XL Magnum PI

Time to jump on the Merry-Go-Round. Swipe, pause, swipe, nanosecond pause, and on and on it goes, until at some point, someone has that special something that catches your attention. Intuitive, perhaps. Instinct, maybe. False advertising, definitely. Look at this one, hmmm, no, next….oooh, look at that one.. I wonder why all of the pics have toilets in the background today? Last week, there were a ton of pets. What if you don’t have a pet? Swipe, swipe, swipe. The options are infinite.  The descriptions and desires, feigned humor, and contrived hilarity. Filters, cliches, and fakes. Hop off the wheel, and take a break. No worries, get back on to find the same familiar faces. Sure, you’ll find a few newbies, but the veterans resurface as well; back to try their luck once again. Round and round they go.

This is why he made the executive decision to be blunt, and just get the the point. He was sick and tired of putting forth effort into crafting a profile, when in reality, he knew what he wanted. He wanted sex. Sex, sex, and more sex. That’s it. It wasn’t easy, seeing as his very public position in the city forbid him to post his face. On his day off, he spent hours creating the perfect new image. One that said everything, without saying anything. He toyed with his badge, carefully polishing it with a microfiber cloth until it sparkled. He then snapped a few pics of it leaning gently against an extra large eggplant. This just wasn’t quite right. It felt like an insult to his P.I. status. Standing in his training uniform, which still fit him like it did on day one as an officer, he glanced in the mirror. Flexing strong biceps while adjusting his broad shoulders, he practiced that intense “sexy stare”.

Next, he tried to take a photo of the badge on his upper body, but it still wasn’t right. He worried that it might even scare potential “shoppers” away. All of a sudden, the glittering golden foil package of Magnum condoms caught his eye. He kept a stack in the bathroom in a clear box on the counter. He had nothing to hide. He was a sex god. God of sex. A private investigator, sure, but his real talent was sex. He needed it, and he needed it a lot.

Removing the badge, he carefully set it on the counter. He proceeded to take off his uniform, watching himself undress in the mirror. God Damn. He still had it. After neatly folding his shirt, he laid the badge on the navy fabric, positioning one shiny gold packet next to it. Adjusting the still life, so that XL size was legible, he grabbed his phone, and snapped a couple of pics. Smiling to himself, he clicked on the dating app, uploaded the new profile pic, and walked out into the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, again, he glanced sideways, admiring the silhouette of his powerful physique reflected from the mirrored closet doors. He was a God. A God Damned God. He fell back onto the bed and started to scroll through the pictures. Swipe, swipe, swipe. Pause, and click. Swipe, swipe, swipe.

Kept

Joey had been living his life as a kept man, and a gigolo on the side. It’s not something he planned on. It just sort of happened. Well, it happened the day he met Delores. She was a bawdy customer at the bar where he worked the closing shift. One night, like so many others, Delores had had one too many martinis, and, while pressing her sweating breasts over the edge of the wooden bar, she beckoned Joey over with a long red laquered talon. “Hey hon, ya think you wanna give me a ride tonite?” Joey, being the consummate professional, assumed she meant that she was too drunk to drive home the few blocks across the flat industrial town. He asked her to wait 10 minutes until the end of his shift.

Exiting the buiding, she held his strong arm, teetering on her stilettos through the parking lot. She pressed a car key into his hand, and he opened the door to her dilapidtated Cadillac. The scent of stale perfume and cigarettes permeated the interior. She told him to get into the drivers seat and take her home. As he fastened his seatbelt, she reached over and grabbed at his crotch. Joey was only 23, and Delores, well, she was definitely older than his mom, and perhaps even his gran.

The first time it happened in that Cadi, they just leant the seats back. Her excitement, triggered his ego, and he was addicted immediately. The scent of well-worn whole grain leather, White Diamonds,  Benson & Hedges and Aquanet intoxicated him. This moment would remain with him for life.

Joey continued seeing Delores, initially in exchange for food, and meager trinkets. Later on he was given a watch, numerous shirts, socks, underwear, and once, an incredible pair of alligator boots. She lavished him with attention and occasionally, he would find a 100 dollar bill tucked into his wallet. He had a key to her house, and he came and went as he pleased. Delores was always available, except for Wednesday nights, for those were her “service” nights. He started to notice odd items around her home. There was an alter at the entryway, filled with embers and small metallic bones. In addition, she had a few strands of ancient looking beads, and unusual amulets strewn about on doorways, and hanging in corners. Now and then, she would burn something, which left a sour note lingering in the air.

