The Waiter

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: February 12, 2018

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Submitted: February 12, 2018

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THE WAITER

 

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

I was out with a couple of my friends, last Friday evening, referred to as girls’ night out. We decided on a nice Italian Restaurant in Philadelphia, Center City.

The waiter approaching our table, was every woman’s dream. Adonis, as one of my friends whispered before he got closer.

The waiter erected his presence in front of our table. He placed a menu down in front of each one of us.

“Thank you,” my supervisor, who is also the DON, broke the silent barrier.

“You’re welcome,” his smooth baritone voice, replied in return.

He looked around the circular white clothed table.

“Would any one of you ladies like an appetizer before your dinner is served?”

“The house salad, lite dressing please,” I spoke up.

My other three co-workers duplicated my order.

For a waiter, he smelled so invigorating.

The aroma of a man, especially if the scent is an aphrodisiac of any arresting kind, is a sure goner for me

“Is everything all right, ma’am?”

I had to clear my thoughts.

Picture me sitting down, and this handsome waiter standing in front of me, and remember I have not lifted my eyes to meet his. And the presented picture was very hard not to notice. I cleared my throat.

“I could help you with that.”

I instantly closed my eyes in shame.

Please tell me I did not just voice my thoughts.

Three pairs of eyes darted over in my direction for an explanation behind my outburst.

The waiter looked down at my seated attendance. Funny, because, his eyes strayed down my cleavage, and the sheer hip-hugging black dress I had on, and drooping bust line was doing this Haitian sista’s body, fierce justice.

“Could I take your orgy...now?” The waiter shook his head. “I mean can I take your order now.”

“Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll have enough here to go around.”

The waiter looked around the table.

Each one of my co-workers flashed the waiter a flirtatious smile.

“I’m sure I would.”

“Yes, could you bring me something long and wet, to parch my throat.”

The waiter smiled at my request.

A set of pearly whites was on his menu. He palmed his goatee down.

“Anything specific.”

“A Sex on the Beach.”

“Have you ever been to Jamaica? I heard the sand there is fit for a queen.”

“I have my Passport ready to go.”

Three pairs of eyes, was waiting for the next spoken word.

“Would any one of you beautiful ladies like to join in?”

“Three and more is definitely a crowd.”

The waiter looked back down at my bust line, and the swell of my nipples were not backing down. At the moment, this conversation was very uplifting from my standpoint, well at least his point, and no flexibility in sight.

“Back to that Sex on a Beach, would you like anything else with that, beautiful.”

I pretended to act coy, by glancing down at my menu, my peripheral vision, locked in on nothing but a harden future fantasy, sweet mercy, I love the physique of mankind.

“No I’m satisfied, for now.”

The waiter leaned downward, closer to my ear and whispered, “You will be, I get off at nine.”

“I will be around.”

The waiter straightened his posture. His eyes glanced back around our table.

“Oh, the drinks are on the house, in regards to the Super Bowl win.”

“I love the city of Brotherly Love.”

“Yes, on the verge of getting some sisterly affection later.”

“I will never decline an invitation with so many possibilities.”

“Would you like the Beef Wellington?”

“I’m sorry, I’m a Vegetarian.”

“Don’t be sorry, I happen to have a weakness for a woman who is selective about what goes in her body, sexy.”

Light me up like a Christmas tree I thought. This handsome waiter was bringing it, and bringing it non-stop.

His black marble-colored eyes, olive-skin tone complexion, wavy high sheen hair; banded at the nape of his neck, pinned my existence.

I nervously licked by lips, out of habit when I’m nervous.

“A pleasure for me I suppose.”

From my lips to your dick I wanted to say.

I blushed with no shame.

One of my co-workers cleared her throat.

“I’m hungry Kee.”

I looked at the waiter’s groin; hey I was in the moment.

“Yeah so am I,” floated out my mouth.

“You are the only woman here who gets fed by me personally.” He looked down at my lips. “I’m really feeling a woman who is choosy about the meat she tends to allow to escape pass those succulent lips.”

Am I on some form of a reality show? Am I getting punked here?

If I had known this handsome Italian Stallion was waiting for my presence in an intimate restaurant. I would never have hopped on my treadmill, or posted on Booksie. I would had come here alone, and left my friends wasting without conscious.

“Beautiful, I will be back with that order. Later on, I will show you how to really enjoy the fruit of your labor from off mine.”

The waiter arrogantly strolled away from our table. He looked back and winked at me.

My thong was more satisfied than me.

My three friends looked over at me and just shook their head at my brazenness.

“Kee, you’re going to need CPR much later on.”’

“As long as his mouth, resuscitates both holes, I’m all good.”

“TMI.”

We all laughed.


© Copyright 2018 Kemy2U. All rights reserved.

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