Eye Candy - Zero Fat & Calorie Romance Story!

by Savvy Jones

Eye Candy has Zero Calories

Eye Candy has Zero Calories

Eye Candy - a story of the forbidden office romance!

by Savvy Jones


Tony Vespoli has always been the silver lining to my 9 to 5 cloud, the caffeine in my daily grind… my eye candy. Candy kept safely out of reach in a pantry down the hall in Services. What happens when the candy is brought down from the shelf, placed beside me in Sales, unwrapped, and paired with beer? I can’t even think about that right now - what am I going to wear!?

When you walk by a construction site do you feel violated when the boys throw a wolf whistle your way? In my deepest, darkest, I take such acclamations as compliments and I’m convinced I’ll feel dejected when the barking stops. Leveraging this basic truth, I know that I’m elevating and honouring a certain co-worker by gazing at his back-side every time he walks away from me. I’ll take a pay cut if they’ll just keep Tony in Project Management! Somehow my shrinking commissions don’t sting as much when Tony walks in smelling like a Tuscany and testosterone shake.

You know the story, I’m a professional and I would never do anything to jeopardize my professional standing. Tony is too young for me, end of story. I think he just got his license to drink and I’ve been holding up the bar at various corporate watering-holes for 9 years now. Could any good, any promotion, any real romantic relationship, come from this infatuation? My logical mind tells me no, my libido screams something else altogether. However, I learned a long time ago from a seasoned proletarian – not to dip one’s wick, (or feminine equivalent) in the company well. The advice didn’t mean much to me at the time, but now I find myself turning the words over and over in the tumbler of my conscience mind, replacing pronouns with proper names. “It isn’t wise for Savvy to get romantically involved with Tony”. Something in my deep subconscience knows this is good advice based on sound reasoning, but I continue to plead my case.

Hollywood press once scolded Julia Roberts for having numerous flings with her leading men. Her answer? A logical, “ if I were working in corporate America it would be natural for me to date the men I see everyday, wouldn’t it?”. Why yes, Julia, it would be perfectly natural. Now, can you explain away the age difference Tony and I have and the obvious lack of commonality we share, other than profession? While you’re at it can you do something with this little nag I have on my shoulder telling me that unless Tony and I get married, (probabilty around zero), there will be a break-up? After the break-up, one or both of us will be scorned. The scorned party will naturally make certain that all company employees are alerted to the opinion that the scorn-ee is a low-life, second class citizen posing as a competent employee. Personal attacks will ensue and co-workers will know if one of us has bad breath or can’t kiss without slobbering. This is not a win-win situation, but I temporarily squelch the nag with blinders and a gag and revel in the latest news.

“Savvy, looks like I’ll be going with you to Kansas. Let’s do ribs and beer on Thursday night, I know just the place from my days at Sprint.” Are you kidding me? Fattorrino is going to be alone with me in an alien city for 3 nights and 2 days. Either someone up there really likes me – or is setting me up for occupational suicide.

My suitcase looks as if it’s been packed by Laura Bush with Britney Spears acting as stylist. My goal is to earn the respect of our new client by day, and have Tony drooling over me by night. Strappy red sandals with 3 inch heels put the “Whoa” in business woman. I am a firm believer that in the corporate world a woman must use all of her giftings, and her femininity should not be kept under tight wraps, but an easily opened package. My long navy jacket with the little red pin-stripe - atop a silky, sheath tank and a pencil skirt

At the airport I spotted Tony in a crowd at 100 paces. Growing up my Dad would take me fishing in the rivers of Colorado, like all good vacationing Texans, and he gave me polarized glasses to help me better spot our swimming dinner. Dad could always see the fish long before I could and he’d point me in the right direction. “Don’t worry”, he told me, “before long you’ll really want to catch one and spotting them will get easier. You’ll get fish eyes!”. Wouldn’t Daddy be proud now?

The plane ride is a dream. Tony exudes rich spice mixed with shades of musk and under-tones of youth. His extra-virgin, olive skin serves as a divine artist’s palette for his achromatic pearly whites, his chocolate eyes and his heavy, pitch hair. This masterpiece keeps touching my leg when he talks. Dinner with Tony; “So, ya know Tracy in accounting? She digs me and she wants me to find another chick to have one of those ‘ménage- ah- trois’ with. She knows the rules and there’s no way she would tell my fiancé or anyone else around the office. So whaddya say?” Candy shouldn’t talk, it’s not natural. Candy should just sit there and look yummy. The obvious lesson here is to leave candy on the shelf where it belongs. In the future I will take my mentor’s advice and keep my wick to myself. And, I'll remember the timeless truths of my mother, candy has no nutritional value and too much of it will make you sick.


Ciao, Tony.


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