It was a black tie affair and the wait staff had been asked to dress in black on black. She was nervous.
She didn't have much experience waitressing let alone with silver service. In any event she was excited to have this opportunity and better still, a night away from family responsibilities. Her matching bra and panties gave her a secret confidence boost. She had also chosen a tight button down shirt. She might have been a rookie, but knew intuitively that boobs equal bigger tips. A form fitting black skirt, smart low heels, and flesh colored tights completed the look.
Upon arrival she took off her coat and stood waiting to be called, with face flushed and heart racing. If she did well, this is useful money and could lead to more work. She composed herself taking several deep breaths. Noticing her nervousness, the maitre d' pulled her to one side and reassured her that she would do just fine. Seeing that she was still shaking he relayed his favourite trick."Each course is more and more tricky, every time that you serve take a small shot of liquor and as the evening passes you will feel more and more confident and relaxed. When you feel comfortable, stop".
Not one to turn down liquor she pours herself a large glass and takes a swig before heading towards the kitchen to grab the soup course. Checking herself in the mirror, she's pleased at her reflection. The outfit shows her fine figure. Black skirt hugging her ass, black bra pushes her breasts up in a pleasant, classy manner. Checking the mirror one final time, dark hair-check, red lips- check, nervous smile- check. What the hell? She undoes a button. Why not flaunt it a little?
Grabbing two dishes, one cradled in the nook of her arm the other in her hand she heads towards the dining room and her designated table, dishes teetering. Wishing that she had paid more attention on how to carry rather than her appearance, she weaves her way through tables and guests. Narrowly avoiding a collision with a guest who clearly had drunk too readily at the reception and was now telling a very animated story. She caught an elbow, knocking her slightly off kilter. She regained her composure as she approached the table. Trying not to stare at the elegantly dressed guests she became conscious of her own overly displayed bosom.
She heard him before she saw him, his accent drawing her attention. Scanning the table trying to pinpoint whose voice it was that caused goosebumps to rise. She waited until she heard the accent again, Australian? No..English, yes English she locked on. A red headed gentleman with a neatly trimmed beard was the source of the voice. He looked as sexy as he sounded in his tux.
Floundering for something to say to this exquisite man, as she yearned to draw his attention, all she could come up with was "Would you like more water"? The guest, barely noticing her, rapt in conversation gave a polite nod. She was determined to catch his eye as the night progressed.
She set the dishes down, the clatter of plates momentarily disturbing the crowd. Losing her concentration she dropped a bowl. She watched the soup, as if in slow motion, slosh over the edges of the bowl and land sweetly on the guests lap. She braced herself for an inevitable berating.
