7. Jay
CHAPTER 7
JAY
O n Saturday night, Violet’s shift goes a little more smoothly. She works quickly, and she’s getting the drink orders back and forth from the counter in a timely fashion.
I shouldn’t have time to think about her as I’m making different orders, gliding around behind the counter, and smiling at customers to keep them engaged and happy. But somehow, despite all of that, I do.
Every time she swaggers up to the counter, I can’t take my eyes off her. I try to force them to the glass in my hand or something under the bar. Or I turn around as I hear the drink names flow off her tongue, but as she walks away, I turn and get a peek at her ass which is almost hanging out from the bottom of her short, long-sleeved, brown dress.
This woman is so distracting, and she doesn’t even realize it.
As I start thinking about her dress, it really starts to annoy me. It’s one thing to dress attractively. Customers like to have an attractive server who is willing to engage in conversation and interact with them. A lot of people come here because they want to have a good time.
But dressing attractively and provocatively are completely different, and my bar is not the kind of place people go to find hookers. This is Maplewood, not Las Vegas.
The more I think about it, the more annoyed I get. She’s ruining the vibe of the bar, and I need to talk to her about it. I won’t do it now, though, in front of customers. I’ll talk to her privately.
I nod as I come to the decision.
“How’s the new girl doing?” Harold asks, interrupting my thoughts.
He’s sitting in his same stool as always, just a few feet away from the door like he’s always prepared for a quick getaway.
I shrug and glance in Violet’s direction again. “She’s doing better than last night.”
“That’s all you can ask for. Improvement means she’s interested in keeping the position. She cares about the feedback you’ve given her, and she’s putting it into practice.”
Harold talks about Violet like she’s a faithful employee who is dogmatically attempting to do her best in a new position. But I don’t see Violet that way. In fact, the way I keep seeing her is the way she was that first night, laid out across the table, legs spread for me.
I continue to stand close to the bar so Harold can’t see that just the memory of Violet is making me hard. “She’s trying,” I agree.
“And trying is the only thing you can ask for, not perfection. I’ve seen those serious looks you’re shooting her way all evening. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but perfection will only run all your servers off, then you’ll have a lot of angry customers. Not me, of course, but your other, less loyal customers.”
I smile at Harold, because he probably spends a good three hundred dollars here a week, and I’ve never had to cut him off. He’s an excellent customer. “Well, speaking of those other customers, I should probably check on some of them.” I pat the bar in front of Harold. “Speak with you later.”
Once I’ve served the others sitting at the bar, Violet approaches me and rattles off a list of six drinks. My hands are already moving as she names the first one. When she’s done, my hands continue to move, preparing the drinks mechanically as she stands there.
She bites her lip and glances back over her shoulder, scanning the tables, and I take advantage of the moment. “I need to talk to you at the end of your shift tonight,” I tell her.
“Why?” Her eyes narrow as she whips her head around in my direction.
“I’d rather not get into it right now.”
“You’d rather get into it later? Last night, you had no problem critiquing me in front of everyone.”
I don’t like her attitude, the way she is practically begging for confrontation. However, I act like the bigger person that I am and don’t stoop to her level. “We’ll talk later,” I declare, thumping one of the drinks onto her tray.
It only takes me two more minutes to have the others ready, and I can feel Violet glaring at me the whole time I work. My other bartender, Jerry, is just as busy as I am, but I decide that a mid-shift switch would do us good.
“Have you taken your break?” I ask him, thumping him on the shoulder.
“Not yet. Been too busy.”
“Take it now. When you come back, man sections E and D.”
“Got it.” Jerry heads to the break room, and I handle the bar by myself for a few minutes. I barely have the chance to think as I hold drink orders in my head, making them one after the other. It’s Saturday, and that means we’re slammed.
When Jerry comes back, he takes the rest of Violet’s orders for the night, which means that I don’t have to deal with a confrontation with her in front of everyone.
Around eleven, people start to drift out. We’re a small town, and even though people like to drink, their coaches turn into pumpkins if they aren’t home by midnight.
Jerry starts cleaning things up, and I nod to the other waitresses as they head out. Violet heads to the kitchen, and I pause for a moment as I’m wiping down a glass. If she’s about to grab her purse and try to slip out without talking to me, I’m going to be annoyed.
“Jerry, take this for a few minutes. I need to speak to the new waitress.”
Jerry doesn’t even blink as I leave him on cleanup alone.
When I slip into the kitchen, I find that I was right. Violet has her purse over her arm, and she’s looking at her phone.
“We need to talk,” I tell her.
Violet’s shoulders slump forward, and she shoves her phone into the pocket of her purple jacket. “What did I do wrong tonight?”
My eyes scan her, but the jacket hides the full provocativeness of her dress. I take a moment to phrase my words in the most “politically correct” way possible. “Violet, you are a gorgeous woman.”
She blinks at me. Clearly, this isn’t the conversation she expected to have.
“I expect my waitresses to have a certain look to keep up with the vibe of The Rusty Oak.”
“And I don’t?”
“Your look is… fine if you’re going out and enjoying yourself. But as a waitress, I expect you to be…” I can’t find the right word, and Violet’s green eyes snapping at me don’t make it any easier.
“Just say it,” she demands.
“I mean, you’re attractive. Everyone knows that, but you don’t have to show it quite so much.”
Violet looks down at her dress in surprise like it suddenly got shorter and she had no idea. “You’re saying that I’m not dressed appropriately? One of the other waitresses was wearing a very similar dress. Why are you calling me out?
I take a step toward her so that there’s only an arm’s length between us. “I’m not calling you out. I’m just trying to help you adjust to the position. There are certain things that need to be covered up. And I know that I, personally, saw your ass when you bent over, and…”
“Why were you looking?” Violet asks, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms.
“How can I not ? You can’t wear something like that—that literally calls attention—then expect people not to look!” I take a deep breath and force myself to lower my voice. “I’m not trying to call you out. I’m trying to… look, you’re a beautiful woman. You’ve got… all the assets. People are going to be looking when you’re dressed like that.”
Violet looks down at herself again, maybe trying to evaluate the dress with a more objective eye. Before she can protest again, because I can already see that she’s not going to agree with me, no matter what I say, I take the last step necessary to bring me face to face with her.
I rest a hand on her hip, and Violet looks up until our eyes meet. We stand there for a moment, neither one of us knowing how to respond. Then, I do it. At least, I’m pretty sure I’m the one that moves first.
Her hand touches the top of mine, then she slides her hand up my arm. At that same moment, our lips meet, and I feel the same warmth from the other night start to spread through me.
I want her. I’m hungry for her, and I can’t stop myself.
My other hand slides under her jacket and rests on her hip, squeezing her gently as I lean into her. She stumbles back a step until she is leaning against the cubbies. I press myself against her so that she can feel my dick.
Violet bites my lower lip and groans. There is something about that groan that makes me start to lose control. One of my hands glides over the smooth, brown fabric of her dress and up to cup her breast. I squeeze it gently, feeling from the softness that she’s not wearing a bra.
I hold back a groan as Violet pulls me flush against her, her fingers dancing across the skin under my tee shirt.
A clatter in the main area jerks me back to myself. I jump away from Violet, studying her for a long moment. I can’t seem to move, but then, I remember where we are and that we aren’t alone.
“I should… out…” I stumble across my words and nod in the direction of the bar.
Violet avoids my eyes and nods, reaching for her purse again which fell to the ground at some point during our encounter.
Then, without a last glance in her direction, I head back to help Jerry clean up.