Serviced with a Smile By Sydney Gale

I've always had a thing for older men. In the place I work, there's lots of them, all with alot of money and awful wives. I have a favourite customer, he's very fine and one day I hope he'll be mine.

Of course, every waitress has her favorite customers, as I have mine. In this upscale restaurant I work at, one stands out among all others. Not that Mr. Dalton would want anything to do with a twenty-two year-old waitress; for he is a fine and distinguished older gentleman who’s only fault is his hag of a wife. My Mr. Dalton tips generously and, well, makes me horny as hell.

Tonight is Thursday and I know he will be here as he is each and every Thursday. Ah, right on time.

“Good evening Mr. Dalton,” I tell him as he takes his usual table. “ I will get your Manhattan, sir.”

“Thank you, Candace,” he says as he always does and asks me how I am doing this evening. I tell him I am fine and, as always, pleased to see him.

“Your drink, sir,” I put the Manhattan in front of him. "Will your wife be joining you as usual", I ask and our hands brush lightly as he lifts his drink. He nods and winks and I notice that he is not wearing a tie tonight and his tanned skin looks delicious against the white of his dress shirt. I think he must golf.

I leave him to attend to another customer. As I walk past his table, where he sips his drink and the light catches the gray at his temples. (I am so pathetic. Every time I look at the man, I see something…I sigh. I always sigh.)

He waves me over.

“Candace?”

“Yes, sir,” I notice his drink is still half full and wonder what he needs me for. Perhaps he wants to tell me he is leaving his wife and we celebrate by ripping our clothes off and fucking on the table.

“A woman’s opinion, if you wouldn’t mind,” he says and opens a long black velvet box. It is lined in white satin and is graced by an elegant bracelet of garnets strung from one end of the box to the other.

“It’s exquisite!” I breathe, for it is truly lovely.

“Do you think she will like it?” he asks me and I tell him -- how could she possibly not? He laughs in that throaty, dirty way that makes me remember why I am a woman and let my hand linger a moment on his shoulder. I can smell him and feel the heat it has caused. Mr. Dalton tends to make me squirm.

“Damn!” he exclaims as the bracelet falls to the floor.

“Let me,” I say and reach down to retrieve it for him, but it has tumbled under the table. It is not becoming of me to crawl under there to get it for him, but I do and giggle to myself thinking, what if Mrs. Dalton were to walk up right now. The tablecloth is long and I say quietly, “It’s dark under here!” I hear him laugh gently and apologize.

Suddenly he clears his throat and stands. My stomach curls. Mrs. Dalton is fast approaching the table.

“Good evening, my dear,” he clears his throat again, and I assume that is for my benefit. What the hell is he expecting me to do? This bracelet is obviously a gift and how would it be for me to jump up from under the table and say SURPRISE! Get a load of this Mrs. D! I have to scoot over to the other side so I might avoid getting kicked with her clodhopper feet.

I wonder how to get myself out of this predicament, but find myself much more interested at what is on the other side of the tablecloth, between Mr. Dalton’s legs. The curiosity is killing me and creating a veritable slick in my panties. Perhaps, if I just…

“Garcon’” Mr. D. says. “Perhaps another cocktail for myself and a vodka martini for Mrs. Dalton? Candace seems to be off somewhere.”

“Yes, sir, sir!” Bruce the ass-kisser rushes off no doubt wondering where I am. I instantly make a mental note to thank Mr. Dalton for losing this job for me; not that it’s really his fault. My hand reaches for the tablecloth on his side. Perhaps I shall take my revenge in advance for my imminent dismissal from Carrillo’s.

I feel Mr. Dalton stiffen as I put my hand on his crotch and he ejects a little laugh in Mrs. Dalton’s direction. He makes no effort to remove my hand from his cock; then again, what can he do with his scarecrow wife rattling on about her tough day at the Ladies Garden Club Luncheon.

His belt buckle is undone and his zipper slides down quietly. I’d pegged him for a boxers man and indeed he is, lucky me. Easy access.

He is already hot and hard, for he knows what is about to happen. Serves him right for giving that battleaxe such a beautiful gift, when I would give him the world and not harp on him.

His cock pops out of his boxers so nicely and I am not surprised to find it so large in my hot and trembling little hand. It seems that my Mr. D. is indeed most generous in every way. I feel him squirm slightly as I run my finger nails up and down the length of him. I take him in one hand and stroke up and down, gently at first, I squeeze his balls with the other.

His legs spread for me as Mrs. Dalton drones on about another old hag at the flower party. I doubt she is paying any attention to him as she flags Bruce down again for another drink. I think I would love for this man to drink of me. I put his cock in my mouth.

