Epilogue 7 - Bianca's Secret Menu

Bianca Granger still couldn't get used to seeing her name in gold on the front window.

BIANCA'S BISTRO

Every time she passed it, she smiled — a real one, not the brittle customer-service grin she'd worn for years while waiting tables at other people's restaurants. This one was hers. The music, the lighting, the wine list, the staff. Every woman here owed no one anything. No catcalls, no gropes, no condescension. It was a house of safety and pride — and good food.

The lunch rush had ended an hour ago, and the place had that soft, contented hum she loved: clinking dishes from the back, faint jazz through the speakers, and the muted laughter of her all-female kitchen staff. Bianca sat in her small office tucked behind the pantry, doing inventory on her laptop. Or pretending to. Mostly, her thoughts were elsewhere.

She leaned back, twirling a pen between her fingers. The soft scent of roasted garlic and herbs lingered in her hair. She liked that — smelling like her work. It reminded her she had built something, that she'd turned the mess of her early life into something solid, something worth being proud of.

And yet… she knew this wasn't her real purpose. Not really.

The spreadsheet blurred a little. She smiled to herself, the corners of her lips curling. Her real purpose wasn't on this screen, and it wasn't in this kitchen. Her real purpose was at home.

Joey.

Her chest ached a little at the thought of him — the way it always did when she'd been away too long. Even now, after everything they'd been through, she still got butterflies thinking about going home to him. She didn't like to think of it as an obsession. It wasn't that. It was devotion. Gratitude, even. He'd changed her life. He'd changed her.

Not in some sort of weird, magical-transformation way. No, that kind of stuff didn't exist, at least not in their world. Maybe Elorae's world had that kind of power, but here on regular-old-Earth the changes were more practical. Joey hadn't just put the money up for the bistro, he hadn't just been a "no strings attached" investor who expected nothing in return, he'd shown her a new way of life, a true way of life. Before she met him, it had never occurred to Bianca that a person's real purpose could be to ensure someone else's sexual gratification. Had someone explained it to her, pointed it out before she met Joey, Bianca would have scoffed.

But she couldn't deny the truth. The man she loved more than anything wasn't just the source of her affection, he was the source of her purpose. And not a day had gone by since she realized this truth had she felt one ounce of regret.

There was a knock at the door. One of her waitresses, a young woman named Miri, poked her head in.

"Sorry, Ms. Batista. Just letting you know the dinner prep's going smooth. You want us to start the evening playlist?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Bianca said with a warm smile. "And tell Kim she's doing a great job on desserts today."

When Miri left, Bianca stared at the door a moment longer, feeling something close to pride. No one here ever looked scared. No one flinched when a man laughed too loudly. No one got cornered in the walk-in fridge. That was her rule. Her promise. She'd made sure of it.

Still, she glanced at the clock — 4:42. Just over an hour until she could close up her laptop, step out into the cool evening, and drive home to him.

Him. Joey. She couldn't even think his name without getting a little wet.

It was a constant battle for Bianca to concentrate on work, to be diligent on making sure she was turning a profit. Sure, Joey had ensured that she could run the restaurant at a loss indefinitely with no consequences, but she wanted it to grow, to thrive, on its own merit. The bistro had everything going for it. The only weakness it had was Bianca's own wandering mind. Closing her eyes, Bianca leaned back in her comfortable, high-backed chair and let her imagination take her.

It was late in the evening. She was a waitress in her own restaurant, Bianca's Bistro. Only it wasn't Bianca's Bistro, not in the way she had built the company. Gone were the classy but attractive outfits the servers wore, long black pants, form-fitting tops. Instead waitresses were wearing even trashier versions of the Hooters outfits, but instead of Hooters on the front of the white top, it had her own name, Bianca's. It was the dinner hour, and normally the restaurant would be busy, but there was only one customer in the establishment.

Joey.

__

Feeling butterflies in her stomach, she approached the table.

"What c'n I getcha, babe?" she asked, her voice coming out in an airy, bimbo-like quality. She glanced over at her reflection in the glass pane next to Joey's table. Long blonde hair, huge tits, legs for miles. Oh yeah, she was going to get a good tip.

"I don't know, sweet cheeks," Joey said, putting down the menu. "What's good?"

"Yer looking pretty good right now," Bianca giggled, her huge titties bouncing. "But I could get them to fry you up a real tender steak. I'm thinking about something thick and meaty."

"I've already got something thick and meaty," Joey answered, adjusting himself in his seat, spreading his legs wide. "How about something sweet, like candy?"

"Oh! Then I've, like, got just what you need right here!" Bianca answered, falling to her knees and crawling under the table. As she pulled his erection from his pants and slipped it into her mouth, she was filled with pride. The other girls had to wait until after the customer ate before they got their tip. Bianca was an expert, though, and couldn't wait to brag that before he'd even ordered, her customer had slid his tip right between her lips.

