The waitress' side

It's so hard to do the moral thing when you're turned on. And I very much am. I'm not sure what's motivating me - am I jealous of the attention he's giving the waitress, or am I annoyed that he's being an ass to a stranger over something so small? Either way, the moment's ruined for me.

"I can't do this. It's not right--" I start to explain.

He cut me off with, "Fine."

I feel the **** acting on my knees release, and I close them instinctively. The phantom hands on my thighs disappear too.

"You're not annoyed?" I look at him, concerned.

"I'm annoyed, but I'm not here to convince anyone." He sat back in his chair.

That's disconcerting. I get up from the table and move indoors to pay for my drink so I can leave. I'm still as turned on as I was in the chair, making leaving as difficult as walking normally.

I find the waitress and ask to pay for my drinks. I watch her fumble with the machine. I feel bad. He really did a number on her; I just hope putting an end to our 'date' (if you can call it that) will mean that he spares her further ****. Either way, I'm glad to not be part of it.

Wow, I can't wait to get home and release this tension. I rub my thighs together as I wait for the bill to print.

She hands it to me and says something about paying at the table, and so I reluctantly follow her back to the table.

I arrive at the table and place the bill on the table and watch as the waitress takes my seat.

"Oh I'm sorry, there's been a change of plan." He hands the bill back to me.

I take the bill back, confused. I stand next to their table as if awaiting instruction, horny as hell in this stuffy ...uniform?

I look down at the waitress in my seat and my dress.

'What the fuck,' is what I intend to say, but what comes out of my mouth is...