Check out the Diner

You stand up from the uncomfortable plastic chair and stretch. Sitting around this greasy workshop staring at the walls for the next several hours sounds like hell, especially with your mind still stuck on everything that didn’t happen last night.

“I’m gonna grab something to eat,” you tell the mechanic. “Diner down the road, right?”

“Yeah, just a block that way,” Miller says without looking up from under your car. “I’ll give you a call when she’s ready. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”

You thank him, grab your phone, and head out into the afternoon sun. The walk is short. The diner is a classic small-town place — faded red booths, checkered floor, the smell of coffee and fried food hanging in the air. A little bell above the door jingles as you step inside.

There are only a few customers scattered around. You slide into a booth near the window and glance at the menu. A moment later, a waitress approaches with a notepad in hand.

She looks about the same age as Loretta — maybe eighteen or nineteen. Her name tag reads Kristen. She’s a little chubby in a soft, cute way, with full cheeks and a rounder figure that her slightly oversized pink uniform doesn’t quite manage to hide. The top is a little loose on her chest, but every time she leans forward or reaches across a table, the fabric pulls tight in interesting ways. Her hips and ass fill out the skirt more than it was probably designed for, and you catch yourself watching the way it shifts when she walks.

“Hey there,” she says with a friendly, slightly shy smile. “What can I get you to drink?”

You order a coffee and tell her you’ll need a minute with the menu. She nods and heads off to grab the pot, giving you a nice view of her ass swaying in that uniform as she walks away. When she returns and leans over to pour your coffee, the neckline of her top dips just enough for you to catch a glimpse of soft cleavage and the edge of a simple white bra.

“Anything look good?” she asks, pen poised over her notepad. Her voice is sweet, with a hint of nervousness, like she’s still getting used to the job.

You order something simple — a burger and fries — and hand the menu back. She smiles again, writes it down, and heads toward the kitchen, giving you another look at the way her uniform clings to her thicker thighs and round ass when she moves.

As she disappears through the swinging doors, your phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.

Miller’s Auto: Got the tire on. Just finishing up the rim. Should be ready in about two hours. I’ll call when it’s done.

You set your phone down and take a sip of coffee, staring out the window at the quiet street.

Part of you is still pissed at yourself for how last night went down. You had a golden opportunity with a hot little farm girl and you blew it by sitting in your room like an idiot. Now you’re here, killing time in some random diner, and the closest thing to action you’ve got is watching a chubby waitress in a too-big uniform bend over tables.

Still… she is cute. And the way that uniform moves on her body every time she leans or reaches…

Kristen comes back a little while later with your food. She sets the plate down in front of you, and this time when she bends over, the hem of her skirt rides up just enough to show a flash of pale thigh above her socks.

“Anything else I can get you?” she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.