The Wait

A solo dinner heats up when the waiter makes it clear he doesn't just want to serve food.

The Fox Tail is a dimly lit restaurant with small booths, and quiet jazz playing in the background; the perfect setting for a romantic meal for two. That’s why I picked it for my anniversary dinner with Joe. It would be even more perfect if he hadn’t decided that he wanted to get some after-hours workouts with his personal trainer. Sure, he was a hunk, but it’s such a cliche. It’s only been a month since we broke up, but it’s so hard to get a booking at this place. I’m also too stubborn to pass up the opportunity, and I’m confident enough to have dinner on my own. I thought alcohol might be the way through my bachelor dinner, but as it turns out, there’s something else keeping my attention tonight.

He welcomes me to my table, introduces himself, lists off the specials and asks if I’d like anything to drink. I don’t actually hear any of the specials or the question; I’m too distracted by his tight-fitting white shirt with more buttons undone than would seem acceptable, showing off his dark skin beneath and just enough chest hair to leave me wondering if it carries on down to his belly button. After a few seconds of slightly awkward silence, he snaps me out of my trance, “You look like a white wine kind of guy, we have a wonderful white Rioja, I’ll get you a large glass.” His confidence stuns me. I want to run my hands through the black curls on his hair, but before I find myself acting without thinking, I nod and respond, “That sounds perfect.”

Over the course of the evening, he waits on me diligently. He spends longer with me than any other customer, helped by the fact that all the other customers are couples who don’t want to make conversation with their waiter. I learn that Nico is Greek, has a cat named Piccolo, loves brie and olives, and is notably single. My final course is an almond crème brûlée. Cooked to perfection, which is no surprise given how delicious the food has been so far. The caramelised sugar on top cracks with a slight tap of my spoon, the cream holds its shape as I take it to my mouth, and I unconsciously let out a little moan as the flavours hit me all at once. I’m startled when I hear Nico from behind me say quietly, “A moaner, I’ll remember that.”

I can feel my cheeks flush instantly, and I can only hope that the dim lighting hides it. I’m just grateful that I’m sitting down, I don’t think even the lighting would hide the erection stretching my trousers right now.

I manage to compose myself. “Is that something you say to all your customers, hoping for a bigger tip?”

“It’s not the size of the tip I’m interested in. All my other customers have left. Once you’ve finished moaning over your crème brûlée, I’ll ask you if you want a coffee or an aperitif. You will say no and ask for the bill, because after that my shift is over. Then I can wait on you in the way I’ve wanted to since you first stepped foot in here.”

My heart is racing, and I’m trying my best to stay composed. I casually pull out my wallet, take out my credit card and hold it up for him. Nico wastes no time in processing the payment, I have no idea how much I've paid, and walking me out of The Fox Tail. I don’t have time to call for a taxi before he’s pushing me up against the wall of a dark street corner, his hand sliding around the back of my neck, his lips firmly pressing against mine, and my breath quickening. My head spinning, partly from the alcohol but more from the fact that I had never expected my solo anniversary dinner night to turn into this. He smells incredible, a cedarwood scent that I inhale with every breath as his tongue finds its way to mine. I pull him in close so that my cock can press against his thigh, and his can press against mine. I can feel the warmth radiating even through his trousers; it’s thick, and it’s long enough that I know I’m going to be impatient about seeing how much I can take in my mouth later. I’m close to stripping him down right then and there, but before things can go too far, I break away from him.

“There’s something important you should know about me before this goes any further. I hate brie, and I’m not all that fond of olives either. But if you can accept me with those flaws, shall we get a taxi back to mine?”

Nico smirks, reaches into his pocket, and a second later, I see a set of headlights flash. He takes my hand and walks me in the direction of his car. He opens the door for me, and at first, I think he’s being a gentleman. But as I go to step into the car he pulls me back, I can feel the length of him against my ass, he wraps one arm around my chest and the other winds it’s way around my waist so he can lightly squeeze my cock. He guides me into the seat, gently closes the door and joins me on the driver's side. I lean over to taste him again but he pushes me firmly back into my seat; his hand trails down my chest and my stomach, before he calmly places it on the key and starts the engine with a satisfied grin on his face.