Waiting 133

It was a typically busy Friday night at Mattia so it took a moment for Seth to notice Hannah angling from the back of the restaurant toward him. She smirked, which normally meant the hostess had a good table for him and was looking for a kickback.

"One person at Table 6 for you," she said.

"You're giving me that look for taking up a table for a single person? He better be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. He towered over Hannah, even if she was wearing heels. It would impact his tip total for the night. It meant she better have a good reason to do that.

"

She

might be," Hannah said, which caught Seth's attention. "Beautiful, well-dressed, and asked for you specifically. Said you came 'highly recommended.' Something you're not telling the rest of us?"

Seth reached into his pocket, pulled out a 20 and slipped to Hannah, who returned to the hostess station to deal with the rest of the waiting customers. Seth angled towards Table 6, trying to see what the woman looked like before directly approaching.

She was seriously attractive, whoever she was. Seth was excellent at figuring out ages, so his gut said she was probably hovering on one side of 40 or the other, but care, genetics and possibly some work had her looking younger than that. Her hair was a wavy honey blonde and dropped a few inches past her shoulders, and it was clear she spent money on it at a good salon.

She wore a black dress that went up to her neck but was snug on top, emphasizing some nice breasts and curves. It flared out on the bottom, showing off enough leg to indicate they might give the breasts a run for the money. The stockings and heels were just icing on the cake. She wasn't giving off a model vibe, so maybe a businesswoman?

Mattia wasn't a Michelin-starred restaurant, but the owner had ambitions. It was an excellent Italian restaurant, and the atmosphere was discreet. You didn't eat here to get noticed; you ate here for the superb food and some privacy. Couples, businessmen, and some local professional athletes were the standard clientele. Single businessmen happened occasionally. Single women who looked like her were unheard of.

Intrigued, he moved towards the table. She looked up from the menu and smiled as he approached.

"Good evening, ma'am. My name is Seth, and I'll be taking care of you this evening," he said. Seth had variants of that introduction. 'I'll be your waiter this evening' or 'I'll be your server this evening.' He made a choice based on instinct, and with a woman like this, who had asked for him specifically, he bet 'taking care of' would work best.

He was right. She flushed a bit and her smile got bigger.

"Please call me Samantha. I know that's a bit unorthodox, but 'ma'am' makes me feel old age is sweeping down on me," she said. Her make-up was also perfect, accenting her green eyes and a shade of red lipstick that could give you bad thoughts.

"Of course, Samantha," he said, not arguing the point. He didn't subscribe to the ludicrous idea that 'the customer was always right,' but he wouldn't make a fuss about this. "Can I get you anything to drink to start?"

"Perhaps you can bring out a bottle of red wine to start?" she said, tapping one of her manicured nails on a Tua Rita Keir 2019, a $250 bottle listed on the menu.

"Of course," Seth said, hiding his surprise.

"I know I'm taking up a table on one of your busiest nights. One of my girlfriends was supposed to join me but cancelled at the last minute. I guess I could have cancelled, but I've been looking forward to eating here for a while. I promise to make it worth your time," she said, shifting her smile from welcoming to flirty.

"Please don't worry about it. You're a welcome change of pace. I'll be right back," Seth said, heading towards the bar.

Normally he would view one person sitting at a table on their busiest night as a sign he'd displeased the restaurant gods. Now he wondered if he didn't have a very entertaining evening ahead of him. How she smiled at him while taking her wine order meant the game was afoot. It was the same one he played every night...the best method to get the biggest gratuity out of whoever he served. After eight years of being a waiter, and the last three at Mattia, Seth was now very good at this game.

Ashley sidled up to him at the bar as he waited for the bottle of wine. In no particular order, they were: the longest-serving waiters at Mattia, the two best waiters, and the two sexiest ones. She was blonde, with a slim build but with large tits that looked like they might be fake if you didn't know better, which he did. The big blue eyes drew you in. Although she stood five feet tall in stocking feet, she was floating around the restaurant effortlessly in her four-inch heels this evening.

