Chapter 31: Horny Waitress? A Confrontation
The door swung shut behind David with a bang that swallowed itself in the noise — the jukebox was running Blinding Lights by The Weeknd, that synth-soaked pulse bleeding through the walls of the bar like a heartbeat that had no intention of slowing down.
He stood just inside the threshold and let his eyes adjust.
The place was more than he’d expected. Not fancy , nowhere near it .
The furniture was mismatched wood and worn leather, the kind that had been sat in a thousand times and had molded itself to accommodate.
A row of booths lined the far wall, most of them occupied. Groups hunched close over their drinks, laughing at something David couldn’t hear above the music, leaning into each other with that easy comfort of people who came here often enough to call it theirs.
The lighting was the first thing that told the real story of this world. It wasn’t steady. It never was, anymore — not since the Awakening had fractured the power grid into something unreliable and patchwork, a system held together by, as some would say, duct tape and the prayers of technicians who barely slept.
The bulbs overhead flickered in slow, irregular pulses, dimming just long enough to make the shadows lunge before pulling back to something resembling normal.
David stepped further inside.
’Where is she? Argh~ how am I suppose to find her in a crowdy bar like this?’
He scanned the room with what he hoped looked like casual interest — just another man walking into a bar, taking stock. The booths. Then the counter, and right then, he saw her.
She was stepping out from behind the counter when he spotted her, a tray of three drinks balanced in one hand, moving between tables with the ease of someone who’d worked this floor a hundred times before.
He’d only ever seen her dressed for the office. Put together, buttoned up, every line of her deliberate and contained.
This was not that.
The t-shirt she had on was nothing special — plain cotton, short sleeves — but it had absolutely no interest in doing its job.
Her breasts pressed full and heavy against the fabric, the kind of weight that drew the eye and held it, and below that the simple denim apron tied at her waist only served to frame the outward sweep of her hips, that deep generous curve that the loose shirt below the knot couldn’t hide even if it tried.
She was smiling at some customers who were yelling and bantering at each other about something David couldn’t make out above the music, her attention fully on her work.
’My god...I mean I knew she had massive breasts...but I didn’t think they were this big.’
His was fully on her.
He stood just inside the door, not quite moving, watching her cross the floor until finally, he attained himself back, bringing himself to step forward.
David crossed the floor and took a stool at the counter.
She was still working the room — laughing at something one of the customers said, easy and unhurried about it — and he watched her without pretending he wasn’t. When she finally looped back behind the counter and clocked him sitting there, her stride broke for just a beat.
"David." A small smile, surprised. "You’re here already?"
"You say that like it was a long walk."
"I figured you’d take your time." She set the empty tray down. "Did you get it?"
He reached into the bag and placed the package on the counter between them.
Her eyes dropped to it. Then went very still.
The sticker was right there on the front — the logo, that unmistakable silhouette of a woman’s legs spread open — and the color that climbed up Mrs. Walbury’s neck happened fast. She snatched the package off the counter and shoved it below the bar in one motion, eyes cutting sideways to check who was watching.
"Are you crazy?" Her voice dropped to a hard whisper. "You just walked in here with that out in the open?"
David blinked at her.
’She knew exactly what it was.’
The realization settled in quietly, turning itself over. She’d known there was a chance he’d see it — that whoever she sent would see it — and she’d sent him anyway. That wasn’t an accident. That was a choice. He held her gaze for a moment, reading nothing certain in it, and felt the question form at the back of his mind like smoke.
’...Perhaps I should use Oath Bound Gaze on her...just to find out exactly why she’d purposely send me to get a sex toy. Or rather, to draw out an answer.’
"I mean," he said, leaning an arm on the counter.
"it’s just a sex toy. Why are you so worked up about it?"
Her face went full red. She leaned in across the bar, close enough that he could see the exact moment she decided to interrogate him.
"How do you know what it is?" Her eyes searched his face. "Did you open it?"
He laughed and waved a hand. "That’s a long story. But look ..." he nudged his chin toward the package.
"... it’s still sealed. You can check."
She glanced down, not entirely convinced, mouth still tight with irritation.
"Waitress!"
She didn’t move. Still watching him.
"Waitress!"
Her jaw set. "Coming!" She straightened, then turned back to David and pointed one finger directly into his chest.
"You and me are not done." Flat. Final. "My shift ends soon. Don’t go anywhere."
She was already moving toward the kitchen.
"Counting on it," David said, to her back.
***
The next few hours passed the way bar hours do — slow and loud at the same time. The jukebox cycled through. The crowd thinned by degrees. And when Mrs. Walbury finally untied her apron and set it on the counter, the bar had quieted enough that the silence between them would actually mean something.
She walked over and sat down across from him.
The confrontation had arrived.