One night, as they shared the giant bathtub, full of bubbles and red rose petals, she closed her eyes, leaned her head back. Slowly she opened her eyes to meet his. Staring for a few moments, she said “ It’s time.”…”Time for what?” Joey was confused. “You’re ready. “ Delores mesmerized him with her stare, as she caressed his strong arms. He really didn’t think much of it, because he always went along with her whims. She told him to keep next Wednesday open, and have an all black outfit ready. In fact, she said, she would get him something to wear.

A few days later, he got to her house to find a pair of black pants and black button down silk shirt laid out on the bed, along with shoes to match. He dressed in the outfit, and walked downstairs to the living room where Delores sat in an extravagant black velvet gown. She smiled with approval. “Come here, come baby.” He sat next to her, inhaling the scent of her potent fragrance. She stubbed out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. After offering him a drink, she took his hand in hers. Delores had beautiful hands. Long fingers, decorated with cocktail rings, which sparkled in the low light. She looked him in the eyes, “listen baby, this means everything to me, and I want you to know I’m doing it for you.” He smiled a weak smile, not sure what to make of her cryptic message.

The clock in the hallway struck 7 pm, and Delores startled. “Let’s go!” she told him. “We need to be there by 7:30.” He dutifully followed, feeling a bit numb from the drink she had given him.

Somehow they arrived at the service, and shuffled in behind a line of people all dressed in black. Upon closer observation, he realized that all of the people were women! He turned to ask Delores why, but she only stared straight ahead, expressionless. He thought he heard music playing. Either it was muffled, or he was drunk. As they reached the alter, he saw a cloaked priest or priestess, holding up a flask containing a deep red liquid. Further in the distance, he noticed a platform, with a sort of ditch around it, in which there appeared to be dark water flowing. Delores pressed him forward as his body resisted. He felt all eyes on him, and the humming began ever so subtly…a soft hum which gradually became an unbearable crecendo…hands were now touching his body, and massaging his arms and back, he was being pushed forward to the alter. The women swarmed and pressed inward….

Trader Joe’s Gigolo

Ever since he could remember, women had fawned over him. He was a real head turner, and he knew it. The ladies loved him, and he loved them back. Again, and again. And, again. Years passed. He fancied himself a player for life. Love ’em, and leave ’em was his motto. Even if it meant shacking up with one, while managing a few on the side. Sure it became work, but he preferred to consider it a “lifestyle”.  A few more years passed, and eventually, juggling so many women began to consume him. It became a full-time job. So much so, that his actual career as a science lab manager went into a downward spiral. He wound up with a menial position at a pet store, where he got fired for trying to seduce a customer by putting a snake inside her blouse. Fortunately, he was still living with a clueless “girlfriend”, and she was all too happy to support him, since it gave her a sick sense of self-control. Self-control was the very thing he lacked. Not long after he lost his job, she came home from work one day to find him in bed with a wealthy elderly neighbor. Needless to say, she kicked him out immediately. He vanished without a trace.

These days, you can find him lurking around Trader Joes parking lots. Wearing a fitted t-shirt and jeans,  pretending to be on his phone, he looks slightly lost and confused. But as soon as he sees a single lady headed to her car with grocery bags, he shifts into high gear, and heads towards her with a studied swagger. Giving her his hungry eyes, and a slight smile, he pauses, then says, “excuse me, but you are so beautiful, I just had to tell you.” Usually, the woman swiftly slides into the vehicle, and backs out at high speed. But, occasionally he has a lucky day, and she pauses long enough for him to engage her further. He runs his fingers through his albeit thinning hair, like he’s seen men in cologne ads do. He’s still got it. Trader Joe’s parking lot has been good to him. There are lots of single ladies. and they definitely have food and a car. Soon, he might need to find a new location. He’s considering Home Goods or TJMax.

 

Lost in Translation

Veronica was a very cool chick. She managed to make juggling a high-pressure PR job alongside a packed social life look effortless. Her jet-black hair was always perfectly cropped. A fringe of bangs grazing her almond-shaped, kohl rimmed hazel eyes. She was into music, and going to see bands play was her thing. Not only for the music, but for the musicians. Veronica loved musicians. In fact, she would only date men in that category. Exclusively musicians.

Over the years, there had been quite a few of them. There was the guitar player from a German punk band, an aging but still relevant American rock superstar, and even the lead singer from a very famous British pop group. However, nothing had ever panned out into a long-term relationship, and she was getting to the point in life where she craved more stability. For this, she knew she would need to expand her horizons.

