It is also the kind of place a friendly middle-aged man like myself can enjoy working. The cafe or diner is a young man’s game and not the place to practice the skills I have developed over many years as a waiter. I love my food and enjoy cooking. I would have been a chef except that I never had the chance when I was younger to learn. So I chose to be around food as a waiter, learning how things are cooked, matching wine to foods, helping people to enjoy the whole experience rather than just filling the gap. This was the perfect place for me to work and my boss wanted the same things as I did. It was a happy fit and I was there to stay. I didn’t want a promotion and didn’t want to be a manager of other waiters. I was also allowed to eat my dinner there each night and the chef usually allowed me to take home food which meant my living expenses were very few.
Most often the customers to our restaurant matched what we were providing: young couples who had saved money for a romantic night out, business people taking their time over a meal to close a deal, customers who came regularly for the great food and service, and some regulars, both single and in pairs whom I got to know over the years. The clientele changed every night just like the daily specials and it served to make it a vibrant place to work.
This particular evening a couple walked into the restaurant and for some reason my attention was drawn to them. Actually, my attention was drawn to her as I barely noticed the man she was with. Somehow this woman lit up the darkened room with her presence. Her immaculate, straight red hair shone and glistened as she moved. But then I saw her smile. She seemed to smile with her whole body. It was radiant and sexy. Her perfect teeth were framed by lips painted in lipstick to match her hair. Her eyes were mysterious and seemed to take in all the attention she received when she made her entrance. She knew the effect she had on her audience and without even a hint of arrogance, her eyes seemed to say,”Thank you for noticing me”.
Her way of thanking us was via the clothes she was wearing. Her top was red. It could hardly be any other colour. It fell off her shoulders exposing ivory white skin. The front of the shirt caved in, inviting the eyes to a secretive cleavage that was present but hidden beneath the folds of red. There was little evidence of subtlety though about the black miniskirt and heels she was wearing. Although she was not very tall, her legs were made to look very long through impossible black heels which crafted the most delightful shape into her calves. As my eyes looked further north I could take in all of her ladylike, yet muscled thighs, the tops of which were only just hidden by her skirt. The skirt did two things perfectly. It left you aching to see the tops of thighs and that special place where legs became very personal, and it framed her arse magnificently. Somehow her whole body was perfectly packaged to maximise her beauty and maintain her dignity and status as a classy lady.
The gentleman at the table where I was serving had to repeat his order twice as I was distracted for what felt like minutes. I apologised and went to the kitchen hoping and praying that the woman in red would be in my area of the restaurant and I could become more acquainted with that pure white skin.
I walked to their table with menus and water in hand trying as hard as I could to focus on her partner rather than her radiant smile. I introduced myself to him and welcomed him to the establishment.
“Is this your first time here, sir?”
“Yes it is. We were looking for somewhere special for one of our date nights. A friend is looking after the children and we have a rare night out together.”
“Well, I will be looking after you this evening and if there is anything I can do to make your night more special then please ask.”
“Why thank you, Andrew. I’m sure we will call on you for something,” she said.
Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she spoke and she laughed with her husband. I am not sure how I remained standing as my legs were like jelly. Her accent was slow and southern but very, very sexy. I averted my eyes, excused myself and left to the safety of the kitchen to wipe my brow.
I looked after my other customers on this busy evening and tried to leave the lady in red in peace, as much for her benefit as for mine. They were in no hurry and spent time holding hands, leaning over the table to kiss and at times his hands disappeared from the table, no doubt to take in some of the exposed skin from ankle to hem line.
She called me over with a subtle wave of her hand. For the first time I went to her side of the table where she was sitting back a little. I noticed two things immediately as if I were meant to notice them. Firstly the skirt had inched its way up her thighs. Although her legs were held together, there must have been a hint of panties showing if there was enough light. Her carefully shaved and oiled skin made me want to hold and caress her thighs.
The second thing to notice was that her top had now bunched forward and low enough to see a deep cleavage shaped by a very sexy bra. She held the menu right in front of her top giving me the opportunity to stare shamelessly at the collection of freckles all around her lacy bra, whilst she pointed to items on the menu. She looked up at me and caught me staring but carried on with her questions and comments. It was obvious that she didn’t mind being admired. Perhaps it would be different if she knew that I wasn’t just admiring but rather devouring her breasts much as would the half dozen oysters with lime juice on the menu.
