB! I got a call to write for an online fitness magazine. The owner is an ex Mr. Olympia. A good looking brother in his early 50's. Charming. Full of smiles and compliments. And built like a brick shithouse.

After reading several of my articles and conducting a Skype interview, it was finally time to meet my new boss in person.

 The BE FIT Magazine headquarters were situated at the top of a tall, swanky building in Century City. The office had sprawling views of Los Angeles from the beaches in Santa Monica to the hills of Hollywood.  Mr. Fit sat behind his large Carpathian elm desk with his feet propped up Mad Men style.   He dismissed his assistant who had escorted me in, and walked around to shake my hand.  His eyes slowly took me in from the fedora titled on the side of my head right on down to my Giuseppe Zanotti platforms.

"Giovanna!  It is my deepest pleasure to meet you.  You are even more beautiful in person."

I blushed and took his hand as he kissed mine.

"Wow. Thank you. It's very nice to meet you as well.  I love your office.  The views are incredible."

Mr. Fit walked over to his wet bar and began pouring himself a cocktail.  I felt like I was meeting with J.R. Ewing.  Everything's bigger in Texas, they say.

And apparently Mr. Fit was too, or so his super tight trousers hinted.  By the way -who in the hell drinks a double whiskey on the rocks at 11am?  Mr. Fit gestured as if to ask if I wanted a drink too.

"No, I 'm good. Thanks."

"Well you're welcome to come enjoy the views here whenever you like.  If you've got writer's block, come on down here. I'll set you up in one of our spare offices."

"Thank you very much. I'm really excited about writing for BE FIT," I said taking off my hat and placing it in my lap.

Mr. Fit walked around to my side of the desk and leaned back against it just a foot or so away from me. "Giovanna, as I said during our teleconference, I want to encourage you to bring your young, hip style to our publication.  I don't want those tired how-to workout articles.  They've been done to death!  I want fun. I want adventure. I want sex."

I coughed and nervously tucked my hair behind my ear.  "I'm sorry. Did you say you want sex?"

"Yes!  Sex," he said emphatically.  "I want to make this into a sexy magazine. And by sexy, I mean edgy!  I want your articles to lead the way in innovative new workouts.  If the latest craze is couples taking tantric sex swing classes at Equinox-I want you to be the one breaking that story.  Get into those classes! Swing on those swings!"

I took out my notebook and began scribbling furiously.  Partially out of embarrassment but mostly so he wouldn't see me hiding a laugh.  "Well, I'm actually single. So it might be hard for me to attend a couples tantric sex swing class, " I said.

He took a swig of his whiskey and walked towards the windows. "Ahhhh, single. I remember those days. Best days of my life." Mr. Fit climbed up into his window ledge and pressed his nose against the glass.  "Now, I'm just an old married guy stuck in a loveless marriage."  Placing his glass by his feet, he suddenly stepped into a handstand.  Where in the hell was I? Cirque du Soleil!

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I'm sure married life can't be that bad. Um. I know there's a window there and everything, but you're kind of making me nervous."

He turned right side up.  "You're right. I got three fantastic kids out of the deal. The self-involved, manipulative wife must've been the bonus."

"So...no cocktail parties at your house I take it?"

He laughed just a little too loudly.  "I wouldn't do that to my staff.  I'd like them to stick around.  Enough about me!" Mr. Fit hopped off of the window ledge and I inhaled for the first time since I walked into his office.

"Beautiful Giovanna, let's get you out there on your first assignment.  I want you to write an article on how you stay in shape.  Seven days in the life of Giovanna.  I know our readers want to know how a young, hot, single gal like yourself keeps your body so tight."

I smiled and fumbled to put my notebook back into my bag.  "I can definitely do that.  I've been wanting to take a new yoga booty ballet class at my gym.  So this will be my motivation."

Mr. Fit walked alongside me as we headed to the door of his office.  "I can't imagine you'd need any extra motivation.  I can tell you're ambitious all on your own." As I reached for the doorknob, he put his hand against the hard wood to stop me from opening it.

"If you need anything at all Giovanna, you call me. Anything. I get this feeling around you like I just want to take care of you.  Here's my personal cell phone line."  Mr. Fit handed me his business card.  "You can call me anytime of day or night on that number."

I accepted the card and reached out my hand for a firm shake. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Mr. Fit took my hand and pulled me in for a big hug. That lasted just a little bit too long.

"Good luck kid. Knock 'em dead out there!"

I smiled and waved almost tripping over a flower pot as I walked towards the exit.  The receptionist pursed her lips and shot me a knowing stare as I said good-bye to her.

This job was going to be interesting.