Bianca opened her eyes and licked her lips. Moments like those were distracting, but it didn't them any less fun. It revealed something about herself, something she hadn't thought of in the past. She had built Bianca's Bistro to support women, to give them the same life that had saved her when she was younger. Most restaurants were filled with predatory behaviours and unsafe coworkers. Bianca took care of her girls.

But for Joey she'd change it all in a heartbeat.

If the only way she could take care of his sexual needs was to dress up and whore herself out like in that fantasy, the only thing that would slow her down would be the question of how quickly she could rewrite the dress code.

Luckily, Joey wasn't that kind of man. Still, it was fun to imagine.

She glanced at the clock. All caught up, time to spare. Time to indulge. Her eyes slipped shut.

The cool store lights flickered on. All night she'd stood in the dark, encased in her display case. Today would be her day.

She could still remember the feeling of rolling off the assembly line, strange hands touching her silicone body, adorning her in her pink dress, placing her in the shipping crate. The time in the shipping container, too, was a vivid memory. Long, boring days waiting for the light, waiting for her Master.

That's how she had begun to think of him. Master. She had never met him, but she held his image clearly in her artificial mind. He was short, he was slight, he was perfect. She even knew his name.

Joey Granger.

And today was the day. She could feel it in every part of her custom-ordered body. Had he taken his time when he submitted the order, thinking through every detail of his new doll? Or was it an impulsive rush, quickly selecting things that tickled his fancy on the website as they popped up? Would she be his one and only, or would she be added to a growing collection?

She didn't care. As long as she was able to take care of his needs. Her life, her future, lying on Joey Granger's bed as he thrust into her, grunting, sweating over her factory molded frame, kissing her cool, lifeless lips. That was what she was made for. And soon he would arrive, and soon she could begin her perfect life.

Bianca's eyes snapped open. Her breath was coming in short pants, her heart was racing. That fantasy was a common one, one she loved. On nights where Joey was with one of his other girls, Bianca often found herself laying in the dark imaging being nothing more than an implement for his pleasure, something he'd chosen, not for her personality, nor for any affection she may feel for him, but for what he could get from her.

It made her toes curl.

She closed her eyes again.

Fantasies began to come fast and hard as she slipped her hand to her thigh, slowly sliding it up her skirt.

She was on the screen of a television, naked, masturbating. Watching her was Joey, a bottle of hand cream and a box of tissues at hand. Soon he would reach climax, soon she would have served her purpose.

Another.

The air was hot and thick. The music pumping loudly, her body moving sexily to the beat. Behind her was Joey, seated on a velvet cushioned chair. She could feel his hot, stiff, cock pressing into her and it fills her with excitement. Joey wasn't just her favourite customer, he was the only man in the club for whom the "no touching" rule didn't apply. She was dressed like sex, purple glittery bra, fishnets, all for him.

And that night he was all hers.

Her hand slipped deeper into her, she began to moan.

The fire behind her was roaring. From her position on her knees she was staring up into the face of the man she loved. Joey Granger, who was smiling down on her benevolently. She had chosen to wear his favourite that day: black lacy bra, matching panties, garter belt and stockings. Nothing was too good for her man. He grunted as he shoved his cock between her breasts. Already, Bianca's mouth was watering as she imagined it sliding in and out of her cleavage, catching it on its crest in her mouth. This life that she had chosen, wonderful days filled with love and pleasure, was more than anything she could have ever dreamed of.

And as he reached his fulfilment and began to spray on her face, she wondered if that was what heaven felt like.

Just before she reached her own orgasm, Bianca pulled her finger from her skirt, shaking from being so close to the edge. The image of his eyes staring down at her stayed with her for a long moment after she **** herself back to work. Each one of those fantasies, which threatened to flood her conscious mind at all times of the day, would be pieces of a life she would offer to Joey in a second if he were to want it. She loved him so much, had never loved anyone or anything as much as she loved him. But it was more than that. She was his in every sense of the word. What Joey needed, she gave. No questions asked.

She tapped her pen against the desk, humming softly under her breath, steadying herself. There was still work to be done.

Her phone buzzed with a text.

Joey: Leaving soon?

She bit her lip, smiling as she typed back.

Bianca: Soon. I'll bring leftovers.

Joey: Don't bother. Just bring yourself.

Her heart did a little somersault. She stared at the message, at the words, and her whole body felt lighter.

She finished the inventory, closed her laptop, and stood, brushing invisible crumbs from her skirt. She opened the office door and stared out at the dining room glowing with warm light — candles lit, tables set, women moving with calm confidence. It was everything she'd ever wanted the world to be. He'd given that to her.

She switched off the desk lamp and whispered to herself,

"Tomorrow, I'll start on the new menu."

Then, smiling, she added softly,

"But tonight… I take care of my man."

And with that, Bianca Granger — restaurateur, protector, and the luckiest woman in the city — walked out into the fading light, her heels clicking smartly on the tile as the door swung shut behind her.