Sasha Serves Valentino's Investors

Tino, the owner and maitre d' at Valentino's Italian Bistro, gently draped Sasha and John's coats over his forearm and held them out to the hostess. "Please hang these while I seat our guests." He instructed her.

"Signorina?" Tino offered Sasha his elbow, through which she hooked her arm, and he escorted the couple to their usual corner table at the intersection of the two burgundy leather banquettes, John following behind them. Tino pulled the table out from the corner so Sasha and John could seat themselves, and then unfolded their napkins before placing them in the diners' laps. Sasha's short black cocktail dress had slid far up her hips as she sat, and Tino draped her napkin softly over her exposed upper thigh.

"So nice to see you both this evening -- we're always excited when you come. Would you like the usual?" Tino asked?

"Yes," John replied, "a bottle of pink champagne, per favore. No hurry."

"I will tell your server, please enjoy." Tino said, giving the couple an exaggerated wink before returning to the hostess stand.

"It's nice to be regulars and get the VIP treatment, isn't it?" Sasha asked.

"They like us here." John replied. "And the feeling is mutual!"

Shortly, the server delivered their champagne. He opened the bottle with a napkin, poured them two glasses, wrapped the bottle, and shoved it down into the ice in the chiller by their table.

Moments later, Tino returned, his own glass in hand. Sasha and John could smell the bitter amaro as Tino pulled up a chair to join them.

"May I?" He asked.

"Sure," answered John, "To what do we owe this treat? What's new? Where's Gino tonight?"

"Gino has the evening off. He'll be sad to have missed you both." Tino winked again at Sasha, and she smiled and blushed.

"I came over to talk to you because I have a favor, maybe more of a proposition, really, to ask of you." Tino stated.

"For you, anything." John said.

"Next Friday is our annual investors meeting in the private dining room in the back." Tino explained. "Normally, we have Emmanuella serve -- she is our very best server. I'm sure you agree."

"We love her." Said Sasha, "She's always so warm and attentive."

"Exactly -- and she knows how to work the money-men and send them home stuffed and happy." Tino agreed. "The problem is this: she's leaving tomorrow for a two-week trip home to Napoli. I didn't think through the calendar when I approved the time off. My mistake. Now I've got nobody but Giuseppe and Alberto to work as servers. I can't spare them from the main dining room, and even if I could, they just cannot deliver the experience that the investors are expecting."

"That is a conundrum." John commiserated. "But how can we help?"

"Well, it's really mostly Sasha's help I am hoping for. I was talking to Gino about this situation, trying to figure out whom we could ask to fill in for Emmanuella, and he suggested you, Sasha. I know you are a professional person, not a waitress. But I would compensate you well - $1,000 for the evening. Four hours at most."

Sasha gulped. Over the last year, almost every time she and John saw Gino at the restaurant, they were sitting in this very corner, Sasha bottomless, secretly flashing Gino her beautiful half-Asian pussy under the table, spreading her legs, fingering herself, letting Gino watch. Sometimes even letting Gino touch. Sasha knew that Gino was hot for her, but she wasn't sure why Gino thought a waitressing job would be right for her.

"This town is full of waitresses looking for work. Why me?" Sasha asked.

"Gino adores you -- you know this. And I will be honest, he told me some time ago about your, how should we say it -- 'arrangement.' He's should have realized I would notice all the pink champagne and crème brulé that he was comping you. When I confronted him, he confessed."

"Oh god, I am so embarrassed." Sasha moaned, her eyes wide with shock, her face turning beet red.

"No, no -- it is ok! It's totally ok!" Tino placed his hand reassuringly over Sasha's. "That was months ago. I have allowed it to continue. It's important to have regular customers -- and if they are an attractive couple like you two obviously are, so much the better. You two have brought a good energy to the restaurant. And that's mostly why I want you for this job -- you are so cheerful and positive. Warm, but clever. You melt hearts with that beautiful smile of yours, Sasha. Gino said he thought you had worked as a server in college, and we both thought you would have the experience, the attitude, the charm to mollify a room full of arrogant restaurant investors. And the smarts to hold your own with them."

Sasha was comforted by Tino's warm touch and kind words, and relieved to hear his warm explanation. She was also flattered. Though still embarrassed that Tino knew their secret, she felt the tension in her belly ease. Smiling at Tino, she thought to herself 'He said that I am beautiful.' She leaned forward and gave Tino a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you for saying that, Tino." Sasha said. "That's very kind of you. We have speculated whether anyone else knew, but just assumed it was only Gino. So, this is the investors' annual meeting?" She asked.