The evening wore on without any further opportunity to dwell on the beauty sitting in the corner with her husband. She rose once or twice to go to the bathroom and captured the attention of everyone in the room as she did so. She just had that indefinable something that attracted attention.
When she returned from the bathroom they asked for dessert menus. I brought them over and topped up their wine glasses which had now held nearly a bottle each of wine. On handing her the menu I refolded the napkin from the table and placed it in her lap. As I bent down my eyes were looking directly at her pink uncovered nipples and the flesh of her breast. I must have stopped moving for a moment as she gently touched my hand and thanked me for the napkin. All I could do was smile and shrug my shoulders as it was impossible to pretend I wasn’t staring. She met my smile and began a conversation.
We talked about the restaurant and how long I had worked here. It was the usual chatter that customers make except that this time my client was showing herself off to me. She moved around and laughed when I made a joke. Her breasts bounced inside the shirt that barely held them in. The movement only caused her nipples to rub on the fabric and become hard and very visible through the red silky fabric. Her hand went inside the dress ever so subtly moving the fabric off her shoulder just a little further.
To anyone sitting at another table there was nothing to see as the front of the shirt was gathered in the front covering everything. However standing above her was spectacular! We were now talking about football and her favourite team as her husband sat back quietly and enjoyed his wife showing off and teasing. As she sat back in her chair with the glass of wine her legs came into view. She crossed her legs to show me the ripple of muscle that ran from the top of her knee to the cheeks of her arse which was now visible from the side. I had given up pretending not to look and decided to play their game. It was obvious that their date night included this show and I was a very enthusiastic participant in their foreplay. It must have led to great sex afterwards as they relived the highlights of showing off and flirting while fucking each other over and over again.
They were the last of my customers remaining and they had my complete attention should they have needed it. As I served the coffee she opened her legs ever so slightly and she revealed that the bra was not the only item of underwear that she had removed during the evening. Not that I could see very much – she was not trying to be sluttish in her exhibitionism, rather she was allowing me to see only what she wanted me to see. I was looking for a hint of black panties above the hem of the dress. Instead the dress had come far enough up for me to see only skin where her thighs came together.
Between her legs was as cleanly and smoothly shaven as her thighs. The conversation stopped altogether as she took a deep breath and ran her hand from her knee up the side of her thigh. Her fingernail tugged gently at the hem of the skirt to lift it another half inch. Her legs quivered slightly, as did mine as I followed her finger up that beautiful trail. Her other hand brought her white wine to her mouth and she drank deeply from her glass. Replacing the glass on the table she took the wetness on her fingers from the condensation from the wine glass and placed her finger between her breasts. She made a slippery trail from side to side, opening the front of her dress a little more each time. Her nipples were so hard and pointy they were screaming out to be touched and kissed and bitten.
She was not looking at me at all now but at her husband. They were making love silently and without touching each other and I was their prop. Without me it would not have been the same for them. They were performers on a stage and needed an audience. This was the climax of their evening as she continued to perform for him completely unaware of the intrusive eyes of the audience. She never exposed too much and never played sexually with herself. But her fingers moved down and across the front of her dress. Her thighs shifted ever so gently in her chair revealing more of the smooth join at the top of her legs.
She must have been so wet between her legs, sitting there without underwear, teasing me and showing off to a complete stranger. I wondered if it was possible for a woman to have an orgasm just by moving her thighs together in the chair as she was doing now. Her skirt was so far up the from of her legs that I could now see the tan line of what would have been a very tiny bikini. Above the line was a change of colour revealing skin touched by sun without tanning, as this delicate skin would never brown. Below the line was pure white and now as she moved again I could see the top of her lips. Perfect joins of skin moving down to her wet hidden pleasure. The whole area was hairless and delicate. The aromas now of food, perspiration and now sex began to invade the senses.
It was this sudden whiff intimacy that brought the show to a climax. This was the end of the performance where the audience came to life and applauded and the actors were jolted from the privacy of the stage to accept the adulation. It brought a standing ovation from me which was fortunately covered by an apron and a well-placed notebook. They looked at each other and gave the signal that the foreplay had ended.
After a few moments to compose ourselves, he paid the bill and thanked me for the wonderful service. The tip was generous but worth much less than the show I had witnessed. I thanked him using the first name from his credit card and he replied using mine from my earlier introduction. As I offered my hand to say farewell to her she took it and pulled me to her to offer a kiss. As she kissed my cheek she whispered: “Just call me B”.
They turned and left, smiling, laughing and ready to continue their night of passion.