"Waiter!... I say, Waiter!"
Ross Bromfeld's loud and insistent nasal tones boomed out across the restaurant. It was the voice of a public school arsehole and Jeff the waiter couldn't stand him. Unfortunately, the guy was a frequent visitor to the place. He usually came in with his lovely young wife and several other couples. They were all rich and successful and equally obnoxious. Tonight, their posh accents, sniggers and laughter were particularly loud and penetrating. Wisely, the head waiter had seated them in an alcove on the mezzanine floor, up some stairs and away from the main room, which at least kept them away from other customers and their noise partially under control. They came to the restaurant because the food was so good and was highly rated by the critics. The place was expensive, but had a great reputation. It was somewhere where only the well-off came to dine. After all, it was one of the best restaurants in London. Luigi the owner prided himself on everything being perfect for his customers.
As Jeff served at their table, he kept eyeing Bromfeld's wife, Glenda. It was difficult not to look. She was a beauty alright. A pretty blue eyed blonde. And her figure hugging low cut dress showed off her magnificent young breasts and superb curvaceous body. She stood out among the other ladies who were there that night, even though the standard was particularly high. But that was always the case, whenever she came to dine there, because she was something really special. Jeff thought so, anyway. How he envied the little shit she was married to. The guy had been a lucky bastard lucky to win a fantastic girl like her. Not only was she a stunner, but, it was rumoured that her father was a millionaire in the construction industry.
His thoughts about her were interrupted by Bromfeld's loud and irritating laughter ringing out only a couple of feet away from him. Oh, how that sound grated on him. He was holding a nearly full bottle of red wine at that moment, and, could have cheerfully, poured the full contents right over the man's head.
If only he didn't need this job...
Bromfeld's party had him running backwards and forwards all night. They were all finicky and demanding, constantly wanting something or other. As he did his work, he couldn't help but overhear a lot of their conversation. It was difficult to avoid, really, as they loudly bragged about stocks & shares, expensive holidays, property values etc...In other words, the language of the rich. Then another couple in their party turned up late and had to be accommodated. More work for the staff as table settings were changed, extra chairs provided, more orders taken... etc etc...
Suddenly, there was more laughter as Glenda somehow walked into a trolley on her way to the ladies. She was somewhat short sighted and that was the joke. She had spectacles, but, was always too vain to wear them. As she walked back to the table, Jeff managed a discerning look at her legs. Like the rest of her they were superb; long, well- shaped and tanned, putting on a generous display for leg-lovers and admirers, all around, in her short blue cocktail dress.
Bromfeld's, well-dressed party were all in a good mood, enjoying themselves. Some deal or other in the city had obviously gone well. In celebration, two bottles of champagne were ordered and consumed in no time. Then they were back on the wine. Red for the gents, white for the ladies. Jeff had his work cut out serving to their needs.
Then the group got on talking about some posh fancy dress ball. An event they were all going to the next Saturday night at Rosemount Hall, an exclusive venue on the river. Apparently, ticket's had been practically impossible to obtain and Bromfeld was in his element bragging about how he had used his extensive contacts to secure them.
On another visit to the table, Jeff overheard the ladies chatting excitedly about what costumes they would be wearing: French maid, schoolgirl, nurse, it was enough to get Jeff licking his lips just thinking about it.
His thoughts were interrupted, as a familiar irksome voice boomed out.
"Another bottle of wine, waiter, quick as you can, man."
Jeff seethed inwardly, as he went to the bar to fulfil the order. How the bloke irritated him. The guy had it all, money, success, a beautiful wife, everything he wanted. And he treated people like Jeff as dirt beneath his feet.
As he went through the ritual of pouring out more wine at their table, he heard Bromfeld's posh nasal tones again.
"Glenda and I are going as Batman and Cat Woman. We have some great costumes on order from Hardy Bros."
Everyone at the table was interested in his statement including the waiter.
They kept Jeff busy all night, and, even after they had gone there was much to do, clearing up their messy table. It took him ages and he was feeling tired after a particularly long shift at the restaurant.
The arrogant sods had never once said please or thank you and had left a tip that could only be described as derisory.
However, Jeff remembered that he had already received a tip of another kind. And a slow grin formed on his face as he later walked home.
He had just thought of a wicked and audacious idea to put one over on the detestable Mr. Bromfeld and his kind.
Later, as he lay in his bed, he went over his idea again. Yes, with a bit of work and planning and a nice slice of luck, he could pull it off. It was certainly worth a try. He pulled out a notebook and jotted down what he needed to do.
It was Saturday night and Rosemount Hall was seething with activity. A large historic building, in a beautiful setting, overlooking the River Thames. Reputably once owned by the Duke of Buckingham and now one of London's prime venues for balls, charity events and large parties. Tonight, there were nearly 200 guests at the Masked Ball and all were dressed in a wide variety of costumes. It was quite a sight to see. A gathering of some of the capital's rich, famous and well-to-do.
The main hall was packed: The music, and, dancing in full flow as Ross Bromfeld and his party, in full costume, rudely elbowed their way through to the bar. And there waiting to serve them was Jeff, the waiter from Luigi's restaurant. Not that they would have recognised him or acknowledged his presence even if they had.
Jeff busily organised their drinks and took payment. He saw with satisfaction that Ross was roughly the same height as him and approximately the same build. The mask he was wearing covered most of his face, but, his nauseating voice was still unrestricted and it boomed out over everyone else's.
As the party went on in full swing, a lot more drinks were consumed. Jeff gave Ross's wife a generous helping of gin in her tonics whenever he served them and generally kept a careful watch on proceedings. When he at last saw what he was waiting for, he excused himself from the bar and slipped away with a carrier bag under his arm.
Ten minutes later, the impressive figure of Batman, in full costume, emerged from the Gent's toilet and made his way into the crowded hall. He was looking for someone in particular and didn't stop moving until he found her.
A beautiful girl with long blonde hair and dressed as Cat Woman in a shapely costume stood there on her own, sipping a drink. She downed her glass and swayed towards him when she saw him. He noticed that she wasn't wearing her spectacles and smiled. He was pleased about that and she definitely looked better without them.
"Ah you haven't been long, then"...she said. "Well now that you're here you can jolly well give me a dance."
As they danced together on the crowded floor, Glenda felt a pair of hands grope her pert round backside.
"You're a bit frisky tonight my love, what's come over you?" She said. "We'll have to come to more events like this."
