I was having lunch with my group of retired teachers; we meet at a different place each month. This was my first visit to this little grill. The menu was varied and there seemed to be something for everyone. I was wearing a blouse with a loose neckline today and even though I didn't let on, I noticed that the shy waiter was looking down my top at my breasts as he stood just to my left to take our orders. Later, I observed that throughout our meal, he seemed to be looking at me regularly and we often made eye contact.
He was nice enough looking and was about 6'2" tall with had really big hands. I wrote a note on a small piece of paper and wrapped my tip around it and I handed it to him directly rather than leaving it on the table as the other ladies seemed to be doing.
My note simply said, "Call me." My name, Sally, and my phone number.
I had nearly forgotten about the whole incident when the phone rang about 9 AM three days later. "This is Darren from the grill. Your note said to call you. Did I do something wrong?"
"No, you did nothing wrong, you just seemed like you might need someone to talk to and I want to offer my services."
"Oh, that would be great. I just recently moved here and I know no one. You reminded me of my mother's sister and made me realize how alone I am here. I called because today is my day off. I didn't call earlier because I didn't want to disturb you in the evening and I normally work all day."
"Let me take you to lunch. I know of a little place on the beach that serves great hot dogs and fries. Do you have transportation or would you like me to pick you up?"
"I have a bike, but I am used to going most anywhere on it."
"Give directions, I'll come get you."
Darren was renting the furnished, converted single car garage of a house near where he worked. When I got there he invited me in for a look. The furnishings were Spartan, but Darren kept everything picked up and the place was clean. It was a studio apartment with a small kitchen, complete with a table and two chairs, and an enclosed bathroom at one end; his bed, which converted into a couch, a chair and a TV at the other.
Darren told me his life story over our more than 3 hour lunch. He was 18, had graduated from high school in May, and was planning to work and attend the local Jr. College. He knew no one here and had never had a girlfriend. He wanted to, but was too shy to approach girls his own age. We held hands while we talked, or rather, while he talked and I made encouraging noises. Darren seemed to be very comfortable with me for some reason.
I told him that I had seen him looking down my blouse at his grill and he told me he was fascinated by breasts and had only seen them in pictures and on the internet. I told him we would see what we could do about his education - and left it at that.