The Curvy Waitress And the Billionaire French Count (He Wanted Me Pregnant!)
“I didn’t even know he was there. I was squeezed between two tables, reciting a coffee and cake order back to a table full of grinning hipsters and trying to ignore the one staring at my cleavage. Ever wonder what’s going on in your waitress’s head? Mine looked like this: - I told that guy we have the pecan pie but now I’m not sure and he won’t tip if I’m wrong.
- That guy is still staring at my breasts.
- If I don’t make another $47 by Friday I’m not going to make rent.
I wonder... who’s standing behind me? didn’t even make the list. And then I heard the guys on the table to my left. I only heard one word, ass, but I only needed to.
My rear gets a lot of comments, especially when it’s squeezed into the hideous pink and white waitress uniform we have to wear at the diner. It’s part of the 50s retro-cool thing that allows the boss to charge double what any other place would for mediocre coffee and limp salad.MoreLess
- That guy is still staring at my breasts.
- If I don’t make another $47 by Friday I’m not going to make rent.
I wonder... who’s standing behind me? didn’t even make the list. And then I heard the guys on the table to my left. I only heard one word, ass, but I only needed to.
My rear gets a lot of comments, especially when it’s squeezed into the hideous pink and white waitress uniform we have to wear at the diner. It’s part of the 50s retro-cool thing that allows the boss to charge double what any other place would for mediocre coffee and limp salad.MoreLess
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