Waiting

"Yes," he said before taking another bite of omelette. For a hotel omelette, it really wasn't bad. "We all get numbers, but Ashley gets the most by far."

"Ashley? Blonde, big tits, glides around on insane heels like they are roller skates?"

"That's her. It's a rare shift when she doesn't get a phone number slid to her. Some are quite insistent. I get my fair share, but I haven't responded to one in six years."

She looked over at him. "Clearly, there's a story there."

"There is. This girl was....what were you like when you were 21?

Samantha laughed. "Oh, I was a bitch on wheels. I like to party and drive guys nuts. It was not one of my better phases."

"Ok, she was something like you, but not as hot."

"Such a bullshit flatterer, but go on."

Seth took a breath. He'd told this story often over the years, and it always got a laugh. He could laugh now, but at the time, it was a tense situation that could have gone bad very easily.

"I'm working at one of these generic sports pubs. It's ok, but I work mostly families and girls nights out. When the lads are together they want one of the waitresses with big tits. So this one is with about a half dozen of her girlfriends, and they are high maintenance all night long. Lots of drinks, very loud. And she is flirting hard with me all night. And I play it up because I want a good tip for all the work I'm putting in."

"Did you get one?" Samantha asked.

"No."

"What the fuck?"

"As they're getting ready to leave, she comes up, shoves her hand into my pants pocket, gropes my cock, and whispers in my ear, 'call that number if you want your tip,' and she slurs tip because she's had a few, 'taken care of tonight.' Then she staggers off -- no money left on the table except to cover the bill.

"A couple of the waitresses see what's happened. They're ready to get medieval on them because I've stepped in when guys have harassed them before and they know I can't do anything. But the girls giggle their way out the door before anything escalates. So now I'm pissed because I've been stiffed, in more ways than one. The staff are all very much, do not text her, she is crazy trouble," he said.

"But you text her."

"I do. I know the girl's trouble, but I'm 23 and not thinking with the right head, if you know what I mean."

Samantha laughs.

"So I go to her res room, and she's waiting in panties and a crop top. I'm probably there for less than 10 minutes, long enough for my pants to be around my ankles and her mouth around my cock when the door bursts open and in comes the boyfriend."

"Oh fuck," Samantha says, putting her hands over her mouth.

"Because, of course, her friends sent texts and photos of her flirting with me. So now there's yelling, she's a whore, he's an asshole for fucking some other girl. I am very much trying to get out of there when she decides to grab my cock and yell 'at least I'm finally getting a decent-sized cock for the first time in months.'"

Samantha looks horrified, but is also fighting back laughter.

"Oh God, what did you do?"

"While they were yelling, I managed to step out of my pants. I figured I wasn't going to get time to haul them up. And honestly, I've got nothing to be embarrassed about down there."

"You really don't," she said, taking an unsubtle look at his groin. His cock had not deflated much since the shower, so he was sure there was a noticeable tent in the bathrobe.

"I didn't want to trip over my pants or get blindsided while pulling them up. So the girl's said the magic words and he comes for me. He's athletic, but fortunately, he's drunk and doesn't know how to fight," he said.

"And you do?"

"I was a bouncer for a few years. I know how to stop fights. Very quickly, he's on the floor, face down, with his left arm twisted behind his back and my knee on his spine. I calmly told him I would stand up, collect my things and leave. If he took another swing at me, his university athletic career would be coming to an end.

"By now, there's an audience outside the door. A girl thoughtfully handed me my pants, which I put on, and I quickly backed out of the room. As I went down the corridor, I could hear the yelling start again, but that wasn't my problem then."

"How come you didn't punch him? He deserved it," she asked.

"Well, she probably deserved it more, but that's another thing. Look, I've punched people before. It hurts. I land the punch wrong and break my hand; well, now I can't work, and the restaurants I worked with back then had no problem dumping your ass if you can't make your shift. You're easily replaceable. Now how do I make rent or eat? I punch him, then security bursts in, and I'm arrested and charged with assault. Maybe these two lovebirds will change their story. I was assaulting her when he rushed in to save her. Now I have a sexual assault charge to deal with. Maybe I get convicted, which means I fail criminal records checks and can't get a job. Then I'm off to the races."

