Gwen and Domenique took their first sips of coffee that morning, corrupting the lingering taste of each other's pussies and the toothpaste they'd brushed with earlier. The lovers, deciding to avoid returning to the corner booth they sat in the first time they'd been in the diner together, took two stools at the far end of the counter. It was busy that Sunday morning, at least more so than that first time they'd eaten there together. Another waitress, a woman in her early fifties, brought them coffee and menus. Gwen and Domenique discreetly scanned the long room, but their original query was no where to be seen. Glancing at each other, they exchanged furtive looks of resignation, and resumed the perusal of their menus. Presently, her mind made up, Gwen raised her gaze from her menu and instantly blushed as she saw their original waitress. She'd just rounded the corner beyond the counter that led from the kitchen; stopping short, her own complexion turning a pinker shade of tan.
Seeing her bright blue eyes again made Gwen recall how she'd seen them that morning; wide and peeking through the narrow space between the ladies room stall and its door while she and Domenique rubbed a couple off together for the first time, starved for each other, for the friction and the release. Was she a voyeur in practice, Gwen wondered, or was it her first time too? The waitress was as pretty as she'd remembered: lean yet apple figured, with breasts large enough not to ignore but not so large that they elicited gawking. Her shining blonde hair was parted in the center, most of which was bound up in an aesthetically messy ponied bun at the back of her head, while two evenly symmetrical locks framed her oval face, the curled ends of which hugged the sides of her chin and lines of her jaw. The last thing Gwen noticed before finally looking away was the gleaming stud hanging from the outside of her left eye brow.
Noticing that Domenique hadn't noticed, Gwen quietly cleared her throat and tapped the tip of her shoe against her ankle. Domenique glanced immediately to her right, caught sight of the obviously flustered waitress, smiled, and then gave her a small wave. The waitress cleared her own throat then, nodded in polite acknowledgement, and quickly stepped out from behind the counter.
"Oh my goodness," whispered Domenique, "What a pretty thing she's done with her hair."
"Hmm, I thought you'd like that."
They watched as the young woman walked briskly to the far end of the diner, and attend to a family that happened to be in the corner booth. Presently, the lovers looked away, related to each other what they'd order, closed their menus and sipped more of their coffees. Gwen glanced over her shoulder for another vantage, and saw that the waitress was talking to the older woman who had brought their coffee. White, she thought, remembering what Domenique had told her, wasn't a color. It was a value, a treatment, a means of lightening color. Lightening, charged ions; electric tingling, white lightening, the sight of the moon shining along Domenique's ass, white fingers and the back of a stranger's hands creeping up her thigh, crossing the crease of her right cheek, trailing the humid clef of her sweet baby's ass. White was friendship, truce, surrender, clean contact... Contact potential; roses are white. Our pussies are pink. We'll open the chain and take in your link. Gwen smiled inwardly and a little nervously, still amusing herself with her little poems.
"So; ladies." Said the young waitress, three or so years younger than either Domenique or Gwen, "Haven't seen you in a while."
"I'm surprised you remember us." Said Domenique as Gwen's gaze switched between her lover and the waitress, "I bet like hundreds of people pass through here every day."
On the drive over, Gwen had asked how they'd approach the waitress, if she happened to be on that day. Domenique stated that they'd play it by ear. Now, in the moment, Gwen realized that she was taking her usual passive role of quiet observer while Domenique worked to make things happen, doing the conversation steering for them both.
"I do," answered the waitress, pulling out a pad and pen from her breast pocket and glancing quickly around them, "But there are always some folks that stand out; one way or another."
"I'm flattered, I think. How about you Gwen? You flattered?"
Surprised, but no less speechless, Gwen shot rapid glances between Domenique and the waitress before nodding and humming a quiet affirmation.
"Funny," said the waitress, locking eyes with Gwen, "I don't remember you being this shy."
Gwen's eye brows seem to dance a crooked two step as she blushed. Domenique tried to hide her smile, but failed and got a solid punch in the arm for it.
"So what can we get for you this morning?" asked the waitress, making some effort to calm her smile.
"Well..." laughed Domenique as she rubbed her shoulder.
They gave their orders: Domenique would have the four by four; two scrambled eggs, two pancakes, two slices of bacon and two links of sausage, and Gwen would have a short stack of blueberry pancakes with a side of grits.
"Please don't embarrass me in front of her anymore." Whispered Gwen after the waitress left.
"Relax Gwen." Suggested Domenique between sips of her coffee, "I've got an idea, but it'll require a little patience and forgiveness from you. Trust me; you won't end up being the only one I embarrass."
"Oh my God Nique, " Gwen hissed, "What are you planning?"
"I said relax! Believe me: whatever happens in the next ten minutes or so will be worth a little loss of dignity. I'm betting that she's as good as yours, ours."
"Really? And what about your dignity?"
"Oh it'll be intact. Come on; I'm shameless."
That was true, thought Gwen as she breathed a great breath. Relax she says. Gwen sipped more of her coffee and then scanned the diner once more; trying to perhaps convey that she was truly relaxed. But, she wasn't. Fear, hunger, apprehension and desire flapped their sharp wings against the walls and pit of her stomach. Then, there she was again, their waitress, re-filling their mugs.
"What have you guys been up to?" she said, her attention on the topping off of Domenique's cup.
"Oh, a little this, a little that, " answered Domenique, "Making film recordings of our high jinx for posterity."
That was when Gwen went wide eyed, noticing that Domenique had withdrawn her camera from the inside of her denim jacket and turned it on. Oh Jesus no Nique! Oh my God! Seriously?
"Oh!" smiled the waitress as she stepped back to return the pot of coffee to its burner, "You guys into photography?"
"Yeah, at least we like to pretend anyway; by taking pictures."
