I was standing at the grill sweating a little over the flames. It was only a Wednesday night, so we weren't super busy. It was just hot as hell. I only had a filet on and a piece of salmon. It was also the beginning of the night and Chef wasn't even there. He was doing some guest spot on Top Kitchen or whatever other dumb fuck cooking show shoved down the public's throat. They never really showed how it actually went in professional kitchens. They were all catered for Susie Homemaker, and Chef never showed his real self on tv.
Instead, it was Jean running the kitchen tonight. This awesome older lady, who had been the sous-chef in this restaurant since it opened. She was, to put it mildly, a badass. If you gave her shit, or even suggested she couldn't hack it because of her age. She would take you to the mat and you'd learn your place in a heartbeat. Tonight was going to be a good night, I could feel it.
I was in my mid-twenties, a little heavier than most of the chefs in the industry because of my never fucking developing a drug habit. I wasn't fat by any means, just a little of early onset dad bod syndrome, and it was only my gut. Dark brown hair that was long enough to go a bit past my ears and combed in the middle. The same way I've been wearing my hair since early 2000s highschool. I even have the bit of chin hair in my desperate attempt to not look like a twelve-year-old.
"Come on Simon, I need the fucking salmon!" I heard Jean yell at me, and I snapped out of my daze. "Jesus Christ, look at this fucking kid, back here like he's Ralphie in a fucking A Christmas Story. Come on, get your fucking BB gun later, let's go."
I looked up to her and grinned as the kitchen laughed at me. It was alright. I knew she was fucking around, probably, maybe. She had a little grin on her face when I looked up to her and I nodded my head.
"Yes, chef! Coming in 30!" I called up to her and poked the salmon making sure it was ready. When I was sure it was, I grabbed the fish with my tongs and set it on a small plate. Setting the tongs down I moved up to Jean at the pass along with the chef from the garnish station. He had all the sides for the dish and the sauce. Setting the plate in front of her I nodded my head and made my way back to my station.
"Simon," was all I heard, making me turn my head to see who was calling my name. There she was. A stunning little red head that wore glasses a little too big for her face, a cute little nose and full thick lips that invaded my dreams pretty regularly. She did her hair up in a messy little bun and she bangs.
I grinned looking at her, taking in her body, "Maisy." She was wearing the typical server uniform of black pants and a white button-up shirt with a black silk vest that fit very tightly on Maisy. Maisy was very chesty, and I thought she purposely wore her vest too tight the way she spilled from it. Not that she showed any cleavage with the button-up shirt, but her breasts were definitely more noticeable than some of the other servers'. Then there was the backside of Maisy, Christ. To hear her talk about it she didn't have a butt, but the way those pants the servers wore hung to it.
I had to shake myself free now from the daydreaming. It was still dinner service, and he was half chub just thinking of Maisy naked, exposed body, and I hadn't ever even seen it. I moved closer to her looking down in her eyes and cupped her cheek in my hand. A second before giving her a wink and trotted back off to his station before Jean started yelling about the filet he also had cooking. He was thankful for the baggy hounds tooth pants he wore and an apron right then.
That moment looking down into her eyes, her greens looking up to my hazels with that slight pouty look that drove me wild. This was a game they played, often, too often for my liking. I had Sarah, who had just started dating, and she was another part-time server here. We weren't super serious yet, but I could see long-term things happening with her. Maisy just, ugh....
"Simon, what the fuck is with you tonight! Get the fucking filet up here!" I heard Jean yell again as I had gotten back to the grill.
"Fuck," I mumbled to myself and poked the filet. It was over, it had to be unless the customer was a sociopath. I checked the ticket and holy shit, the steak was ordered well done. Fucking saved by old folks loving their beef jerky.
"Stop thinking with your dick Simon. You and the hottie little waitress can make googly eyes on your own fucking time." Jean berated me a little more than I moved the filet to a transfer plate once more and started walking it up.
"Christ, thank fuck. Now get back to your station and get your head back in the fucking game," Jean pointed to the grill, and I walked back sheepishly.
"Bro, you okay?" I heard the saucier next to me ask me. It was Leon, an excellent chef, and a kick ass dude. Since he worked next to me, we'd often bail each other out of the weeds when we needed it. He had a few pots of stuff going but looked in control of everything.
I nodded my head and looked over to him and grinned "Yeah man, I'm good."
Leon eyed me suspiciously, he had short blond hair and a bit of a rat face. He had one of those epic 70s porn staches which I loved to rag on him about. He was also built, all the guy did was workout and work.
I jumped up and down a moment shaking it off and forgetting about Maisy and Sarah and everything else in my head. It was service time, and I wouldn't ever make it to the top if I was dreaming about an epicly hot three-way where they laid on top of each other. They'd have their butts facing me giving me a wildly delicious buffet of things to lick and fuck.