“Ahem!” he jerks and clears his throat as I slide him down mine.

“What did you say?” she asks, but does not let him speak. She is off to the races again with her incessant blathering.

I enjoy licking his hardness up and down like a lollipop and get wetter as he reaches under the table and puts his hot, sweaty hand to the back of my head. I kiss the tip of his cock, and find a drop has escaped. I rub it around with my thumb and lick it as if it were an ice cream cone.

His wife seems somewhat annoyed and asks what he is fidgeting with. He doesn’t bother to reply as he grabs the back of my head and pushes himself into my mouth.

Swirling my tongue around his cock like this is driving me crazy and it’s all I can do not to jump out and get up on the table and straddle his face. Appetizer Mr. D?

I hear Bruce sashay over and ask to take their order. Mrs. Dalton says she’s not ready to order but would like another drink, “jush like the lasht, but not so much Goddamn vermouf!” Poor Bruce! He must be wondering where the hell I am. No worries with him. He’d probably give me a high five!

They haven’t ordered yet, how can they? She doesn’t shut her mouth long enough and he’s getting a royal blowjob from his waitress. I pull away and take a little time on his balls. Rolling them around in my hand and sucking each one gently as I run my hand up and down his cock, slick with my spit. God, he is hard! If it were physically possible under this table, I'd be on my knees backing up to that hard cock.

He is squirming more and giving the old lady an obligatory, “mm hmm” and “uh huh” every once and a while between her yapping and sucking down Martinis.

As I flick my tongue along the underside of his cock, Mr. D. removes his hand to from my head to cover his mouth. I have found a sensitive spot here, and relish my discovery. His cock pulses to the rhythm of his quickening heartbeat. I wonder if his coughing and throat clearing will be enough to cover up the jerks of pleasure from below.

My pussy is burning to be touched and I know it is slick and hot and ready to be fucked, but to do so would almost be impossible, yet I am near the brink of orgasm as I suck his cock back into my mouth and take him down my throat. I reach below the hem of my waitress uniform and slide one hand into my panties. Two fingers run down the groove of my pussy and slide deep inside. My hand is wet with my excitement as I bring my fingers to rest on my clit. I try to go slowly with myself and take my time with Mr. D, but I am so incensed, I start to rub myself wildly as I move my head from side to side tossing his cock from cheek to cheek.

His hand slides slowly back under the table to caress my face. It is sweaty as I imagine the rest of him to be. I can tell he loves my work. What a trip it would be to look up at him right now! Oh what a sight he must be. I giggle to myself as the Mrs. excuses herself to use the “bashroom”. I hate to finish this up so quickly, but it is time.

I don’t have to worry so much about noise now and I take advantage of it, slurping and sucking his cock, running my hand up and down, along with my lips, like one big cocksucking vacuum until he makes a throaty noise and grabs the back of my head. I cum hard and my hips buck so hard I hit the table and can hear crystal clinking and falling over. Then, Mr. Dalton’s body jerks. I put my other hand on his belly because I want him to give me as much of his orgasm as I can possibly take. His stomach contracts as he empties all his tension into my eager mouth.

I stroke and squeeze his inner thigh gently and swallow with relish. How sweet he tastes.

On impulse I remove my warm, sopping panties and place them on his leg. As I pick up the glittering bracelet, I take a quick look to make sure no one will see me come out from under the table.

“This what you’re looking for?” I toss the bracelet on the table and he grabs it as he scrambles to zip up and put himself in order. I look around to make sure no one is watching and rub my slippery fingers over his lips. He licks them and smiles. I take out my order pad.

“Just in time, Mrs. Dalton!” I say sweetly as she lumbers over. “Would you like an appetizer this evening? We have escargot in a delicate cream sauce,” I say and Mr. D. shakes his head and laughs. I think he finally appreciates me as more than just his waitress.

“Whatsh sho funny?” she says. “I wanna order now, heh,” she attempts a half-assed smile as though she is privy to our joke.

They eat and I watch from the waitress station as he mistakes my panties for a napkin. They go quickly into his pocket. He smiles to himself and I know my scent and taste are upon his lips.

He smiles at me as they leave and we both blush.

I walk to the table after they have gone. I hesitate, but open the little leather book that holds my tip and there is nothing there.

I fear I may have lost my favorite customer.

Next to his dinner plate lays a neatly folded napkin. Beneath it I find the long, black velvet box that I know contains the exquisite bracelet. As I open it, the garnets smile up at me and a slip of paper falls out.

“Until next Thursday…. D”