I'm Denise, forty-one, divorced with three kids at home. I live with my mom. My life has not been very exciting. I haven't dated anyone and have no social life. I have a few friends, but they are in the same rut as I am.
I work as a waitress in an all-night diner. It pays good and serves the usual drunks and late-night workers. The customers are nearly all men. Some flirt harmlessly. Some are obnoxious, making lewd comments. Some guys want to talk to someone; they're lonely or frustrated.
There was this one guy who came in a couple of times a week with a friend. They were both businessmen and were very polite. I knew their regular order, coffee and a breakfast with an omelet and bacon. Then, only one of the guys continued to come in at night. I had learned his name was Frank. His friend was a business associate who had been let go by their company. Frank was afraid he would be next. He was one of the ones who liked to talk a lot. He was separated from his wife. She had moved in with a woman in another state and taken their two kids. Frank was always very nice. He'd leave a nice 25% tip. He was one of the guys I looked forward to seeing. Talking to him was interesting and he listened to my troubles too.
One night, I leaned over to get something off the table in his booth and I noticed that he was looking down the top of my uniform blouse. I wore a tan skirt with a white buttoned blouse. Some of the blouses were a little big for me and would fall open, giving a view down my chest. I wore a bra, but most guys liked to look at the top of my breasts. I looked at Frank and he said, "Sorry. It's been a long time."
I laughed and smiled at him. "For me too." I said.
I began to notice that he was checking me out. He'd look at my ass when I was serving or bending over the other booths. I kind of liked it and would bend over a little more often than necessary to arrange things on the booth near where Frank sat. My skirts came to just above my knees which would give him a view of my legs. Sometimes when it was not crowded, I would sit in the booth across from him and cross my legs to give him a better view. My skirt would ride up to mid-thigh. I also began to leave another button undone on nights when Frank came in. As a result, he started to come in every night.
One night, he said, "Denise, I don't want to be out of line, but would you like to have dinner with me or something." I said, "Maybe. I have to work here six nights a week and I have three kids. There's not much time for social life."
I realized that I had given him a brush-off answer. He didn't come in for a week after that and I thought I'd scared him away. When he came in a week later, I walked over and said to him, "Frank, I would like to go out with you. I gave you a shitty answer the other night. I'm sorry. I would like to go out with you." He laughed and nodded.
Going out to dinner didn't work with our schedules and he was eating dinner at the restaurant anyway. Things kept getting in the way so after a few weeks, I thought I should be a little more forward. I started flirting with him and we got into a routine where I would lean over his table and let him look down my blouse.