So when I applied to be a fitness instructor, I didn't expect for the guy I'm applying to work for to be so damn good looking. Or tired. In fact, he looked so tired that I guessed it was taking every ounce of his strength to not slump to sleep on his desk. Late night partying? Or late night working? I wondered which.
"So Chrissie...you don't mind if I call you Chrissie right?"
"No, that's fine."
"Great. Chrissie, why do you want this job?"
Let me count the ways gorgeous.
"I've always liked fitness, and so turning it in to a job seemed the best thing to do."
"What sort of fitness do you do?"
"Well, I run every morning, I dance three times a week, I do karate and tai chi. And I can instruct on all fitness equiptment you have here."
"Very good. It says here you speak Spanish?"
"Sí, hablo español con soltura."
"And what does that mean?"
"It means 'yes I speak fluent spanish'."
"That's impressive. Are you part spanish?"
"Yes. On my mother's side."
"Nice. Well I think you have the job Chrissie. I just need to have you on a week trial, paid of course."
"That's fine, thank you very much Mr Cross."
"Jamie, call me Jamie."
"Thank Jamie." I grinned at him. I could tell we were going to get on. He seemed nice, and I especially loved the fact he hadn't eyed me up like most of the bosses I had been interviewed for. I shook his hand and he began discussing what my job would entail.