(Author's note: I'm going to apologize in advance. This chapter is going to take it's time getting to anything sexual. If you enjoyed the premise of part 1 and want to see how the relationship between our protagonists develop, you'll enjoy this. If you're just here to crank one out, you may wanna find another story. I won't be offended.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE AT LEAST 18 YEARS OF AGE OR OLDER)
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It had been over three months since my encounter with Jenna.
The day after our "arrangement" had concluded I sent her a simple note via the contact email we'd exchanged messages through before, thanking her for a wonderful time and hoping we could do it again soon. I got no response.
A few weeks later, I sent another, saying that I'd be interested in arranging another session, if she were still interested, and offered to pay the same rate as last time even though money was a bit tight just then. Still no reply.
A week later, I sent a third message. Still nothing.
I decided to let it go. Obviously she'd decided it was a one and done deal, a quick way to earn money to buy her needed books, nothing more.
I was feeling, well, several things. Horny, of course, but also strangely lonely, which was unusual for me. I found myself missing her company, which was ridiculous, seeing as the very short time we'd actually spent together was really just a business arrangement, nothing more.
The panties she'd given me to take home had long since dried out despite my efforts to preserve her scent by sealing them in a Ziplock bag. Still, I kept them, and often found myself still sniffing them during my solo sessions, although the scent was all but completely faded.
Time passed. I carried on in my same old dull routines. Get up, go to work, come home, dinner, work out every other night, masturbate almost every night, go to sleep. Rinse and repeat.
Weekends were just as boring. Sleep late, putter around my small apartment, run errands, maybe hit the pool at the gym, watch TV or go to a movie. Then suddenly it was Monday again.
I'd lost all of my friends in the divorce seven years ago. Well that's not exactly true. What I'd actually lost was all of my wife's friends; I found out the hard way that they'd only considered me a "friend" by proxy.
But that's all a long, sad and ultimately boring backstory you probably don't really give a shit about, do you?
So let's skip ahead a bit.
I came home from work late one Friday evening to find my refrigerator empty of all but some ancient condiment bottles. Not much in the cupboard, either.
I decided to take a drive to a little diner not too far away. I hadn't been there in quite some time, but I remembered they had a pretty decent prime rib.
The place was moderately busy when I came in, but the wait wasn't long, and I soon found myself in a booth.
I was mindlessly scrolling through my phone when I heard the waitress approach. "Good evening, sir, what can I..."
Her voice halted suddenly, and I heard the sound of what turned out to be her order pad hitting the floor, landing near my foot. I bent down, picked it up, sat back up to hand it to her, and froze.
It was Jenna! Her face was frozen like a deer in the headlights.
I was pretty shocked myself, of course. I recalled her mentioning a waitressing job, but not specifically where.
A thousand thoughts ran through my brain all at once as to how I should handle this. Ultimately I decided to simply play it straight.
"You dropped your pad, miss," I said casually, extending my hand out to give it to her.
Life suddenly returned to her face, and she eventually composed herself enough to respond, "Oh, oh, yes, of course, th-thank you sir."
"No problem," I replied, giving no hint of anything other than just being another customer.
"What...what can I get you to start?" She asked, finding her professionalism again, "Coffee? Soda?"
"Just water, thank you. And I'm ready to order now if that's OK. I already know what I want."
"Yes, of course sir, what would you like?" She asked in the friendly tone every server in America practices to hopefully increase their tips.
I had to bite back hard on replying, "Well a fresh pair of panties to start," and instead just ordered my prime rib, medium rare, with some mashed potatoes and spinach as my sides.
From there we went through the familiar routine. She brought my food, I ate, she'd occasionally stop back to refill my water and ask if I needed anything, then move on to the other tables.
Finally, I asked for the check, and she returned with it shortly. "Was everything OK, sir?" She asked, ever the professional waitress.
"Everything was wonderful, thank you Jenna." Yes, I used her name on purpose, just to see her reaction.
Her professional smile suddenly cracked with surprise, and then I saw...a REAL smile. The one I remembered from before, when we were involved in a very different kind of customer / server relationship.
"I'm...I'm glad to hear that. Have a great evening, sir. Come see us again soon, ok?" She said, managing to put her waitress persona back on.
"I'm sure I will," I replied, and she simply turned and walked away.
I grinned to myself, shaking my head. "Small world," I thought, then shrugged. "I'll leave her a nice tip."
As I picked up the check to go pay, I noticed something odd, and turning it over, saw a post-it note stuck to the back. There was a message hand written on it.
"I get off at 10pm. Call me! PLEASE! - J" Below was a phone number.
I damn near dropped the thing. Instead, I pocketed the note and made my way up to the cashier.
I took one last look on my way out the door. Jenna was busy with other customers, but I thought I saw her glance my way. I gave a quick nod towards her, confirmed that she saw it, then simply left.
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A light drizzle had begun as I got into my car, and by the end of my short drive home it had become a steady rain.
I still had about two hours to wait until Jenna's shift ended, and I spent most of that time deep in thought.
She'd recognized me right away, that much I knew. What I wasn't sure of is whether I'd played it so cool she thought I didn't recognize her until I actually said her name. Didn't matter, I suppose, given the note she left me.
She wanted to talk. Why? Why had she ignored my emails all this time, only to give me her phone number at a chance meeting?
I honestly couldn't decide if I was angry or thrilled about this situation.