"I was going to offer my condolences on Hannah screwing you with a one-person table, but I just walked past, and god damn," she said after placing her order with the bartender. He gave Seth the bottle of red wine and two glasses a moment later. He put one back on the table and got ready to head back.

"She asked for me, apparently," Seth said.

"Really? Ooooh, how intriguing. Don't forget to pump her for details," she said, grabbing her own drinks.

"Slut," Seth muttered so only Ashley could hear it.

"Takes one to know one," she sang back, giving her standard response.

The waiters at Mattia all had the skills you wanted at a top-tier restaurant. Speed, efficiency, and an almost psychic ability to know what alcohol and food the customer wanted. When to be discreet and when to flirt. Seth and Ashley were just that much better at it than anyone else. It also didn't hurt that Seth was 6'2", slim, and very easy on the eyes. He jogged every morning, which was a necessity when you worked at an Italian restaurant. He had black hair, deep blue eyes and a good smile. He got hit on a lot at work by both men and women. The way he figured it, he could be a smug asshole about it or more modest and self-deprecating.

Modest and self-deprecating got better tips.

As he approached Samantha's table, he noticed she still hadn't tucked her legs back under the table, giving him a view that stretched from the $1,000 pair of black and red Louboutins all the way up to her mid-thigh. He'd wager they were garters or thigh-high stockings. She remained focused on the menu but smiled, knowing he enjoyed the view.

He arrived at the table, uncorked the wine, and poured a small drop into her glass. She tasted it and nodded for him to continue to pour.

"God, there's so much I want here, but a girl has to watch her figure," she said.

"I believe you have some grace to indulge this evening if you wish," he said. Which wasn't bullshit. She could eat the menu and would still have a killer body.

"So what do you recommend I should indulge in?" she asked, sipping her wine and looking at him through her eyelashes.

Seth would have to be careful here. Samantha was captivating, and he still had other tables to take care of. The voice in his head was getting louder about this, and he learned the hard way never to ignore it.

"For you, perhaps some sourdough bread and olive oil, then I'm thinking a grilled rapini salad," he said, then paused. "You're not a seafood person, are you?"

"No, not really," she said, clearly delighted that Seth could figure this out. "How did you know?"

"I'm very good at reading my customer's needs," he said.

"Hmmm, that could get embarrassing," she muttered quietly, but not so quiet that he didn't hear.

"Mmmm, then I think either the agnolotti ai funghi or the signorine for the main. We can talk about the desert later if you're in the mood for something sweet," he said.

"Let's go with the signorine," she said. Seth noted it was the more expensive of the two dishes. She was either trying to flaunt some money or genuinely felt bad about taking up one of his tables and was trying to close some of the gap.

"Excellent. I'll get your bread and be back shortly," he said, walking away. He would bet money that she was giving his ass a loving stare.

That's the way the next two hours went. Samantha never devoured her food, but seemed to appreciate each bite of each course Seth brought to her. He kept checking in to make sure she didn't need anything else or to top up her wine glass. She kept finding ways to extend the conversation an extra minute or so. Seth's other tables were getting good service, but Samantha stole the show this evening.

By the time she reached the dessert, reluctantly picking the formaggi over the tiramisu, things were getting heated between them. Her legs, which never made it under the table once during the evening, now featured one of her shoes dangling off a toe. She made borderline pornographic noises when Seth checked how she was enjoying her dessert. He had to take a moment when he returned to the kitchen to discreetly shift his hard cock.

Eventually, all good things had to come to an end. He brought Samantha the bill and returned for the last time with the credit card machine.

"Can I help you with anything else, Samantha?" Seth said. He had been waiting tables long enough that he could have bet his bank account on her response and the look on her face when she gave it.

A slow smile crept across her face as she dealt with the bill. "Oh, I think that'll do...for now," she said.

His bank account would live another day.

As Samantha worked the machine and it printed out receipts, Seth discreetly looked over at his other tables to see if they needed anything while the customer paid. However, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pen magically appear from her red clutch as she scrawled out some numbers on his copy of the receipt. He glanced back down, and she smiled as she slid the piece of paper across the table. He reached down to pick it up and wish her a good evening. That's when her hand rested on top of his. It was the first time she had touched him this evening. He looked at her.

