This story is pure fiction.
*****
Julie and I had been friends since we were in our teens. We worked in the same office way back then and pretty soon we grew inseparable. We went everywhere and did everything together. Now we were both in our mid thirties and were still just as close. In the meantime she had married John and I, Ray.
Fortunately our husbands also got on well together and would often go off for a night out or play golf. We even bought houses next door to each other.
One morning we were sitting sharing a coffee and Julie obviously had something on her mind. "Come on, Julie," I encouraged her, "what's troubling you?"
She hesitated for a few seconds then drew a deep breath. "Well, you know how it is in the bedroom, you talk about your fantasies? One of John's favourites is where he gets served a meal by a sexy waitress - and things develop from there. He even knows exactly what his waitress looks like: long black hair, Latin complexion, slim but with big breasts, ..." She continued to depict the waitress and I listened in astonishment as she described me – even down to the mole on my left cheek.
“Yes, Maria,” she pressed on when she knew I realised it was me. “As you know, it's John's birthday on Friday and I'd like to give him a special dinner, just me and him. Served by his dream waitress. Would you ...?”
To give myself space to think I poured us both another coffee and sat down opposite her, staring blankly at the dark surface of the drink. My mind was numb and I just couldn't get my thoughts together. I sipped at the coffee and said, “Hell, I need something stronger than this.”
I got the vodka from the fridge, offered Julie some and poured us both a hefty slug I gulped mine down neat and poured another. Slowly my thoughts were beginning to coalesce as the spirit lit a fire in my belly.
John was an attractive man, no doubt about that so there wasn't a problem there. But could I let him make free with my body? With Julie there? As the second glass of vodka warmed me inside, I was starting to find the idea appealing. And yet, I thought, I'm a married woman. I've never been unfaithful to Ray and had no suspicions that he had strayed from our marital bed.
“Let me ask Ray,” I said eventually. “See what he says.”
“Would you go all the way with John?” She took hold of my hand across the table and looked me straight in the eye.
I refused to commit myself, repeating, “I'll ask Ray, let's leave it a that.” But the fire in my belly was now more than liquor!
We continued with the rest of our day as normal, never bringing up the subject. That evening I was especially attentive to Ray: cooked his favourite meal and we made passionate love in bed that night. As we lay cuddled together I brought up the subject of fantasies and, as we talked, I slipped in John's dream, and how Julie had asked me to fulfill it. He held me close and asked me if I wanted to do it. I told him, only so long as he was happy with the idea. “And I mean perfectly happy!” I insisted.
He lay silently for a couple of minutes and I gave him the time he needed. Finally, “Yes, if you're happy with it, do it.” he said. “On one condition; I get a Skandinavian waitress on Saturday.”
Julie's Icelandic heritage showed clearly in her pale complexion, blonde hair and ice-blue eyes and I had no doubt he meant her. Fair enough, I thought. Sauce for the goose ...
Ray then took hold of me and we had the most explosive sex we'd had in years. At one stage he even whispered in my ear, “Julie,” I responded fiercely with “Yes, John, NOW” and we both erupted into a wild orgasm.
As soon as I had seen Ray off to work the next morning I popped next door and sat up to Julie's kitchen table while she poured us a coffee.
“Well,” she demanded, as soon as she sat down. “What's the verdict?”
I smiled and held her in suspense for a few long seconds. “Looks like John's going to get full waitress service on Friday.”
Her face lit up and she came over and hugged me tightly. “Oh, that's magic! Keep it secret: I want to surprise him.”
I held her at arms length and cautioned her, “There's just one condition: you are Ray's waitress on Saturday.”
Bless her, she took it in her stride, gulped once and replied, “OK, he gets his waitress, too!”
On Friday morning we went out together and hired maids' uniforms from a theatrical shop, giggling as we tried them on. We also went shopping for new lingerie to show off our 'charms' to best effect then made a trip to the stores to buy the ingredients for the meals we were to prepare and spent the afternoon in Julie's kitchen cooking.
Then it was time to get dressed! I went back home and took a long, luxurious soak in the tub, towelled myself dry and laid out my uniform for the evening. I fastened the suspender belt around my waist and pulled up the black lace pants which struggled to contain my thick black bush. The matching ¾ cup bra was designed to push my breasts up and together showing my 38C cleavage to full advantage. I rolled the black seamed nylons up my legs and twisted my body around, peering in the mirror to check the seams were straight. Why do seamed nylons look so incredibly sexy? A black silk mini-slip completed my underwear.