Tino nodded and sipped his amaro.

"And how's business?" She continued.

Sasha was no dummy. She had an MBA in finance and worked with lawyers and bankers and investors every day. She knew if the annual report was bad, the investors would not be in a good mood, and then nothing about this gig would be pleasant.

"You ask the smart questions." Tino said. "Business has been spectacular. Revenues are up, reservations are up, profits are up. Maybe it's a coincidence, but I think you are our lucky charm. So, Gino and the chef are working together on a very special menu for the investors, and I think they will be ecstatic. If all goes well, I'll be able to give Gino and the other staff a little raise. So, what do you say? John, may I conscript your girlfriend for one night to serve dinner to four wealthy restauranteurs?"

"It's not up to me," responded John "it's Sasha's time. I certainly don't mind, though. I know we don't have any plans that night."

"It's not like we need the money," Sasha mused, "but on the other hand, it's hard to turn my nose up at $250 an hour. That said, we'd probably end up just spending it all here anyway." She laughed.

Tino could tell that Sasha was vacillating. He wanted this half-Asian stunner for this job and didn't want her to get away without agreeing.

"I tell you what." Tino said. "I'll sweeten the deal. Once you do this, you will be like part of the Valentino's family. You two can have the staff discount -- half off -- for as long as I own this restaurant. You can even have the discount tonight, if you say yes."

John cocked an eyebrow and looked to Sasha, as if to say silently 'That's a pretty sweet offer.'

"Ok, I'll do it. Here's to Sasha the server!" She enthusiastically raised her glass to John and Tino, who toasted her.

"To Sasha the server!" Both men said, clinking their glasses.

"I will leave you to your dinner." Said Tino. "I cannot thank you enough -- this means a lot to me. I know my investors will be in good hands. Grazie -- molti grazi."

"Tino," Sasha said, almost whispering, leaning in towards him, "can I ask a question?"

"Anything, my dear. What is it?" Tino responded.

"Are you and Gino expecting me to expose myself to the investors? That's not what this is about, is it?" Sasha whispered to Tino.

"No, sweetheart. No. These men, they need a server who knows how to make them feel important and special. One who knows which side to serve a plate from. Who will keep their glasses full, laugh at their jokes, and send them home satiated and smiling. This is the service that Emmanuella provides, and whatever you can do to make that happen, I will be in your debt." Tino gave Sasha a reassuring pat on her thigh.

"Thank you, Tino." Sasha responded with relief. She placed her hand over Tino's and squeezed. "And thank you for not firing Gino!"

"Fire him? I wish I could promote him!" Tino laughed. "Business is good!"

Tino stood and excused himself. The couple devoured their meal, Sasha all atwitter about her little waitressing gig. She spent the dinner studying the servers, and reminding herself out loud of all the details that go into being a good waitress: what goes where, when flatware is removed and replaced, how often to refill glasses, where to stand to be out of the way, how to summon the bus boys, how to talk to the chefs. Once or twice over the course of the evening, Sasha caught Tino looking towards her from the host stand, and she would separate her knees to give him a momentary view of her warm pale brown slit visible through her transparent lace thong. Tino seemed less zealous than Gino to get a peek, but Tino would smile and give a nod of gratitude when Sasha did show herself to him.

'Tino likes my pussy, but he's not a lech. That's good.' Sasha thought.

The couple finished their meal, paid their (discounted) check, and stopped briefly at the host stand to say goodnight to Tino.

"Gino will call you tomorrow or the next day to finalize the arrangements. Thank you again Sasha. Thank you too, John. I will see you next Friday, Sasha. Have a lovely weekend. I cannot express what a relief it is to place this event in your hands. I will see you next Friday."

"See you!" Sasha said, giving Gino an Italian farewell -- one kiss on each cheek.

The week flew by. The work days seemed to pass in minutes, and Sasha spent her evenings researching the duties of a fine dining server, and planning her outfit. Before she knew it, the week had passed. She cut out of her office a little early on Friday in order have time to change and get to the restaurant by 6:00 PM. The investors were to arrive at 7:00, and the dinner was expected to end at 10:00.

"Wear something sexy, but not not over the top." Gino had advised her. "White shirt, black skirt. Short, but not too short. Your legs always look amazing in heels, but it is hard to wait tables in heels for hours -- most waitresses wear running shoes. But it's up to you."

