Becky offers to help

"Here," Becky said, offering Abbie the napkin.

Abbie didn't react very quickly, though. Her thoughts were still on Jake, whose fingers had just left her -- and on the cream which was pooling on the bottom of her shirt and her skirt, soaking through, and making her crotch damp with more than her own natural wetness.

"Can I help?" asked Becky.

Surely, the waitress meant to help clean the table. But Abbie looked her in the eye, and said, "yes, please," as she pushed herself backward into the back of the seat, and moved her arms to her sides as if to imply, help with my wet clothes.

Becky began to mop the table. Abbie kept looking at her, though Becky did not return the gaze. In her eagerness to do right by the customer, her naivete about being new to the job, and her mild confusion over what was a slightly odd scenario unfolding, Becky made the somewhat surprising choice to move from wiping the table to trying to wipe the cream from Abbie's shirt.

Becky leaned over the table, and aimed to pat the napkin against Abbie's stomach. On her way there, she grazed the surface of Abbie's right breast, sending a small shiver of excitement through Abbie. Becky attempted to ignore the brief physical contact there, and focused on the wet part of Abbie's shirt.

Jake just watched as Becky, completely oblivious to his own games, as well as overwhelmed by the entire episode taking place, aggressively looked to sop up the spilled cream from Abbie's clothes. Becky dabbed and wiped at her shirt, and then at her skirt, not realizing how close she was to Abbie's crotch.

Abbie just sat back and let it happen -- not totally motionless like a rag doll, but not making any determined effort to stop Becky, to participate in cleaning, or to take over the job now that it had gotten more intimate.

Becky dabbed more at Abbie's skirt. Her fingers pressed into her crotch, unintentionally, and Abbie let out another small squeal and wiggled her lower body in her seat. This made Becky more than aware of where her fingers had gotten to, and she quickly stood up. "Oh, okay then. I think you're probably good. Sir, are you good? We're all good now, right? Right. I'll just go ... um ... back to work, I think. Maybe there's something else I should do. Okay, I'm going." As she spoke, she awkwardly walked away, bumping into the next table, spinning around, and then disappearing into the kitchen.