The Waiter

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania    
Center City  
    
I was out with a couple of my co-workers last Friday evening, referred to as girls’ night out. We decided on a nice Italian Restaurant in Philadelphia, Center City.    
    
The waiter approaching our table, was every woman’s fantasy. Adonis, as one of my friends whispered before he got closer.    
   
The waiter erected his presence in front of our table. He placed a menu down in front of all seated patrons.    
   
“Thank you,” my supervisor, who is also the ADON, broke the silent barrier.    
“You’re welcome,” his smooth baritone voice, replied in return.    
   
He looked around the circular white clothed table.    
“Would any one of you beautiful ladies like an appetizer before your dinner is served?”    
   
“The house salad, lite dressing please,” I spoke up.    
   
My other three co-workers duplicated my order.    
For a waiter, he smelled so invigorating.    
The aroma of a man, especially if the scent is an aphrodisiac of any arresting kind, is a sure goner for me    
   
“Is everything all right, ma’am?”    
   
I had to clear my thoughts.    
Picture me sitting down, and this handsome waiter standing in front of me, and remember I have not lifted my eyes to meet his. And the presented picture was very hard not to notice. I cleared my throat.    
   
“I could help you with that.”    
I instantly closed my eyes in shame.    
Please tell me I did not just voice my thoughts.    
   
Four pairs of eyes darted over in my direction for an explanation behind my outburst.    
   
The waiter looked down at my seated attendance. Funny, because, his eyes strayed down my cleavage, and the sheer hip-hugging black dress I had on, and drooping bust line was doing this woman’s body, fierce justice.    
   
“Could I take your orgy...now?” The waiter shook his head. “I…I mean can I take your order now.”    
   
“Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll have enough here to go around.”    
   
The waiter looked around the table.    
Each one of my co-workers flashed the waiter a flirtatious smile.    
   
“I’m sure I would.”    
“Yes, could you bring me something long and wet, to parch my throat.”    
   
The waiter smiled at my request.    
A set of pearly whites was on his menu. He palmed his goatee down.    
   
Umm, a man with facial hair, my wanderlust took control.    
   
“Anything specific.”    
“A Sex on the Beach.”    
“Have you ever been to Italy? I heard the sand there is fit for a Goddess.”    
“I have my Passport ready to go.”    
   
Four pairs of eyes were waiting for the next spoken word.    
   
“Would any one of you beautiful ladies like to join in?”    
“Three or more is definitely a crowd,” I replied.    
   
The waiter looked back down at my bust line, and the swell of my nipples were not backing down. At the moment, this conversation was very uplifting from my standpoint, well at least his point, and no flexibility in sight.    
   
“Back to that Sex on a Beach, would you like anything else with that, beautiful.”    
   
I pretended to act coy, by glancing down at my menu, my peripheral vision, locked in on nothing but a harden future fantasy, sweet mercy, I love the physique of mankind.    
   
“No, I’m satisfied, for now.”    
   
The waiter leaned downward, closer to my ear and whispered, “You will be, I get off at ten.”    
“I will be around,” I whispered backed    
   
The waiter straightened his posture. His eyes glanced back around our table.    
   
“Oh, the drinks are still on the house, regarding the first football win of the season.”    
“I love the city of Brotherly Love.”    
“Yes, on the verge of giving me some sisterly affection later.”    
“I will never decline an invitation with so many solid possibilities.”    
“Would you like to sample the house meatballs?”    
“Just a sample.”    
“Yes, what you can’t digest you can enjoy the rest once we get…once you get home.”    
“I’m sorry, I’m a vegetarian handsome.”    
“Don’t be sorry, I happen to have a weakness for a woman who is selective about the things she allows to satisfy her palate, sexy.”    
   
Light me up like a Christmas tree I thought. This handsome waiter was bringing it and bringing it non-stop.    
   
His dark marble-colored eyes, olive-skin tone complexion, high glossed hair; banded at the nape of his neck, pinned my existence.    
   
I nervously licked by lips, out of habit when I’m nervous.    
   
“A pleasure for me I suppose.”    
   
From my lips to your dick I wanted to say.    
   
I blushed with no shame.    
One of my co-workers cleared her throat.    
   
“I’m hungry girl.”    
I looked at the waiter’s groin; hey I was in the moment.    
“Yeah so am I,” floated out my mouth.    
“You are the only woman here who gets fed by me personally.” He looked down at my lips. “I’m really feeling a beautiful woman who is choosy about the meat she tends to allow to escape pass those succulent lips.”    
   
Am I on some form of a reality show? Am I getting punked here?    
   
If I had known this handsome Italian Stallion was waiting for my presence in an intimate restaurant. I would never have hopped on my treadmill or posted on Deep Underground Poetry. I would had come here alone, and left my co-workers waiting without conscious.    
   
“Beautiful, I will be back with that order. Later, I will show you how to really enjoy the fruit of your labor from off mine.”    
   
The waiter arrogantly strolled away from our table. He looked back and winked at me.    
   
My thong was more satisfied than me.    
   
My three friends looked over at me and just shook their head at my brazenness.    
   
“Girl, you’re going to need CPR much later on.”’    
“As long as his mouth, resuscitates my three holes, I’m all good.”    
“TMI.”    
   
We all laughed.