Sasha stripped naked and stood before her bedroom mirror. She had laid her clothes out on the bed: a white cotton button down shirt with a man's collar; a tight but stretchy black pencil skirt -- more of a mini skirt -- that landed mid-thigh (high enough to show off her long tan legs, low enough not to be salacious); no bra because Sasha's breasts were small and the shirt was opaque -- she figured she'd be covered enough, and if the investors saw a nipple pressing against the starched cotton, who knows -- they might just appreciate it; and a pair of low-heeled pumps -- not as comfortable as running shoes, but far sexier, while still more comfortable than her stilettos. No tights or stockings. And concealed under the skirt, a black cotton g-string ('No panty lines tonight,' Sasha thought).

She stepped out of the bedroom and twirled for John. "You look extraordinary!" He said. "If you were my waitress, I'd seduce you and take you home with me!"

"Good thing, since I live here." Sasha joked.

"Sasha?" John spoke her voice quietly.

"What is it, baby?" She cooed.

"I've been thinking. I'm not sure I believe Gino and Tino that they're not expecting you to show these investors some skin." He said.

"I know -- I've had the same thought. But Tino promised." Sasha said.

"Well, if they do, I just wanted you to know, I trust you and it's ok with me. I don't own you -- you can do anything you want. Just be safe and smart about it." John said.

"Baby -- you're the best. Nothing is going to happen, though." She reassured him.

"I know. But take your phone -- call me and tell me how it's going." John said.

"I will, sweetheart." She kissed John deeply on the lips and he ran his hand over the thin fabric stretched over her beautiful round derriere. "I'll be home by midnight. Love you!"

Gino greeted Sasha at the restaurant. He showed her the private dining room. It was off the back hall with a frosted glass door that opened into the hallway between the restrooms and the kitchen. Inside the burgundy-painted room there was a separate swinging service door that opened directly into the kitchen. A round table had been perfectly set with five chairs. There were tray stands along the wall, a water station, champagne chillers. Gino gave Sasha a little waitress's "apron" -- really just a short cotton pocket or two -- that she tied behind her back and smoothed over the front of her skirt. She used the pockets for a pen, her phone, and a notepad.

Tino entered the room, and thanked her effusively for helping them. He stood back to admire her and Sasha purred as Gino scanned her up and down. "Do a slow spin for me?" Tino directed.

She turned slowly for the two men. "Extraordinary!" Said Tino as she turned her back to him. Sasha wiggled her butt appreciatively.

"You are perfect." Said Tino. "Not even Emmanuella has ever looked so perfect for one of these dinners. Brava, Sasha, brava!"

"Can I tell you both a secret?" Sasha asked in a hushed voice.

"Of course!" Said Tino.

"I'm actually wearing underwear." She whispered and giggled.

"May we see?" Asked Gino. Tino shot him a death stare, but Sasha was always eager to show herself off and had already said "Yes!" and hiked her skirt around her waist and lifted her apron to give the men another twirl.

"My god you are a vision." Gino said, ogling the thin black string disappearing between the round lobes of Sasha's butt. It was not the first time he had said this to her.

"Quanto tempo ci vorrà prima che vengano rimossi?" Tino asked Gino in Italian.

"Non lo so. Presto, spero." Gino replied.

Sasha didn't really speak Italian, but she understood Gino's reply ("I don't know, hopefully soon"), and assumed Tino had asked when the investors would arrive. She pulled the hem of her skirt back to her thighs and smoothed it down.

Tino stepped out to wait for the investors and conduct the business portion of the meeting in his office. Sasha and Gino finished preparing the room, and he briefed her on the menu, and gave her a little intel on the investors.

They were all men in their 40s or 50s, none of them Italian, all affluent, friendly, but serious about their money. They were used to being treated like VIPs. "If your service is exceptional, they might tip you on top of what Tino is paying." Gino offered.

Just then Tino re-entered the dining room along with four other men -- a white haired man in a blue suit, a dark haired man in a tan jacket, a balding man in black turtleneck, and an Asian man in a gray dress shirt and slacks. The Asian man looked vaguely familiar to Sasha, but she didn't want to stare at him, and looked at the floor.

"Gentlemen," he said, "this is Sasha. She and Gino will be taking care of you tonight."

"No Emmanuella?" Exclaimed blue suit.

"Mi dispiace," said Tino, "As I told you, Emmanuella is in Italy this week. But we think that you'll find Sasha a more-than-adequate replacement."

"I'm sure we will, honey." Said blue suit, rubbing Sasha's shoulder apologetically. "I was just joking. We're looking forward to you."