One of her close friends was doing the on-line dating thing, and raved to her about how much fun it was. She told Veronica that there were so many cool guys out there, and she should really give it a try. Veronica was not interested, but she did reluctantly take a look via her friend’s profile and she noticed that yes, there were some cute guys on this thing. While browsing, there was one in particular who caught her eye. Her friend told her she could use her profile to hit him up. And, this is how she met Fabrizio1.

Yes, Fabrizio1 was Italian, imported directly from Italy. Currently working in San Diego as a tattoo artist. Oh, and did I mention that Veronica was a tattoo aficionado? Oh yes. He responded to her right away and they began a chat (using her friend Viki75’s account). He didn’t spell too well, but she quickly realized it was because his English skills were not up to speed. This didn’t bother her, in fact she preferred foreign men to the average American guy. He sent her a selfie from work at the tattoo shop. He stood in front of a wall of tattoo designs and artwork. He was tall with shaggy black hair, green eyes, a sexy smile, and from what she could see of his arms, and neck, he was loaded with tattoos. Perfect. She sent back a quick pic of herself standing on the balcony at her friend’s apartment. She had her trademark heavy black eyeliner on under those sharp bangs, and he liked what he saw. He commented that she looked totally different from the profile pic and she divulged that she was just using her friend’s account. He didn’t seem to care, and he asked her when would she be free so he could take her to dinner. She lived in LA, and he told her he would drive up and meet her.

They decided to meet at a cool restaurant off of Sunset Boulevard. Veronica waited in the lounge at the bar anxiously watching the door. Under her long black sweater she wore a fitted mini-dress with thigh high boots, and her go-to black fishnet stockings. A vixen version of Stevie Nicks. She watched as a few couples walked in and were seated. Finally, in walked Fabrizio1. She recognized him immediately. Wearing a beat up vintage leather jacket, and black jeans, he was even better looking in person. He looked around the room and made eye contact with Veronica. She smiled and he walked over to the bar. He sat by her and leaned over to kiss her on both cheeks. He smiled and she noticed the gold tooth. Could he get any hotter? He was so relaxed and easy to be with. Funny and charming. He told her he was hungry, and he asked the bartender if they could order at the bar. They shared some delicious tapas and drank red wine. The conversation flowed. He told her about the town he was from, and the reasons he decided to become a tattoo artist. Fabrizio had traveled all around the world and his life story was intriguing. She was very attracted to him. As they finished and the bill was paid, he put his hand on her thigh and leaned over to kiss her. It was a soft, romantic kiss, and she noticed that his hair smelled of the sand and sea, with a touch of smoke and leather. Yum. As they exited the restaurant, he asked her where she had parked, and she told him that her car was just around the corner on Santa Monica Boulevard. He asked her if she would mind driving him to his car. Sure she would do that, no problem. He put his arm around her and they walked together. He paused to kiss her intermittently. She felt warm all over. They got into her car and she turned on the ignition. He leaned over and pushed her sweater off of her shoulders. He asked if he could kiss her some more. She closed her eyes and he stroked her neck and ran his fingers through her hair as he put his lips to hers. She felt his grip on her head get firmer and suddenly her head was being pushed down onto his lap. She opened her eyes to see his hand holding his penis aiming straight at her face. She jerked her head up and told him “ This is not gonna work”, he pushed her head down once again, and said to her with his heavy Italian accent, “no, no bella mia, it work, it work, you keep doing and it working”. She raised her head again, trying to compose herself. Looking straight in his eyes, and with a serious tone she told him, “no! this!” Pointing to his lap. “This is not gonna happen!” A sudden flash of light in the darkness blinded her for a moment, and she noticed that a police officer was walking up alongside of the car. He tapped on the window. She sharply hissed at Fabrizio1 to “put that thing away!” as she rolled down the window. The cop, peering into the vehicle, asked if everything was alright. Yes, yeah, fine, she said. Alrighty then, he told them, have a good night then and remember you need to move your vehicle by 11. He turned and walked away. Veronica waited a minute in silence. She then turned towards Fabrizio1 and firmly told him that he would have to go get his car on his own. He tried to apologize. He told her she was just so beautiful that he couldn’t help himself. He went on and on about how in Italy things are different. He begged and pleaded, but she said nothing. Finally, she looked him in the eye and said in a stern loud voice “just leave!” He shrugged his shoulders, got out of the car, and she watched him saunter down the boulevard through her rearview mirror. She could see a couple of blonde party girls teetering in their high heels towards him. He paused to flirt with them. After a few moments, and what looked like laughter amongst them, they changed their course of direction, and turned to walk with Fabrizio1 into the distance along the boulevard. The last thing she noticed was his arm wrapping around both girls waists. She shook her head and started ignition of her Charger, taking off with a roar.

