I'm one of those women who just love men. I've always liked men better than women. It's not just that they are open about what they like and want; men have been so nice to me!
It started when I was young. Daddy and I were best friends. Mother used to complain that he was spoiling me and tried to get him to be more stern like she was, but he never stopped being kind. When I started to mature, boys my age discovered me and treated me like I was special. I've always loved men.
My mother, on the other hand, never seemed to like men and always tried to keep boys away from me.
"You have to be careful," she warned. "Boys will take advantage of you."
"I'm not stupid, mother," I said.
"You're very pretty Kelly β with a better figure than most grown women, but you think like a little girl," she said. She always worried about boys but I didn't.
When boys came to the house to pick me up for dates Mother was horrible to them. Nobody ever asked for a second date - until I met Scott. Of all the wonderful boys I knew, he was the most wonderful. We fell deeply in love and even my overprotective mother couldn't scare him off.
When I turned eighteen we told my parents we were going to get married. I expected mom to object but she didn't.
"Good," mom said. "Now Scott can try to keep the boys away."
"Mom!" I said.
"It's true baby," mom said. "You like boys because they're nice to you. But they're only nice because they want to use you. And you're too dim to get it."
We got married right after graduation from high school and everything was perfect for about a year. Then disaster struck.
"I got laid off today," Scott said collapsing into his recliner.
"Don't worry honey-bunny," I said tussling his hair. "You'll get another one."
"No I won't," he said dejectedly. "Nobody is building anything and there are thousands of carpenters out of work. Most of them have more seniority than me."
Unfortunately he was right. Months went by without a single offer. My happy husband stopped smiling.
We had been planning to start a family and I had quit my waitress job at Denny's Restaurant to get the house ready.
I was off the pill. Each morning I measured my basal body temperature and I could tell the day I ovulated and was most fertile. By then, however it didn't matter. Depression had captured Scott and our sex life evaporated. Eventually I got depressed too.
Our savings ran out (we never had much) and we 'maxed-out' our credit cards. But it wasn't until we actually ran out of food, that I put my foot down and told Scott I was going to start working again.
I went straight to The Beach and filled out an application. Some women criticize that restaurant because of the skimpy bikinis the waitresses wear and they say the men are rude to the staff. But I wasn't worried. Men were always nice to me and I heard the girls got great tips.
I was interviewed by the owner- a nice old man named Vito Dionora. He reminded me so much of Daddy. I liked him the moment I saw him.
"You're 20 all right," he said handing me back my drivers' license. "If you get the job you'll have to buy your own bikini," he added.
I suddenly felt sick. I didn't have any money to buy a suit. But I guess the dear man could read my mind.
"Well..." he said. "We do have a few bikinis in the back that we could give you. But not in every size."
"That would be wonderful!" I exclaimed. "It wouldn't have to be a perfect fit."
"Ok," he said taking a tape measure out of his desk.
He walked behind me.
"Lift your arms, my dear," he said.
Mr. Dionora wrapped the tape around my chest just under my boobs. Then he moved it up over the fullest part of my bust, at the level of the nipples. The kindly old man must have a touch of arthritis because he spent a lot of time feeling around and trying to get the tape properly placed. It tickled and I almost choked trying to keep from laughing.
"Let's see. Twenty-nine inches, plus five gives you a thirty-four bust. With a C cup?" he asked.
"Yes. I'm a C," I said a little embarrassed.
"Twenty two inches," he said with the tape around my waist.
Then he knelt and wrapped the tape around my hips and bottom. It took him a couple of tries until he had a good reading.
"And thirty-four inch hips. You're just a little thing, aren't you?" he said cheerfully.
"I'm big enough to do this job, Mr. Dionora," I said confidently.
"Yes," he said with a friendly smile. "I think you are."
He went in a back room and came back with a few scraps of blue material on a hanger.
"Try this on in the bathroom," he said.
The bottoms covered my butt all right but the top seemed too small. The sides of my boobs showed more than I liked.
"Don't be shy," he said when I came out. "Come over here and let me see you."
He put his big warm hands on my shoulders and turned me around to check out my little turquoise floral print bikini.
"It's a good fit," he said with a big smile that calmed me a bit. "Here take this tray and walk around the office so we can see if you've got enough balance to be a good waitress."
"Yes sir," I said. I took the tray and walked around as Mr. Dionora carefully examined my balance.
"Incredible," he sighed as I circled his desk. "You've got the job. When can you start?"
"Tonight?" I offered.
"Why not," he said laughing.
I jumped into his arms and hugged him before I remembered the tiny bikini. Luckily he didn't notice my nearly naked boobs smashed against his chest. He held me for a long time just to make me feel welcome. I love men.
In that first week I made enough to pay half the mortgage and fill the refrigerator with food! The best tips came from playful groups of drunken guys. They liked to touch me a lot and horse around but I liked it. Women didn't tip me so well.
On the Monday of my second week, Mr. Dionora pulled me aside.
"I have a wonderful opportunity for you," he said with his arm around my bare waist. "My brother comes in for dinner every Monday night with a bunch of wealthy associates. You know β 'good fellas'. They always tip real good and their regular waitress just went on maternity leave. He asked for my friendliest waitress, so naturally I told him about you."
I was so delighted that I tried to kiss his cheek but he turned towards me at the last second and I smacked him right on lips! I was so embarrassed.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Dionora!" I gushed. "I'll do a great job."
"I know you will Kelly," he said. "I'll tell the hostess to give your tables to one of the other girls. You'll devote all your time to taking care of Carmine and his associates back in the Vine Room. Have one of the bartenders help you set up the little bar back there and show you how to mix some of the basic drinks. One of the busboys will be with you to run to the kitchen for you. You'll stay in the room and serve drinks and food and wait for them to call for something. And you'll give Carmine whatever he wants."