Jennifer sighed as she listlessly ran a damp rag across the scarred Formica counter for what seemed like the millionth time. It was hot, and the ceiling fan overhead did nothing to cut through the oppressive heat. She brushed a damp curl of blonde hair off her forehead and sighed again.
The graveyard shift sure is dead tonight, she thought to herself, and giggled at her own joke.
It was true; the hour was approaching three a.m.-too late for the drunks and too early for the farmers-and only one customer was in the joint. She grabbed the coffeepot off the burner and approached the old man sitting on the vinyl stool at the end of the counter. To her surprise and relief, the old guy declined a refill and got up to pay his shot.
Finally, the diner was empty and she could take her break. That was one of the advantages of working graves...the couple of hours between three and five a.m. when the restaurant was usually deserted. She normally used that time to get her short work done, filling salt shakers and replacing ketchup bottes at each booth. Tonight had been especially slow though, and the short work was already done. That meant a nice long break, and maybe something to eat if she could persuade Tommy, the cook, to whip her up a snack.
That shouldn't be hard, she thought.
Unless she was mistaken, Tommy had a little crush on her. He sure gave her the eye when ever she walked into the kitchen, and a couple of times when she'd had to use the stepstool to reach a can or box on a high shelf she could have sworn he was looking up her skirt.
Probably, got an eyeful too. After all, she never wore panties to work.
The management insisted that all the waitresses wear pantyhose under their short, tan skirts. Some of the waitresses-the older ladies especially, with their varicose veins, made worse by years spent on their feet-really needed the support, not to mention the coverage that pantyhose provided.
When she'd first started working here, a year or so back, she'd worn her regular panties along with pantyhose to work everyday. But after a week or so of struggling to pull up her clothes in the tiny bathroom stall, she'd ditched the panties and just worn hose. Another month, and she'd lighted on a new way to increase bathroom break efficiency and cut down on the saggy, elephantine ankles she got every time she pulled her hose down and back up. She'd taken a sharp pair of sewing scissors and carefully cut out the crotch of all her pantyhose. Now she never needed to take off her hose during a shift, and everything was so much easier. Including slipping a finger into her pussy on those rare occasions she was overcome with lust at work. Of course she was a good employee and always washed her hands thoroughly afterwards.
She had to admit to herself that since Tommy had started working here those lustful moments in the lavatory had grown more frequent. She'd often caught herself in the bathroom fantasizing about his broad shoulders and taut buttocks while she pleasured herself.
One of these nights, she mused to herself, she should really do something about him.
With a smile on her face, headed toward the kitchen.
Tommy was busy cleaning the grill when Jennifer sauntered through the swinging door and into the kitchen. He gave her a nod and a grin. Jennifer was by far his favorite waitress and not just because she concealed a hot little bod under the goofy getup the management called a uniform. She was one of the few waitresses who treated him like a person; who seemed genuinely interested in him. They often took their breaks together and she always took time to ask him about his activities and interests. There'd also been a few nights where she'd seemed interested in him in a different way; brushing up against his hip as she passed him in the kitchen, or flashing him a glimpse of her luscious DD breasts when she bent over to pick up an order. But, he'd also seen her flirt that way with customers, so maybe he was reading too much into it.
"Hey, Tommy," she said, leaning on the prep table near him and flaunting her ample cleavage.
"What looks good tonight?"
Besides you I mean, she thought to herself.
She wasn't really paying attention as he rattled off the specials for the evening. Instead she was devouring him with her eyes.
He really is delicious, she thought.
She could see part of a barbed-wire tattoo peeked out from beneath the sleeve of his tight, white T-shirt as it strained across his tanned, toned biceps. His stained apron stretched over his rock-hard abs, but unfortunately for her, covered his groin. Still, she had a great view of his muscled legs, clad in black work pants, and his tight ass! His ass was so sexy it was all she could do not to grab it whenever he passed her by.
"Uhm, Earth to Jenn," she heard him saying. "Were you listening to any of that, or was I just talking to myself?" he asked.
"Sure, Tommy," she lied. "I was listening."
"So what'ya want?"
You fucking my wet pussy, she said inside her head.
"I'll take a patty melt," she told him.
"Why do you even bother to ask what the specials are when you always get the same thing?"