"May I ask you a bit of a personal question?" she said, not moving her hand.

"Of course," Seth said, hoping no one saw her touch him like this. It's not that he would get in trouble, but it might cause drama as customers rarely touched the staff. Seth was a flirt, but a very anti-drama flirt these days.

"Some girlfriends of mine were here a couple of weeks ago, and they gushed about the hot waiter who served them. Who was very charming and flirty."

Some colour crept into Seth's cheeks. Of course, he knew he was good-looking, but hearing people say that to him was always weird.

"Ah, that's why you requested me."

"Yes, I did. And the funny thing is, my friends egged on my friend Rachel, who was very smitten with you, to give you her phone number."

Seth was pretty sure he remembered the table and remembered Rachel. Cute, curvy, and probably in her mid-30s. Redhead. Radiated crazy. Seth knew how to read people and had gotten very good at spotting the crazy.

"Getting involved with customers is never a great idea," he said, trying to be polite. "This is a great job. An unhappy customer has consequences."

"Inside and outside the restaurant," she said, still resting her hand on his.

"Exactly."

"Plus, you could tell she's crazy."

Despite himself, Seth laughed. "Yes, there was that as well."

"I'm not crazy," she said, giving him a meaningful look. Seth could also tell she wasn't, although he wasn't sure what she was. "You should reconsider your policy and text me later. I anticipated that I might have too much wine this evening, and I hate Uber, so I got a room nearby. Handsome company is always welcome."

Seth could feel his cock hardening again and his resolve wavering, but then he noticed something about her hand. And the other piece finally fell into place.

"Ah, but you're married," he said, and glanced down at her hand. The white circle around her finger where she'd taken off her wedding ring. It was strange he hadn't noticed earlier, as it was one of the first things he looked for when serving women. "Crazy husbands are bad too."

She lifted her hand from his and he took the piece of paper. Her number was definitely on it. Her look hadn't changed that much. He did not doubt if he texted that number, he'd have an excellent night.

"Separated, actually. He is probably off on one of his business trips with her now. No worries about jealous husbands, I promise," she said. She shifted in her chair to stand and, on reflex, he offered his hand to help her up. Her smile got larger.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed your evening," he said.

"I hope it's not over yet," she said as she walked past, heading towards the coat check. "Thank you for your excellent service."

She then did a slow walk, giving him all the time in the world to enjoy watching her ass sway as the skirt swished back and forth. She didn't have to look back to know he was watching. She gathered her coat and walked out the door.

He was still standing and processing what had just happened when he felt Ashley come up beside him. She took the receipt from his hand and looked at how much she had tipped. She whistled.

"Did you fuck her on the table and I just missed it?" she said. He gave her a dirty look. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Come on, Romeo. You still have other tables to serve," she said, then glanced down at his waist. "Although if you need a few minutes alone in the bathroom, I can cover for you."

****

"Oh fuck yes," Ashley groaned a few hours later as Seth went to work on her.

They were in the small staff lounge with the other three waiters, the bartender, and some kitchen staff. It had enough space for staff lockers and a couple of tables, which was about it. The kickbacks to the kitchen staff, bartender and hostess had already been divided up. The younger staff were getting ready to head out. It was almost midnight on a Friday night, plenty of time for them to take the tip money burning a hole in their pockets and hit the bars.

Seth and Ashley had different routines. They'd learned from experience not to blow their money just because they were flush at the moment. Today's tips were the rent payment at the end of the month. As the two most senior waiters, they always got the best shifts. As the two best waiters, they also managed to bump the pool up for everyone. No one was giving them crap about not going out and partying on a Friday night.

When they started working together at Mattia three years ago, the attraction between Seth and Ashley was instant. They were both good-looking, in their mid-20s, and not seeing anyone. They immediately became fuck buddies. But after a few months, they could see it getting serious. They had been in the restaurant racket long enough to know that getting involved seriously with a co-worker was a bad idea. In a choice between the job and getting laid regularly, they both chose the job. Finding another fuckbuddy was easy for them; finding another restaurant like Mattia was not.

