I remember well the night that I first met Carrie - It was a Friday night and I was on a business trip at a hotel. She was my waitress, and apart from being very friendly she was absolutely gorgeous. She has very dark hair, a beautiful delicate face with sharp inquisitive eyes that contrast her softer features. There was nothing electrical or even out of the ordinary, however - she simply brought me my coffee and a piece of cheesecake, smiling. I would look up from my work to watch her with the other customers - fending off advances from half-drunk businessmen trying to escape their wives, sighing slightly when she got a bad tip. 'She's cute as hell' I thought to myself when I watched her pouring drinks and talking with the barman - apparently friendly enough with him but not flirty. I went over more boring info about what kinds of makeup compliment Asian skin tones the best, what the newest trendy diets were and whether they actually helped or harmed your body - sipping my tea and half paying attention to my work, half to Carrie.
The restaurant began to wind down, and soon I was one of only 2 tables left. I was polite however, and didn't ask that she refill my cup when she was busy or take offense when I was neglected for an extended period of time. Eventually the last customer left, and to my surprise Carrie came over to my table and plopped down, exhausted. She carried with her a big wad of cash and several credit-card receipts.
"Mind if I do my cash-out here?" she asked, looking worn.
"Not at all, it looks like you had a busy night," I replied. "I'm Ariele by the way. Do well with tips?" I never fully understood the whole American culture of tipping, but I knew enough to be aware that people from foreign countries often don't tip nearly as much as the server should receive, based on their meager wages.
"Not too bad," she answered, "I'm dying to get out of here though. Been one of those days."
I looked up at her, directly in the face and was a little embarrassed when she looked straight back into my eyes, smiling. Then it happened - she saw one of my personal columns I had written earlier - my 'weekly lesbian lesson'.
Her face flushed a little but she moved her eyes quickly from the article back to me. I felt a little exposed with the way she took me in. I'm 5'5", 105 lbs and Asian. 30-b breasts, and not a lot of curves, but very slim and I've often been told I'm very pretty, whether I choose to believe it or not. I could feel her eyes gliding over my body - it wasn't perversely sexual or obvious, just a glance that lingered longer than usual.
"I wish you had been on the floor with me tonight, maybe then I'd have gotten less attention from all those old, liquored up men! Ugh... they drive me crazy sometimes." she said, as I took my turn in examining her. She was strikingly pretty without her fancy shirt on- just a T-shirt and her black miniskirt. She was probably closer to 5'7", 125 lbs, 34-c breasts which had an elegantly done tribal symbol tattooed in the top center of them.
I brushed off the underlying compliment, attributing it to her friendliness. I opened my mouth to speak but felt foolish and closed it, not knowing what to say. Luckily she was engrossed in her closing duties and didn't notice.
She let out a sigh as she finished, slumping back in her chair and sticking her legs out in front of her. I felt her smooth skin brush against my leg, and come to a rest pressing against me. The booth afforded little room for 2 people to sit in comfort without touching. I felt a little tingle crawl up my neck but merely looked up at her and smiled. She didn't move her leg.
"So what are you plans for the night?" she inquired, leaning in on the table and resting her head in her palms. I could see a bit of cleavage when she did this, and began to feel warmer than usual.
"Nothing really... I've finished most of my work and I'm not on your time, physically at least, so this is like the middle of the day to me." I responded, putting down my work and leaning in, assuming a more receptive posture. My leg slid against hers, our smooth skin gliding together. She smiled.
We chatted for a bit about our jobs, she was exceptionally kind and friendly, and I had to admire her devotion to her studies. She worked 2 jobs non stop just to save up the money she needed for college every summer. She became more flirtatious, putting her hand on my arm, smiling and laughing, eventually sliding her other leg against mine, trapping me between her slender stems. I began to lose some of my earlier reservations - she was either interested or just extremely friendly and looking for a girlfriend to chat to. I was happy simply with the chance to get to know her better.
"Asian women are so elegantly beautiful," she said almost nonchalantly, "I must say I've always been jealous." As she said this more inhibitions broke down, and my face flushed with color as she began openly rubbing against me under the table. My attraction must have been utterly obvious, yet still I held the pretense of it just being a friendly chat.
"Want me to show you the pool on the roof? It's supposed to be closed this time of year but we all have keys to it. You can see the whole city from up there! What do you say?" she blurted out suddenly, breaking the tension that was building as a result of our touching and flirting.
"Sure," I replied, smiling wide. I felt my heart flutter a few beats as she took my small hand in hers, interlocking fingers with me and leading me to the lift. We waited in silence as the floors ticked down, hand in hand. She gave my hand a little squeeze as the doors opened with a *ding*, allowing us entrance.
The atmosphere on the elevator was filled with tension. We were still holding hands, but were completely silent for the first few floors.
Then it all broke down entirely.
She turned to me suddenly and pushed me against the wall, jamming the stop button on the elevator and putting her arms on either side of my head. She looked me straight in the eyes.