59

A few weeks later.

"Here you go, our special pasta Dran meal." I served the plate to a couple sitting on the first table. It had been three weeks since I started working at Hooked on the waitress. It was a restaurant where we served food wearing swimsuits that were form fitting and showed a lot of cleavage.

At first I was sceptical taking the job then when I heard that the pay was $50 per hour and I could work for eight hours a day I hopped on it straight away.

The best part of it was Daniel and I had moved to this side of town because his new job at a different print company was an hour drive away and the restaurant was a fifteen minutes drive from home.

Speaking of Daniel, there he was sitting on one of the tables, pretending to look through the menu as though his eyes were not heavily fixed on me. I was heading back to the kitchen when I stopped in front of him for a brief second, "sir, what will you be having?"

"Your best meal," he lowered his voice, "you."

I rolled my eyes "chee