They stuck to it, although there was the occasional slip-up. Eventually, they started dating other people. But about six months ago, things changed. Ashley's lawyer boyfriend proposed. Seth's semi-serious girlfriend just....vanished. She sent a group text saying she was moving to Asia for a university job, but not which country, let alone which university. Seth was more hurt than he let on to most, but Ashley was ready to kill her.

He'd never admit it, but he loved Ashley and her aggressive defence of anyone who messed with him. It's why she could still convince Seth to continue to perform one vital service for her....foot massages.

Waiting tables for over six hours in four-inch heels was an impressive skill set. She got food out quickly, never got an order wrong, flirted effortlessly, and was upbeat and cheerful. The price for that was daggers stabbing her feet at the end of the evening.

"You could teach your fiance how to do this, you know," Seth said. The staff room was crowded and small, but they carved out a corner of it away from the others. He worked on a knot on the arch of her left foot. She grabbed the arms of the chair she was sitting in and made a noise that didn't sound entirely human.

"He's still a work in progress," she said through gritted teeth. "So she gave you a number, I assume?"

"Yes," Seth said. "I'm still behind you for the month, however."

There was a bulletin board on the wall with people's shifts, some notices to staff and a sheet of paper that was the monthly tally of phone numbers slipped to staff. The owners of Mattia made any number of demands on their staff. For legal reasons, the unspoken one was you had to be very good-looking and charming. The waiters kicked into a pool every month to see who got hit on the most. It mainly was the "Let's give Ashley an extra $100 a month" contest since she got hit on the most by a mile. But Seth had won a few times, and now and then, another waiter would get lucky on a few tables and pull a dark horse run.

However, only a few days remained in the month, and Seth still trailed by a half-dozen phone numbers. Unless he had another table of gay men come in, as he did earlier the year, things were looking bleak.

"Have you texted her yet?" she asked.

"Come on, Ashley. You know I don't do that anymore," he said, which was true. He used to when he was young and stupid. The other staff were perplexed by his attitude. They knew why Ashley didn't respond; she had a fiance and it was an insane risk. But with Seth's looks and build, he was passing up easy opportunities with little risk in their view.

From experience, Seth knew how wrong their beliefs were. However, it was much more straightforward; he liked this job. It was the best waiting job he'd ever had. His co-workers were good, the drama was minimal, his bosses were not total assholes, and he pulled in enough money to live comfortably and not have to deal with roommates. For a waiter in Toronto, he was living the dream. Why potentially blow all that up for a one-night fling?

"Yes, but I also know you haven't gotten laid in months," she said, switching things so that her right foot rested on his lap. "And that is a tragic waste."

"Because I'm such a great guy and deserve happiness?"

"Well, I was going to go with you having a beautiful cock, and it would be a shame if it withered away from lack of use. But sure, we'll go with that great guy bullshit you were just saying," she said, shifting her foot on his lap.

Ashley always did struggle with turning down the flirting. Plus, she was a brat and enjoyed a bit of pain. It's part of the reason she wore heels. And really, provoking him like that and putting her foot where she did...she would have been disappointed if he didn't respond. He pushed in hard on her arch, her ass lifted from the chair, and her knuckles turned white as they gripped the armrests. She managed not to scream.

"Jesus, fuck," she managed to gasp afterwards.

"You deserved that," he said. She grinned.

"Text her," Ashely said, not dropping the bone.

"Ashley...."

"Who here thinks Seth should text the hot blonde from Table 6 who was all over him tonight? Hands up, please," she said. There was unanimous consensus from the remaining staff.

"For fuck sake, Michel, you were in the kitchen all night. You didn't even see her," Seth said.

"Ashley is hot. I trust her judgment if she says a woman is hot," he said. Ashley nodded at the wisdom of his remarks.

"Are you my fucking pimp or something?" Seth groused. He stopped massaging her foot and pulled out the number from his pocket. It had been months since he'd had sex. Samantha was hot, and she was not tripping his finely-tuned crazy radar. She could be lying about being separated, but it didn't feel like it.

"Fuck it," he said, reaching for his phone.

"Atta boy," Ashley said, slipping on some flats with a near-orgasmic look on her face.