"I told you I wanted the bacon well-done," the woman said loud enough for most of the café to hear.
Jason looked down at the two halves of the BLT sandwich laid open for the young man to see the meat in question.
"We didn't think you wanted it burnt," Jason said.
"I wanted it the way I ordered it," the woman stated firmly. "Well-done. Not soft. Not burnt. Well-done."
"Would you like another sandwich?" Jason asked.
"If it's not an inconvenience to the cook," she answered.
"We'll bring it out to you."
Despite his irritation at the public berating, Jason's eyes followed the very attractive customer as she returned to her table. She was most likely in her mid to late thirties, a professional of some type, with a penchant for crisp, body hugging blouses with low necklines...and an ass to kill for.
A few moments later, Jason personally delivered a second BLT, with well-done bacon, to her table. As he set it down he captured a good view down her silky blouse. Her breasts were full and firm and perfectly sized for his taste. He grinned at her devilishly and she leered back as if wanting to strangle him.
Jason had seen many beautiful women pass through the downtown café in the years he had worked there, but this one was different. She was striking; not like a model or movie star, but striking in her natural beauty. Her short blonde hair was obviously done by a stylist and every individual hair was in its proper place. Her body was perfectly proportional and she dressed as if she knew it.
Jason spent many a night thinking about the BLT lady, even though two weeks passed without his seeing her again. Certainly, her bacon nightmare was enough to drive her away forever.
Then she was back. Jason saw her enter the café and move to another spot at the counter, ready to order. Jason rushed over and assigned the kid about to take the order to bus tables. He then looked at her and grinned.
"Chef salad with no onions or croutons and fat-free Italian dressing," she ordered, digging into her purse for her wallet.
"No bacon?" Jason inquired.
Her head jerked up and she looked at him fiercely. Jason was sure she was about to turn and leave. He saw her cheeks flush with apparent anger, and she asked, "How much?"
After getting payment and giving her the receipt, Jason watched every step she took to her table. He felt his cock twitch at the mere sight of her walking in her designer dress.
Between customers, Jason glanced over at her and saw when the salad was delivered. Even though he could not hear her, he could tell the instant she put a fork into the salad that something wasn't right. Jason watched her angrily slam the fork onto the table and get up, salad in hand. She approached the counter.
"Is there a problem?" he asked calmly.
"I ordered this with no onions."
Jason gazed down at the bowl. He grabbed a fork from a nearby silverware tray and delicately picked out the half dozen onion slices from the top of the salad, placing them on the dish holding the bowl. He then pushed the salad in her direction.
"You fucking bastard," she hissed under her breath, but loud enough for Jason to hear her.
He watched her stomp out of the café, never to enter again.
But that wasn't the last time they would meet.
Twenty five year old Jason Roberts wasn't overly smart, or rich, or good looking. But he was clever. He knew who the BLT lady had talked to in the café and when he saw them, he began to question them innocently about her. Had they seen her lately? Was she still working downtown? Where did she work? Did they know her name?
Eventually he knew that Kristen Stewart was a CPA for McGlaughlin and Smith. She worked in their building on Ninth Avenue. She was divorced with no kids...and she was a bitch. A really cute one, but a bitch.
Two co-workers in particular—regulars at the café during Happy Hour—eagerly filled Jason in on her one Friday night.
"My favorite Kristen story is the day she almost killed Cooper," one of them said to a nodding friend and Jason. "Cooper was a supervisor over her, but everybody knew she did all the work and knew way more than he did."
The guy took a drink and continued: "So, he calls Kristen into his office with the apparent intent of feeling her up or something."
His co-worker added, "You have to know Cooper. He's about fifty five and overweight and likely beats off watching her work every day."
The first guy laughed and picked up the story. "So, like, nobody actually witnessed it because the door was closed, but they heard Kristen screech some profanity and the next thing you know things are bouncing off the office walls. Cooper could be heard yelling something back at her, but the bombardment continued for, like, thirty seconds."
Both guys were laughing and the second guy finished the tale. "So, Kristen walks out, her hair a little out of place, which is, of course, something you never see and then people look in to Cooper with a huge wet spot in his crotch where Kristen had thrown a glass of water or something to cool him off. And every other loose object in the office had been thrown in his direction."
"The poor guy was gone in less than a month," the first one said after the three laughed. "No one messes with Kristen Stewart and lives to talk about it."
"She loves to tease, though," the second guy said. "I knew a prospective client they brought in from out of town for a week a couple of years ago. He was a friend of my brother's. He told me they had Kristen at every meeting in her most appealing outfits and even had her take him out to dinner one night. I guess she was all over him until he did a Cooper on her, and she left him hangin'...literally."
It was all the information Jason needed to hear to convince him to put his plan into action. Kristen Stewart needed to be brought down a notch and he was more than willing to be the guy to do it, but he would need help. He asked the two men if they would be willing to participate, making sure they realized the extent of their involvement would be left up to them. They agreed.
Their names were Tom and Andy. Jason said he would speak to them whenever they came in for Happy Hour if he needed their assistance. The alliance was formed and it would soon prove to be the undoing of Kristen Stewart.
Step one was to demonstrate to her that Jason had control over her. That would be easy enough by providing her an opportunity to snub him and then have her pay the price. The plan would take a little coordination between himself and Tom and Andy, however.
A trip to the mall resulted in his purchase of an especially short and revealing dress that didn't empty his bank account. At the next Happy Hour, Jason assigned Tom and Andy with getting him Kristen's home address.
Then he had to wait for the next day that his café delivered a catered lunch to Kristen's company, which they did fairly routinely. Jason knew he could use his seniority at the café to ask to be the one who made the delivery.
The day before he made that delivery, he visited Kristen's condo and left a package on her front porch while she was at work. It contained the dress and a note that demanded she wear the dress to work the next day or 'face the consequences of disobedience.' No clues were left behind for her to determine who was behind the ultimatum and she certainly had no reason to suspect an insignificant employee of a café she no longer frequented.
Jason was restless the day of the lunch delivery in anticipation of starting his campaign to reform Ms. Stewart. He believed, without a doubt, that she would not wear the dress. If she didn't, he had a plan of action. If she did wear the dress, he had an alternative strategy that would ramp up the demands until she was forced to defy him.
He arrived a few minutes before noon and was led into an empty conference room where the box lunches were to be served. As was pre-arranged, Tom and Andy met him there and confirmed for him that Kristen had not worn the dress. Jason smiled and waited for her to appear.