From Romania with Love

I’ve often heard it said that you should always go after what you want, rather than accepting whatever falls into your path. This applies to lifelong passions, studies, the perfect job, and of course, above all, the ideal mate. Or should I say the pursuit of the perfect relationship. Relationships ranging from basic companionship, to the simply sexual. Of course, there are the not-so-simply sexual as well. Then, of course, those involving long term love affairs, and of course marriage. Whatever the relationship desired, it is preferable to seek out what you want, instead of accepting what comes your way, or falls in your lap, so to speak.

My friend Viva is always driving around town in a rush. She’s a beautiful, creative and athletic woman, who runs her own very successful business as a jewelry designer. Most weekdays, you will find her up early to get the kids off to school, followed by a hike or surfing, then back at home working away in her studio, between various errands and business meetings. She never sits still. Of course with this lifestyle, in Los Angeles, she is constantly in and out of her car. LA, being what it is, involves cars. Lots of cars. Cars full of all sorts of people. My friend, being very vivacious and gorgeous, attracts a lot of attention. Men are constantly trying to pull her over to get her their digits. Oh, and did I mention, Viva is super friendly. Too friendly I think. Anyhow, one day, she was in the bank. She was doing a transaction with the private teller. She felt his stare. You know the type of stare. Heavy and intense. The kind of stare that wills you to look their way.

Sensing the pressure of his gaze, she glanced over, and saw a striking blonde, tall athletic looking young man. Well-dressed, and definitely European. He flashed his pearly whites, and she was intrigued. But, being that she was in her gym clothes and a rush, she left the bank without looking back. When she turned the corner to the parking lot, there he was, with his confident smile. He said hello with an accent, and she was hooked. Conveniently, he was parked right next to her Range Rover, in a brand new, immaculate white Mercedes. Red flag #1. If it seems to perfect to be true, it probably is.

Of course he got her number.

The first text arrived within the hour. He asked her to meet him for breakfast the next day, followed by a rose emoji. She said she could meet after her morning run, but just for a quick coffee. But of course, that was no problem, since he had soccer practice that morning as well. How convenient.

She showed up in her “lady of the valley” attire, gym shorts and flip-flops. But, Viva’s one of those women who can make anything look sexy, and with her bronze complexion, she always looks extra radiant after a workout, never red and blotchy. As she entered the café, there he was seated in the corner at a table with a coffee. He flashed that Cheshire cat smile in her direction and she was hypnotized as she headed towards the table. On her placemat was placed a single red rose. It was almost too perfect. She smiled and thanked him, as she sat down.

They chatted, and he told her he was from Roumania, a former pro soccer player, now coaching soccer here in LA. He looked young to have retired, but soccer is a young sport anyway, so she bought it. The bill came, and of course he pulled out a Louis Vuitton wallet, cracking it open just enough to give her a peak at a stack of bills. He swiftly flipped out a 50 to throw on the check tray. She glanced away, not wanting to reveal that she had noticed. She was no gold digger. In fact, she was quite secure financially.

He continued to be the perfect gentleman, opening the door, walking her to her car, offering her a hand and a hug. She got into her car and rolled down the window. He told her he would see her soon , staring into her eyes, while touching her cheek gently with the back of his fingers. Such a charmer.

She was walking on air. It was very flattering to be wooed by such a gorgeous young athlete. He seemed to have it all, looks, intelligence, charm, and money. What harm could come of spending some time with him.

He texted within the hour. Like clockwork. Would she be free this week because he really enjoyed her company, and he couldn’t wait to see her again. She said yes. She would be working at her studio all week, and he was welcome to stop by. He would be there tomorrow morning, he said. She texted the address. Oh, did I mention that her studio is in her home? Yeah.

The doorbell rang. She checked her hair in the mirror before she ran down the stairs to get the door. She felt her heart beat a little bit faster than it should. There he stood. Dressed casually, but obviously wearing expensive clothing. He smiled and his blue eyes sparkled with promise as he offered her a bottle of wine as a gift. She invited him in, and he sauntered into the house as though he had been there before. He flopped down on her sofa. Red flag #2. If a guy (or girl) seems too comfortable on the first visit to your place, it probably means he or she does this kind of thing frequently. Just saying.