The traditional French maid's unform was a figure-hugging black with low-cut top and the flared skirt which only just hid my stocking tops. The crisp white, lace-trimmed pinny enhanced my slim waist and my long black hair was controlled by a contrasting starched white lace band. I put on some heavy make-up, glossing my lips in bright scarlet and slipped into my 4” black patent stilettos then looked at myself in the full-length mirror.
“Well, John's got himself one sexy waitress,” I said to my reflection as I twirled and noted with relish my skirt flaring to reveal my thighs, naked above the stockings.
Satisfied, I left my bedroom just in time to see Ray entering the front door. His eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw me. Taking me in his arms, he hugged me tightly but I refused his kiss, as I didn't want my lipstick ruined. “I've a good mind to take you right back into that bedroom and keep you to myself.”
I untangled myself from his embrace. “You get your turn tomorrow!” I laughed. Then turning serious for a moment I again asked him, “Ray, are you sure you're happy with this?”
“Yes, my love, you go and enjoy yourself, then come back and tell me all about it.” He pecked my cheek, gave my bum a playful slap and said, “Scoot, Maria – go fuck his brains out!”
I slipped a coat around my shoulders to protect me from the winter's chill and prying eyes, took a deep breath and walked down the path to Julie's house, conscious of the click-clack of my heels on the stone surface in the stillness of the early evening. I went round the back and let myself in through the kitchen door.
Julie, putting the finishing touches to the meal, looked up when I entered and let out a low whistle. “WOW! You look good enough to eat. John is upstairs getting washed up, everything's ready here. Will you wait in the kitchen 'til I call you?”
She was a dream in a full-length cream silk evening gown with mandarin neck and slit up one leg to her hip. The rest hugged her figure and accentuated the fulness of her breasts. Her shoulder-length blonde hair held back by a matching cream silk band. She showed me the dining room with the curtains tightly closed and softly illuminated by discrete side lights and a large candlebra on the table. The sideboard was stacked with everything I needed to serve the meal.
We heard John coming down the stairs and she ushered me back into the kitchen and closed the door behind me. Suddenly my knees started shaking and a fluttering started up in my belly. The realisation that I was going to be offering myself to another man hit me. I dived into Julie's fridge and poured myself a very large vodka. It helped somewhat. Deep breathing brought my legs and tummy under control then I heard Julie's voice calling, “Waitress!”
Gathering myself, I opened the door and entered the dining area, bobbed a little curtsy and replied, “Yes, Madame? Are you ready to be served?”
Never in my life have I seen it on a man's face. I've read about peoples' mouths opening and closing like a fish out of water but that is exactly what John was doing.
“Happy birthday, John,” said my mistress for the night, her eyes twinkling as she saw her husband's reaction. “Maria is going to attend to all our needs.” She reached over and squeezed John's thigh.
Poor John was still speechless. I went to his side, dropped another curtsy and asked if there was anything I could help with. By now he was perceiving the implications of the situation: “Not just yet,” he smiled. “Maybe later?” There was a laughing question in his voice.
I went to the sideboard and retrieved the first course: simple melon cocktails which I placed in front of them. I took the first wine bottle from the cooler and proceeded to open it, deliberately causing my breasts to sway as I screwed the corkscrew in. I poured Julie a glass and, as I leant forward to pour John's, I made sure my breast nestled against the back of his head. I was enjoying myself teasing him but he didn't react.
I stepped back while they finished their melons then retrieved the dishes, bending low with my cleavage almost in John's face. I was satisfied to see him peering down and I felt his hand touch the back of my leg, running up towards my thigh. I cleared the dishes then moved in to pour more wine, again feeling John's hand straying to my stocking top.
Julie had roast a juicy duckling for the main course. I returned to the kitchen, sneaked another shot from the vodka bottle, got the plates from the warm oven and placed them in front of the couple. I returned with the dishes of vegetables and served each of them, always making sure John had a close-up view of my breasts.
As I stood there offering the condiments, I pointedly asked Julie, “Do you want stuffing, Madame?” I emphasised the word.
