SEXUAL ENHANCEMENT

As a personal assistant, I was always an updated source of information.  The hottest restaurants, the best gift ideas, the car dealerships with the quickest valet service. 

But it's been two years.  People can't seriously think I'm at the forefront of that kind of knowledge anymore, can they?  I've retired from that life and style and now live in a bucolic, hot little town in the middle of the San Joaquin Valley.

Yesterday I was preparing one of my income properties for rental.  I was doing the final walk-through before it was to be cleaned and occupied.  It was blazing hot, pushing 100 degrees, the a/c was pumping and I was making a list of the last few touch ups. 

My phone rang.

"Shelly" from LA was calling.  Shelly who was named so in my book.  Wanting info.  After our greetings and niceties she quickly cut to the question.  "Hey girl, do you know of a trusted doctor you could recommend to me?"

Uh, yeah.

The "trusted" part of was emphasized.

"For what?" I wanted to know.

"One that would prescribe male sexual enhancement drugs," she spit out. 

I could tell that she was at work.  There was a formality in her voice I've heard many a time before.  The type that subtly told me other people were listening in.  But knowing what type of work she does (real estate) and with whom she works, this topic of conversation was straight up odd.   Sexual enhancement drugs?

"Legit ones?" I inquired.  "Like Viagra or something else?"

I'd had a very interesting experience with Viagra when a client was overseas and wanted me to pick up his prescription of it, scrape the V off the little blue pills and Fed Ex them to him in Italy masquarading as Flumadine.  I don't know if you've every shipped prescription meds overseas but you have to state the type of drug it is.  In fact, I don't think you can even do that anymore.  But as a PA I've done many naughty things one is not supposed to do but I did anyway.  All in a day's work.

"Not Viagra, it's........" and Shelly proceeded to name some pill of which I had never heard.

It was at that moment that I realized I'm no longer on top of the types of things I used to be.  I'm finally an ex-assistant.

"Since it's obviously not for you, why doesn't this guy just go to his doctor and ask for the pills himself?"

"It's a male ego slash embarrassment issue," she said, still with that tone that I was increasingly not understanding.  She was obviously at work but talking freely yet guarded.  Hmmmmm.

"Well my General Practitioner is just down the road from you and Mickey Fine Pharmacy is downstairs.  You can make an appointment for him there," I offered.

"I couldn't just call it in?" she asked?

"Uh, no!  This fella would have to make an appointment, tell Doc what the problem is, probably have to get a full physical.  It just seems like it would be better to get over his embarrassment and tell his own doctor."

Why are men so afraid of the doctor?  If they can't perform up to the usual standards they NEED to see a doctor.  This is just not a source of embarrassment for me, so I can't wrap my mind around the shyness part.

In fact, because my 50+ clients were always on the front pages, and they sure as hell were not going to be caught dead at the porno store or picking up their prescriptions to rid themselves of the disease of the week, I was the one doing it.  The poor pharmacy we all went to probably thought I was one of the freakiest girls in LA. I was the one who in the span of a week was picking up Viagra, birth control pills, pregnancy test kits and Herpes meds. I can guarantee someone wanted to tell me that it just might be better if I kept my legs closed!!!  And I did it with a straight face.

Additionally, I was the one picking out the edible underwear, blow-up dolls, the dildo and the amazing array of vibrators, again without mumbling the self-incriminating line of, "They're for someone else."  Uh-huh.  Right.

Wasn't much of a help to Shelly I'm afraid.

I admit, I did want to ask who the big wussy was.  Who would put Shelly up to asking such a nutty question.  I hope he, whoever he is, paid her sweetly to do his bidding.

Maybe when I trot back down to LA I can take her out for drinks and get the truth out of her and then again, maybe I can't.

We'll see.