Thank God for Aprons

“Waiter what would you recommend? The swordfish or the tuna?” the redhead on table twenty three asks me.

“The swordfish is excellent tonight,” I offer.

“How thick is the swordfish?” Red asks looking up.

Our eyes meet. There’s a spark of electricity between us. We both like what we see.

I measure a space three quarters of an inch between my thumb and forefinger. “About that thick madam,” I say.

Smiling broadly, Red mimics my gesture, “Anything a little thicker?” she says playfully.

“I can ask the kitchen,” I reply grinning.

“And how big is the filet?” Red asks, her voice dropping an octave.

“Madam?”

“Is it this big?” she says, measuring a space between her two hands.

“Oh it’s bigger,” I say making the same movement – but wider.

“Really?” Red says delightedly.

God I love when this happens.

“Really,” I say.

“I like it big,” Red says.

“I believe it will be enough to satisfy you madam.”

Never taking her eyes off me Red purrs, “I’m sure it will.”

Red’s companions, including her husband, are oblivious to the subtext of our culinary discussion.

“Then swordfish it is,” I say.

Order in hand I go over to the POS computer. As I’m entering the entrees Red gets up and walks towards me.

I look at her. She looks at me. She smiles. I smile back.

Now beautiful women in my business are a dime a dozen. But Red is different. She has something. A quality that is rare and wonderful.

Red has smolder.

“I’m know I’m going to like the swordfish,” Red whispers as she wiggles past me on her way to the ladies room.

A palpable heat radiates off of her. I’m afraid loose paper objects might spontaneously combust.

“Indeed you will,” I reply.

Wow.

A short while later I deliver the order and the table tucks into it with gusto. After an appropriate interval I return and ask how everything is.

“Great, great,” Red’s husband says between mouthfuls.

“And Madam how is your swordfish?” I ask.

Red spears a small piece of fish and brings it too her mouth. Lips closing around the fork she looks up at me. Sliding the utensil out languorously – she smiles.

I wait for her to swallow.

“Delicious,” she replies huskily.

Goddamn. I love this job.

“I’m glad you like it,” I say

Red is married. Nothing will happen. But there’s no law against looking at the menu is there?

“So good,” Red says winking. I feel like I need a cigarette.

“Waiter, can I get a martini?” another table beckons interrupting my fun.

“Right away sir,” I say reluctantly.

Departing the table to fetch the man’s drink I transmit a “high five” to the Creator for making women like Red.

But as I’m walk the length of the restaurant towards the bar I become aware I’m should be grateful for something else.

I utter a silent prayer…..

Thank God I’m wearing an apron.


Comments

Thank God for Aprons — 26 Comments

  1. “Smoldering” Wow, who “wouldn’t” love that comment about themselves if you’re a female. Waiter, you have just described to me, what I’d love to be. “That sexy, hot, smoldering woman” who flirts like crazy and isn’t shy about it. Oh man, too bad she was married. Yes, thank goodness you had an apron LMAO. Girls don’t show their excitement physically but I bet that hubby got good sex ;)

    I’ve actually got a little blurb on my webpage about how flirting is good for a marriage. Believe me, I try to flirt a bit. It’s fun and hubby always appreciates it because it does mean better sex LMAO!!!!

  2. Yes, the apron is a wonderful tool. At one restaurant, I wore a white apron with no pockets on the front. It showed details. Although, that usually helped with tips. Made women not so horrible tippers. Flirting is good! The job sucks enough…you gotta work it somehow.

  3. My apron, coupled with my server book in the center pouch, saves me from my 3 mandatory shift boners nearly every day.

  4. Pingback: Cialis.

  5. Wonderful hot story. Great writing. You sure get the subtexts just right. Love your attitude towards women & flirting.

  6. Lmao. That’s one of the reasons I loved this type of work. And the aprons were a godsend for that reason alone!

  7. Very well written. I like your writing style that makes it seem like we’re experiencing it with you.

    Also think it’s ironically funny that there’s a Cialis spammer comment on this post!

  8. ….i used to work with another waiter who would come back to the service station and tell us he had ‘one of those tables’ – his method of coping with tables that were awful to him was to unzip, take his member out, and then walk back to the table with a big fucking smile on his face – he would get as close as he could to them – we’d been in the service station just dying – and if you were on the floor as well at the time he’d go to move his apron to the side and you knew just to look away as fast as you could.

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