'Handsy.' Thought Sasha.

Gino seated and joined the men, and Sasha uncorked and poured a bottle of champagne for them. Over the first several minutes, with a little help from Gino, she quietly memorized their names. Blue suit was Stan Jeffries, the lead investor who owned 51% of the restaurant. Tino owned the remaining 49% of the restaurant in equal shares with the other three: tan jacket, who was named Brian Kovatch; black turtleneck, whose name was Thomas Walker; and the Asian man who was Chidi Nguyen.

'Chidi Nguyen!' Sasha thought. 'Why do I know that name?'

Gino cleared the champagne flutes and replaced them with white wine glasses as Sasha served the first course: an iced tray holding at least thirty oysters. She deftly placed a small bowl of champagne-vinegar-and-shallot-vinaigrette in front of each of them men and retreated to the wall by the kitchen door. The men enthusiastically slurped at the raw oysters.

"Damn these are good!" Said Mr. Jeffries. "Sasha -- would you like to join us for an oyster or two?"

"Oh, thank you so much Mr. Jeffries, that's very kind." She said, stepping forward. "It's not appropriate -- I'm just here to serve."

"First of all, call me Stan," he responded, "we're all on a first name basis here. Second, the only rules are the ones we make, and I'd like you to try these. If you like oysters, that is."

"I do, I do like oysters." Sasha said, stepping towards the table. "Thank you, Mr. Jef..., I mean Stan."

Gino deftly slid behind Sasha and pushed a chair behind her knees for her to sit next to Stan. Stan took a large oyster and spooned a dash of vinaigrette over it. With his left hand he took Sasha's chin and raised it slightly. With the right, he held the oyster over her mouth. Sasha, used to feeding herself, shot him a surprised look, but opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue for Stan to pour the slimy mollusk and its brine between her parted lips. Sasha swallowed, with an "Mmmmmmmm. So delicious."

"Right?" Said Stan. "Have another!" And he repeated the same dance.

"Best thing I've had in my mouth all day." Sasha joked, and the men all broke into peals of laughter.

"So far!" Said Thomas Walker, and the men laughed harder.

"Oh, Sasha," Stan said, unexpectedly placing his hand on Sasha's bare thigh, "I'm sorry for the crack about Emmanuelle. You've been great and it's clear to me that you fit right in with this motley crew of aging philogynists."

"That's a real twenty-dollar word." Said Brian Kovatch.

"It means 'admirers of women,' dum dum." Chidi Nguyen said. "You owe me twenty dollars." They all laughed more.

"Have another one, Sasha!" Stan commanded.

"You're too generous! One more -- ok." Sasha responded. "But then I've got to get back to taking care of you."

"Tommy -- you give her this one!" Stan directed the partner seated on the other side of him.

"Oh, ok." Sasha said, slightly confused. She stood and pushed her chair back.

"Skip the chair, sweetheart." Said Tom. "Just come have a seat on my lap -- this will only take a second."

"That's what she said." Quipped Chidi, which nearly brought the other men to tears they laughed so hard.

Sasha stepped around Stan and stood between Tom's knees. She gently lowered herself to sit on his left thigh, as he prepared an oyster and offered it to her expectant tongue with his right hand. He placed his left hand over her sacrum and rubbed warmly as Sasha swallowed the briny oyster.

"Thank you so much." She said, standing, feeling nervous about the men's attention. "I'll go check on the next course."

Sasha retreated to the bustling kitchen with Gino in tow. "Oh my god, Gino -- is this normal?" She asked as soon as the door swung shut behind them.

"Is what normal, Sasha?" Gino asked.

"Them pouring oysters down my throat, and touching my legs and my butt?" She queried.

"Aaah -- they are just being rowdy. They are harmless. The important thing is this: they adore you!" Said Gino, reassuringly. "I have never seen them so cheerful, not even with Emmanuelle. You make them feel at ease."

"Well that's good." Said Sasha. "I wish I could feel at ease."

"Here, this will help." Gino poured her a glass of champagne from one of several bottles of alcohol lined up along the wall for the investors' dining room.

"Oh god, yes!" Sasha exclaimed. "I should've done this earlier." And she poured the entire glass down her throat with a single gulp.

Gino put his hand on Sasha's hip. "You are doing fantastic. Relax." He reassured her.

Sasha gave Gino a hug. "Thank you, Gino." She said.

Together they served the next course, a rustic Italian mushroom soup. Sasha poured a French Chardonnay for each of the men and again retreated to the back wall of the dining room.