Your Table Is Ready Novels & Stories

I asked him now, telling him about the drink. He left and I got up. I walked around, looking at the objects. Gray, white, black, and some wood over there. The table was very modern: glass and beautiful stone, it looked like a work of art, but at the same time simple, because it only had a set of plates, cutlery, and glasses for two people.

There, in front of her, was Xander—standing proudly beside a beautifully set table, his eyes bright with anticipation. The table was more than just dinner; it was a gesture, a work of care and thoughtfulness. Candles flickered gently, their soft glow dancing on the delicate tablecloth. The wine glasses sparkled, and the meal—elegantly prepared—sat invitingly in the center. Scarlett could feel the effort he’d put into it, and it made her heart swell.

“Anything else I can get you?” “Thanks, Sofia but I think we’re good for now,” Maggie answered. “You go ahead and get ready to cash out once the Everhart table is done. It’s almost time to close.” “Thanks, boss! See you bright and early!” Sofia grinned and her shiny, black ponytail whipped around as she turned to go.

Not the comfortable kind of silence, but the heavy, sharp-edged kind that seemed to sit on everyone’s shoulders. The table was laid out in its usual grandeur. Silver trays steamed with fresh yam porridge, grilled plantains, fluffy scrambled eggs, and freshly baked rolls. A glass jug of zobo rested beside a ceramic teapot still releasing wisps of heat. The cook had done her part, but appetite was not something anyone had brought to the table.

- So, thank you very much Lailah. -You're welcome ...- she says a little uncomfortable- Where could I leave this?- she asks, lifting the trays. Scott finally realizes that he is holding them all the time and reacts. -On that table over there- He says pointing to the small new wooden table where my leg is resting- You may have noticed that I don't have a dining room It is only this that you see- he murmurs looking around, proud of his shitty floor.

The server handed over the sheet with visibly shaking hands. Sophie scanned it once, her eyes moving quickly down the page. “Okay. Look, you didn't mess it up.” Her voice was so steady that even I felt myself relax a little just listening to her. “You just highlighted the wrong row. Table seventeen is the dairy-free one, and table nineteen is the vegetarian. Easy fix.” The girl let out a massive, shaky exhale. “Oh my God. Thank you.” “You’re fine.” Sophie squeezed her shoulder once, giving her a reassuring nod before handing the clipboard back. “Nobody’s dying tonight, okay?”

Mara nodded slowly from the end of the table. A beat. "But get everything ready."

Just eyes meeting across the room, then bodies closing the distance. Now she was bent over the kitchen table—ass up high, cheek pressed to the cool wood, arms stretched forward, fingers curled around the far edge. The table was old oak, scarred from years of meals and everything else they’d done on it. Her tits flattened against the surface with every breath. Legs spread wide. Pussy still slick from the night before, swollen, ready.

Kevin placed a copy of contract that I threw in the middle of the dining table. The lunch was done and the table was finely cleaned. Except the basket of fruits, every second object was taken away. And now the table was only occupied with the fresh glasses of wine and a dozen of wine bottles along with the tablet I had arranged for my client who will soon become my partners in crime.

Adeline's POV --- Two hours later I'm back in my jeans and sweater, but my skin hasn't gotten the memo, still convinced it's wearing something that costs more than my rent. Matteo waits by a table covered in place settings, forks and knives arranged with surgical precision, ready to perform a very fancy operation on a salad. I have no idea what any of them are for. "Welcome to etiquette crash course." He gestures to the table. "I'll keep it simple."