Waiter Finger Curls Mga Nobela at Kwento

I huffed. He chuckled at this raising an eyebrow, “up for round two?” he asked. I glanced down at my clean plate, then at his, before giving him a nod. He chuckled raising a hand, “waiter!” he called out, “can we get some more fries here?” **************

She was panting. I slid my fingers underneath them finding her clit, and doing circles on it with some light pressure. She moaned out and covered her mouth. I placed my other hand on hers telling her to put her hands on the table. "Just you and me, remember." she nodded. I continued to touch her until she was moaning loudly, and freely, enjoying my touch. When she was about to explode, I stopped, pulling my hand away and placing my fingers in my mouth. "You are so sweet," I said finally getting to taste her. She looked at me frustrated. "Not yet, baby girl, not until I can feel it completely and join along with you." I watched as she sucked in air, "Breathe baby girl." We sat and talked lik

She was surprised when he returned with a styrofoam plate. “Oh, no! You are through,” the waiter remarked. She smiled softly and answered, “As you can see.” “My bad. Do you mind having some finger foods?” The waiter asked hoping to compensate her with his snacks. “Why not? That will make my day,” Barbara responded cheerfully. “I will be back,” the waiter said and walked away. “Don't take the whole day again,” one of them cautioned him. “Not at all,” he answered and walked on briskly.

His tone was so mean, the waiter froze, his eyes darting between us. Purposefully, Christopher picked up my right hand, intentionally flashing the waiter my wedding ring. He wrapped his other arm around me and then pressed his lips on mine. When he pull away and looked at the waiter, there was a satisfied smile on his face but the murderous look remained in his eyes. I turned to the waiter, "Thank you." "That will be all." I said quickly, trying to ease the tension. When the man left, I placed my hand on Christopher's thigh, "What was that for?"

The heat of the hundreds of bodies in the room made her vision swim slightly. A tall waiter stepped directly to her left. He kept his head respectfully bowed, his sharp features completely hidden in the shadow of the grand staircase. He held out a heavy silver tray bearing two crystal flutes of champagne. Zara reached out. Her manicured fingers wrapped securely around the delicate crystal stem. But the waiter didn't step back. Instead, he leaned in. He deliberately bumped his gloved hand against hers. He moved incredibly fast. Before she could even process the mistake, he shoved a small, completely solid object directly into her palm.

Shaking my head with my hair high in a tight, stylish bun, I crossed my arms on my chest. “Don’t play word games with me, waiter! I said ‘crap’!” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I want to see the cook. Go fetch him!” I made a hand gesture for him to make haste, dangling my fake diamond bracelet. Some people turned to check what was going on, but I didn’t care. This was part of my plan, anyway. The noisier, the better. The waiter, brushed his hand over his shortly-cut hair and confusion appeared on his sweet face. He was older than me, but being the customer, I was the one to give orders.

Author's Pov Freya sighed placing her one palm over her waist and other rested on her swollen stomach as she watched the stubborn man wearing a waiter's clothes taking orders from the customers more like from his fan girls who visited the cafe almost daily just to watch the giant man cladded I a waiter's clothes serving them. His face spared on emotion as he took the order with blank gaze not even acknowledging the open invitations from the swooning girls, and as expected he did what he always do. He raised his hand showing them his ring cladded finger snatching their flirty smiles and gestures. It was obvious from their faces they wanted to leave but too late.

He was getting too close and that was bothering her. "Because I want you to be here," he said. She already knew that but why? Just then their meal arrived. The waiter placed his dish with a hesitant glance in his direction. He was too busy looking at her. "Bon appetite," the waiter bowed before leaving. He finally tore his gaze from her to examine his dish. The bowl before him was brimming with a vibrant red curry that seemed to have been concocted in the depths of hell. Sera swallowed. What she was thinking.

While I stand and wonder how long it will take before I collapse or faint from exhaustion. We take our various seat and watch as the waiters who are also covered behind masks, serve our dishes. Two male waiters walk up to us and begin to place our food on the silver clothed table. Then I noticed something strange. One of the waiters had a familiar looking tattoo on his wrist, I only get glimpses of it when his sleeve rises up a little whenever he places something down on the table. It's a drawing of a three head snake or is it a dragon? A voice in my head tells me something is not right. I observe the actions of the waiters.

“Act normal.” But there was nothing normal about the way his fingers slid up my inner thigh, slowly, deliberately, until he found my bare, soaking core. “Already wet,” he muttered under his breath. “Fucking filthy little thing.” His fingers circled my clit lazily as the waiter approached. I tried to squeeze my legs shut—he stopped me with a quick slap to the inside of my thigh. “Good morning,” the waiter said cheerfully. “Ready to order?” I could barely speak.