She pulls out her note pad, her hand twitching as she wraps her fingers around the cool plastic. “A drink from the bar?” She tugs at her computer swipe card hanging from her white apron; pulling, twisting, unconsciously releasing her inhibitions. Catching his eye again she holds his glare, she feels the intensity growing in her belly, she feels like a raging horny teenager when he looks at her. All she can think about is running her long fingers through his midnight curls, complete sexiness as they dance around his ear lobes. “Do you have Crown?” He doesn’t bring his gaze up from the menu. “Yes, how would you like it, care for a large one tonight?” Blushing she wonders if he caught her sexual undertone, or if it was her own perverted mind running wild. Grinning from ear to ear he looks up, she silently wishes that he caught her drift. “oh … uh, on the rocks, with a side of coke, on the side, the coke on the side.” He caught her drift, she knew it, it vibrated though the air.
She nervously asks them for their dinner orders and to her amazement everyone orders the same thing, even the steaks cooked the same way. Having been in the industry for over a decade she knows how to give excellent service, she makes sure everything is spot on, prompt and efficient. She knows what her guests want before they do and in the back of her mind she relishes in the idea predicting people’s needs.
The wait staff question her relentlessly, “what’s he like, Is he funny, telling jokes?
“Im not star stuck, Frannie. I’m going to let him dine in peace, leave him alone to enjoy the evening.” Deep down she is thrilled to be serving him, she feels on top of the world. She enters their dinner orders into the computer, then walks the quarter-mile to the kitchen to let the chefs know who is at table ten. She wants to make sure the dinners come out perfect, if their steak is under or over cooked it will reflect upon her as a server, in the eyes of her guests and only her guests. She knows once the order is properly placed, the way the items are cooked is beyond her control.
Attending to table maintenance, she notices that he is looking over the wine menu. Suggesting two local wines, grape type and sugar level she says, “I can bring you tasters on both, if you like.” He looks up at her, grabs her hand and caresses it softly. “That would be great. Thank you.” Her smile radiates.
Returning with a local Merlot and a Cabernet she brushes his shoulder with the inside of her forearm as she places the two testers down in front of him.
“The one on the right is the Merlot, left is the Cabernet.” She excitedly tells him.
He mulls them over his taste buds and decides that the Cabernet is too young and the Merlot to full of body, he decides to go with an Australian Shiraz. It wouldn’t be until later in the evening that she would truly know his taste in wine and would agree happily with his choice. She lets them dine in peace and doesn’t bring up the fact that he’s the main act, an obvious assumption she’s sure he’s aware of.