It's the start of another boring, drawn out day of work. I pull into the parking lot, already knowing it's going to be a slow day. The weather is bad. It's raining and it's cold, and no one is going to want to get out in it. It also happened to be right after Christmas, so everyone is probably broke anyway. I get my pens together, check my make-up in the mirror one final time, then head inside. When I get there, I see we don't have many other servers here. That's good. It means I might actually make some money with the few tables we manage to bring in.
I say hello to the manager in charge—Mason. He's a younger man with flawless blond curls that sit perfectly on his well-groomed head. He's wearing that purple shirt again, the one he says he hates. He only says this because he likes to hear people tell him how good it looks on him. Mason is gay. It's obvious once you get to know him, and it makes you wonder how you missed it in the first place. He doesn't exactly hide it from anyone.
I clock in at one of the computers, then step around the corner to check the restaurant. There's only three tables, with a combined number of eight guests. I sigh. It's going to be a long night. I come back around the corner and check for silverware. I find that there is a lot of it. The morning servers didn't roll any before they left. That was good, as well. I'll have something to do all night. No one else will help me—they never do—but I enjoy rolling silverware.
I want to get out at a reasonable time tonight. For once, I have plans. I plan to sit in my quiet house and catch a movie. My husband will be at work, so I'll be alone all night. Who knows? Maybe I'll even get myself off a few times. I let that thought roll around in my head while I go to the linen closet for napkins so I can start on the silverware.
I don't dislike my job, but the restaurant isn't my favorite place to be. My coworkers tend to form cliques during the workday. I'm typically excluded. It isn't their faults. I'm not the most talkative person there is. I'm not good with small talk, and I don't do well with making new friends. This is why I only have a few close friends and a husband. I listen to them talk about their own plans for the night as I set up to roll silverware.
They're talking about leaving early to make it to some concert. It shouldn't be a problem, they think, with how slow it's been. No one asks me if I'm interested in going. That's fine. I would say no anyway. I close tonight, so I'm sure I'll be here too late to join them even if I didn't already have plans. I listen to their discussion anyway. It's not like I have anything else to do.
I start rolling the silverware. Flip, flip, roll. Flip, flip, roll. Over and over I do this until I have my first stack. It's a tower of six high, with rows of 6 going up. I take them out to the floor of the restaurant and look around. Only one table of guests has come in since I looked the last time, and it's not in my section. I sigh again, then go back to the back of the restaurant to continue rolling.
As I stand there, continuing the monotonous pattern—flip, flip, roll—I let my mind wander. I start to think about my plans for the night again. I already have the movie picked out, so there was nothing to consider there. I got to the idea of getting myself off again. I let my mind settle on that wonderful thought. What else am I doing, right?
I think first about if I'll use my vibrator or not. I'm thinking yes. The orgasms are always so much more intense with the vibrations added to them. Then I start to consider if I'll watch porn or not. Of course I will. I always do when I masturbate. I think about the kind of porn I'll be watching later that night. Lesbian porn is what I have been watching lately, but I'm feeling something different tonight. Maybe some double penetration is what I'll look in to? I think about the websites I'll be visiting, letting my mind wander far away as I continue rolling the silverware. I can feel myself start to get wet at the thought of touching myself, but I can't do anything now.
Suddenly, I'm brought out of my reverie. They're yelling at me that I have a table now. My eyes focus and I realize I've been staring through the window into the kitchen. I make eye contact with the kitchen manager, Aiden. I feel my face get hot. He's a very good looking man. He's only a little bit taller than I am, but he makes up for it in obvious strength. He works in the kitchen most of the time, so he's wearing a black chef coat and cap. His bright hazel eyes stand out against the dark color of his hair and uniform. He has the sleeves rolled up and I can see the muscles in his forearms flexing as he uses the tongs to flip something on the grill. I feel my womanhood quiver at the sight of those arms, wanting to run my own delicate fingers over them and feel every groove. I stop myself thinking these thoughts. I'm married, for Christ's sake. He smiles a crooked half smile and I feel that deep, warm pulse again. I look away quickly as I feel my face get hot. I hope he can't tell.
I go to greet my table. It's a young couple who look like they've been together for a while. With the things going through my mind, my first thought is whether the sex they will undoubtedly have later tonight will be any good. They place their orders and both get alcohol. I think now that they'll probably have freaky sex later. As I go back to the kitchen, I picture them in bed together. She's on top of him, riding his cock while he plays with her breasts and she moans. She climaxes and screams his name (I don't know his name, so I call him Jackson). I'm lost in my own head as I walk into the back.
When I realize where I am, I'm face to face with Aiden. He's come around from the kitchen to fill up his pitcher with water at the servers' station. He's holding it in one hand and those arm muscles are strained with the weight. I look at them and want to reach out to touch him. I can't, of course. He's my boss and I'm married... but looking at them is fine, I tell myself.
"Hey," he says. I feel a pulse between my legs again. My panties are becoming more soaked by the moment.
"Oh, hey," I say as casually as I can muster. I hope my face looks calm and collected. I definitely don't feel that way. Every fiber in me wants to wrap my legs around him and ride him with everyone watching.
"Margaret, right? You guys all look the same through the window," he comments with that half smile that makes me want to fuck him on the counter.
I start putting my order into the computer as we speak. Anything to get my mind off of slowly undoing the buttons on his coat so I can press myself against his bare skin. "Yeah, that's me," I say. My voice sounds higher than usual. I doubt he'll notice. We've never spoken before.
"Cool," he says with a small head nod as though he were storing the information. "Don't work too hard." He walks away. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I pause with the order to reevaluate where I'm standing. My pussy is throbbing between my legs and I can feel its wetness. I'll have to go to the bathroom soon. I put the order in and bring the drinks out to my table. No one else has walked in since I put the order in, so I go back to roll more silverware.
While I roll, I find myself catching glances into the kitchen. I can't focus anymore. Aiden is right in my line of sight, and I can't help but to watch him work. He's so commanding, yet so charming. I steal glances every once in a while. I look up as I pick up my stack of silverware, and we make eye contact. He raises an eyebrow curiously, and I turn away quickly. I hope he thinks I just happened to look up at the same time. I curse myself for being so obvious.
