No raucous buzz from the alarm at 5:45, followed by a 25 minute frenzy of showering, shaving, dressing, and bagel making that gets me to the bus stop outside my condo in time to catch the 6:17 express bus to the subway. If I don't make that bus, the 6:32 tends to be standing room only, so I work hard to maintain the schedule. But today is Saturday. I can usually sleep in until about 8 and then start my day at a leisurely pace. But I woke up shortly after midnight with a splitting headache. I took a few aspirin and managed to get back to sleep, but found myself tossing and turning in the dark. Around 5 am I got up to relieve myself, and on the way back I peered out the bedroom window facing MacArthur Boulevard. Still raining, damn it. I looked down from my 11th story flat and saw noticed that the "R" in the neon sign for Carl's Diner was flickering. It won't be long until it's "Cal's Diner", I thought to myself. Or maybe if the C goes out, too, it will be "Al's." One shouldn't have such rational thoughts this time of day, I muttered under my breath. I grabbed my robe and headed for the kitchen. I wasn't going back to sleep. I popped a bagel in the toaster and then headed towards the fridge for the cream cheese. Oh, geez, I had forgotten. I used up the last of the cream cheese yesterday. Carl's it was, I reasoned. They were open all night, had decent coffee and a great omelet. I threw on some sweats and an overcoat and headed out the door.
I had never been to Carl's so early before, and certainly never in such a disheveled state. Not that the other customers were looking any better. Stooped over the counter was a scruffy looking man, perhaps homeless, his hands wrapped around a cup of Joe. On the far end of the diner were four college guys in a booth, no doubt sobering up from a night at the clubs. I found a seat on the opposite end of the counter from the bum and surveyed the menu. A minute later the door from the kitchen swung open and a short young woman headed my way.
Geez, I thought, she's hot. Even in a shapeless pink waitress uniform, I could see that she had a kicking body. Her breasts were high and pert, but the rest of her body thin and tight. She had what I can best describe as a pixie face ... a slight nose, pouty lips, and green eyes that seem unnaturally large and round. Normally I'm not crazy about girls who cut their hair short, but her strawberry boyish mop somehow made her look very feminine.
"What can I get you?" she asked in a meek voice.
Looking at her name tag I said, "Meagan, I see. What happened to Judy?"
"Oh, she's on the morning shift. She'll be in at 7. I've got the graveyard shift."
"You're alone?"
"Me and the cook. The rest of the night crew went home around 3, once the bar patrons headed home."
"My lucky day then, to get to see such a cute thing like you this early in the morning."
I'm sure that Meagan must get constantly hit on by guys, but she blushed all the same.
"Well, I need the extra money. College, you know."
I nodded knowingly. It had been more than fifteen years ago since I was in college myself. And as I moved from that life into the working world, I seemed far removed from coeds. And no big loss, I concluded recently. I came to appreciate more confident and serious girls. Although, looking at Meagan now, I wasn't really thinking about having a conversation with her. I was having a primal reaction, as evidenced by my stiffening cock. Whether or not she was a party girl or bookworm didn't matter to me. I wasn't going to feign interest in her major. I just wanted to throw my weight into her tiny frame, grab her tight breasts, and fuck her silly.
"You have an exceptional body," I said brazenly, "And the way you blush only makes you so much hotter." I knew I'd be pushing her limits, but I'm pretty good at reading people. She was a bit naive and shy. I felt like a cat that just found a mouse to banter about.
"Have you decided what you want to order, or do you need more time?" she asked, fidgeting slightly.
"I know exactly what I want," I replied, shamelessly studying her frame as I talked. "Western omelet with a side of wheat toast. Black coffee, please."
"Hash browns?"
"No. No, thank you. And I'm famished. I'd really appreciate if if you could get the cook started on this right away."
"Sure, right away, sir." As she walked away with a quickened pace I appreciated her high tight ass and chuckled to myself. Sir. Am I that old?
A minute later Meagan returned with a mug and a pot of coffee. "I take it you wanted regular. I forgot to ask."
"Yes, regular. I'm not going back to bed now." As she carefully poured the brew, I realized that she must be new to waitressing. She's trying very hard to control herself, I could tell. I wish she would spill the coffee, I mused somewhat sadistically. I liked seeing her flustered.
Meagan looked me in the eyes for a second and then it happened. She seemed to lose her focus and spilled some coffee on the counter.
Embarrassed, Meagan reached for a rag from under the counter and mopped up the spill. "Oh, I'm so very sorry. I'll get you a fresh cup right away."
"Yes, thank you," I said calmly. As she left for the kitchen I thought how odd that was. I wanted her to spill the coffee, and it happened.
She returned with a clean cup and carefully poured another cup for me.
"Could I also bother you for a glass of tap water?"
"Sure." She returned the hot carafe of coffee and returned with a glass of water. Now, Meagan, spill the water, too, I thought. As she set the glass of water in front of me, it tipped to one side.
"I'm SOOOOO sorry!" she exclaimed, surprised at her clumsiness.
I smiled at her reaction and calmly replied, "Ain't no thing." And once again I pondered how this was a very odd coincidence.
She mopped up the second spill and replaced the soaked napkin and silverware set before me. As she was finishing up I grabbed both of her hands and asked, "Do I make you nervous, Meagan?"
"Not really, sir," she said, but her actions contradicted her words.
From the kitchen I heard the cook ring a bell twice and announce, "Order's up!"
Meagan pulled her hands away from me and rushed towards the kitchen.
I bet she's going to be super cautious now, I thought. I'd love to see her tip-toe to me with my food.
Meagan surfaced from the kitchen with a plate in hand. And then it happened. She lifted her toes and walked nervously towards me, placing the plate before me with extreme care. I smiled approvingly. And then she waited for me to dismiss her. I held the gaze.
From the other side of the restaurant, one of the four college guys barked, "Hey, waitress. More coffee!"
