Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms - Charles Austen [91]
“The specials are on the inside front cover of the menu,” Ms. Nuckeby said as we sat, then grinned at me. “I recommend the sauerkraut dogs.” I returned her smile. “One note,” she continued, “we’re all out of vanilla ice cream. There’s been a run for some reason. Hope that’s okay.”
“Damn,” Ms. Waboombas said, rubbing a hand on my buttocks. “And you promised to spread vanilla aaaaall over me.”
“We still have chocolate,” Ms. Nuckeby offered, seemingly unaffected and ever helpful. A woman had grabbed my ass, and she didn’t seem the least perturbed. Was that a clue to the local etiquette, or just her knowing it was all a joke. My head spun.
“Chocolate’s always better,” Waboombas said delightedly, and sat beside the pastor, who squeaked in fear.
“Your server will be along shortly,” Wisper said. “Her name is Petal.”
“Petal Nuckeby?” I asked.
“Family business,” Wisper smiled. “She’ll take your drink orders.“ She looked pointedly at me. “Though I assume you’ll be wanting milk?” she asked me, rather seductively. “Not in overabundant quantities or anything.” She glanced down meaningfully at her perfectly proportioned breasts, then back up to me. “But normal amounts of milk.” She paused, staring at me a moment to see if steam exited any of my pores. “Just enough, and no more.”
Pssssssss…
“Just enough, and no more,” I repeated, breathily, suddenly overwhelmed by her.
“I’ll be happy to get that for you,” she said, almost as breathily.
“Oh, happy day,” Waboombas stuck in, scowling a bit into her menu. Her expression made me nervous.
“So,” Ms. Nuckeby said. “If you’ll excuse me.” Then she spoke more to me than the others, “I have some things to do in the storage room.”
She paused.
“Which is just beside the restrooms,” she added.
Another pause.
“Customers often go in there by accident,” she continued. “And we understand. It’s not a problem. It happens.” She paused again and looked meaningfully at me. “Because it’s right next to the restrooms, so it’s very easy to make that mistake. Thinking the storage room— right next door to the restrooms—is also a restroom. Which it’s not. It’s a storage room. So that’s where I’ll be.” She paused. “In the storage room.”
“Which is right next to the restrooms,” Waboombas said with sinister intent, still staring at her menu but seemingly seeing something else.
“If anyone needs me,” Ms. Nuckeby said. “Right.”
Ms. Nuckeby stared at me for a moment longer, then smiled, shifted once nervously, and darted off.
I watched her go, feeling warmer all-of-a-sudden, and began to vibrate anxiously in my chair.
Ms. Waboombas grinned at me darkly.
“So, uh…” she said, “you gonna be heading to the restroom, then? I hear it’s next to the storage room.”
“In a minute,” I said, avoiding her taunt.
She looked momentarily disappointed, then regained her smile and suddenly wiggled closer to the pastor than she needed to. He scrunched over as far as he could toward the wall, extremely put out by the thought of being in contact with her bare, black skin, though he tried not to show it. I sat opposite him, and Morgan was sitting next to me, staring at Ms. Nuckeby’s ass again as she hurried away. He was about to fall from our booth while leaning out to catch the last possible fleeting glimpse of her before she rounded the corner. I shoved him to make sure he did.
“Heeeey!” he said, after hitting the carpet.
I stood up beside him and prepared to follow Ms. Nuckeby.
“What’s with you?” Morgan demanded, climbing back into his seat. “She walks around like that—she’s gonna get ogled! It’s part of the deal!”
“It’s