He suggested she open the wine since they both had the day free. She went into the kitchen and when she came out with two glasses, he had his perfect bare feet up on the ottoman, and was leaning deep into her sofa. He asked her to come sit next to him. She couldn’t resist. He gave her a sip of wine from his glass. She was all in now. They laughed and talked about Europe, since she had spent time there as a girl. Conversation was light and easy. He kept refilling her glass. He stroked her arm gently and pulled on her hand….asked her to show him the rest of the house. They went upstairs.

Once in her bedroom, they fell onto her giant bed and she knew there was no turning back now. He was so confident, and sensual. His athletic prowess was a perfect match for hers. It was intense and physical, so much so that they both passed out after.

A while later, as they laid in bed, he was sprawled out like he owned the place and she was cuddled up on his athletic chest. His phone was vibrating, but he ignored it. Suddenly, he checked the time and jumped up like there was a fire. He told her he was late for an appointment, and he went to her bathroom where she heard the shower running. He came out looking perfect again and kissed her on the forehead as he was on his way out. He told her he would text later on.

He didn’t text that evening. She waited, but really that had just met, so she didn’t feel any concern. He had a life, and he would call. Obviously, he was into her.

The next morning she got another text. He wanted to come by again. She told him she needed to check her schedule, but she definitely wanted to spend time with him again.

25 minutes later, there was a knock on her front door. Yes, he just showed up. Unannounced. Need I say, red flag #3?! Normally, she would be upset, but she really wanted to see him again, and she was still reeling from the hot sex. One could say her judgment was somewhat clouded. So, she welcomed him in. Again, he walked in like he owned the place, this time heading straight to the kitchen where he opened the fridge. She followed him and offered to make him some brunch. After eating French toast and having some champagne, he was ready for desert and they headed up to her room. She was dizzy with infatuation. His scent lingered on her sheets, in her hair and on her skin. He lounged around in her bed for a bit afterward, his tousled locks and sculpted glistening body gleaming like an adonis. Again the phone continued to vibrate intermittently. This time it was texts he was ignoring. At a certain point he grabbed the phone, went into the bathroom and she heard the shower turn on. She also heard him speaking in his native tongue, in an angry hushed tone. He emerged looking fresh and clean, and again kissed her softly, this time on the lips, and told her he would see her soon. But probably not until the next week, since some important work had come up. His soccer coaching was about to start up for the season.

The days passed and no text, no calls from him. She continued with her life and business. Halloween arrived, and after a few drinks that night, while giving out candy to neighborhood kids, she picked up her phone and texted him. She simply sent a message saying “Happy Halloween. Miss you xoxo”.

Ten minutes later, her phone rang. A female voice with a heavy accent asked her why she was texting this number?  Viva was so shocked, she didn’t respond at first. Again, the woman asked her, “why are you texting my boyfriend?”. Uh-Oh. Didn’t I tell you, when it seems to good to be true…go back and take note…red flag #1, red flag #2, and red flag #3?…

Yup. This woman wanted an explanation. My friend, being a very honest and direct type of person, told her the truth. Oh, I think she left out the sex part. I mean, she told her they got intimate, but I don’t think any details were given.

Turns out he was living with the woman for years. And, yes, that immaculate white Mercedes? Of course it was hers, not his. Those nice clothes he wore, she bought them. Now the picture is getting clearer, isn’t it?

The woman was livid, of course. She called back again, this time she told my friend, she wasn’t mad at her, in fact she was glad she found out the truth. She told her in a controlled, robotic voice that if she wanted the guy, he would now be available, since she was throwing him out the next morning. But, he would be homeless, and carless. Not sure about his wardrobe.

In any case, the point of this story is sort of a cautionary tale to all the single ladies out there. When you see a red flag, take note. Never let a pretty face mesmerize you into overlooking the obvious. Be careful of those seductive foreign accents. Watch out for guys who seem to comfortable too quick. Like they’ve been in your place before. This is because they have. Well, not your place, but you know what I mean.

My friend, well, she let it go, and actually laughed a lot about it with her friends. It could have turned out far worse. I mean, this is the perfect set up for a crime of passion, but fortunately, the player’s girl was onto his tricks and she just needed the last piece of evidence to kick him to the curb. Good riddance.

The funniest part is that this guy still texts my friend. Even though she has moved into a serious long-term relationship with a real man, and she has told him this. He’s just one of those guys. There are plenty. Consider yourself informed and warned.