"Wow. You thought of all that at that moment?"

"I'm not that smart. But one of the first things they taught me as a bouncer is never to punch someone unless it's an absolute last resort. De-escalate. Have back-up. Immobilize. Everything but throw a punch. So it was muscle memory kicking in. But I was lucky. That could have gone much, much worse," Seth said.

"And that's why you don't call phone numbers when they're slipped to you."

"Exactly."

"Except for me."

Seth laughed. "Except for you. My six-year streak up in smoke."

"I'm not complaining, but I don't understand why. I know I'm attractive, but you must have attractive women..."

"And men."

Samantha gave a scandalized laugh. "Of course, and men, hitting on you and giving you their number. What makes me so special?"

Seth paused for a moment. It was the question. No matter how much he joked about it, this was utterly unlike him. He struggled to find the right words.

"I've always been good at reading people. That's not a new skill set. It's a survival skill I've had since I was a kid. I just got better over the years listening to the voice in my head. You get customers that don't view me, Ashley or any of the waiters as...human. We're servants. A game. Something to have fun with or tease and then move on. A piece of meat. I don't complain because I now have ways of dealing with that attitude. And honestly, the women on staff have it much, much worse than I do.

"So yeah, you were flirting heavily with me, but it was playful, not creepy. Because the voice was saying you weren't crazy. There was something in your eyes that I liked when I looked at you. It was saying it was safe to take a chance with you. However, the concealer you put on your ring finger gave me pause. But I trust that voice in my head and took a chance."

She dipped her head. "Busted. Sorry about that."

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?"

Samantha looked out the window, not at Seth, trying to process the conversation. When he got home, Seth would be doing much the same thing. He never talked this much, especially to people he had just met.

"I suppose you'll want to get home," she said. Seth nodded and made to stand up. "I mean, I still had one final fantasy and it's a shame to send you home with your cock so hard, but well...."

"And what's that? I'm not sure I need another shower now," he said, settling back into the chair.

"No, not that. I was going to ask last night, but I got kinda...distracted. I've fantasized about being fucked against a window at a hotel. I could look out over the city and imagine people are watching me get fucked," she said. "But, oh well...."

Seth started undoing his robe.

"What time is checkout?" he asked.

"Noon," she said, fidgeting with her robe. Seth guessed it wasn't quite ten yet.

"Plenty of time to help you with your fantasy," he said, dropping his robe. He walked toward Samantha, and she reached and touched his already hard cock.

"I see this, and I swear I get wet instantly."

"Funny, I see you, and I get hard instantly."

Samantha kissed the tip of his cock, which then turned to the head of his cock vanishing into her mouth, followed by most of his cock. She bobbed up and down on it for a few minutes while he ran his fingers through her hair.

"I'm guessing anyone looking could see the hot blonde sucking a guy's cock in a hotel room right now," he said.

She groaned and moved faster on his cock. Seth enjoyed it a lot, but he had a fantasy to fulfill.

"And how are you fucked against the window? Back on the window while I fuck you? You bent over while I fuck you from behind?"

Her mouth popped off his cock, and she took a moment to process what he said. Then she stood up and walked over to the entrance to the room. Samantha wasn't short, but Seth still had eight or nine inches on her. She must have realized the height difference would be a problem, so she put on the Louboutins from last night, which gave her an extra four or five inches. Then she dropped the robe and walked up to him, giving his cock a meaningful stroke with her hand as she leaned up and kissed him. After a moment, she broke off the kiss and placed her hands on the window, moving her hips back towards him.

"Fuck me, baby. Show Toronto what kind of slut I am."

Seth didn't need to be told twice. He slipped on the condom and moved behind her. Then he placed the tip of his cock at the entrance of her pussy and his hands on her hips.

"Ready?"

"Oh God, just fuck me already."

In one motion, Seth buried his cock into her pussy, angling so that she came up on her toes momentarily.

"Oh Fuck!" she cried out.

He wanted to start slapping Samantha's ass as he did the night before, but Seth quickly figured out that putting his hands on her tits to give her more support was the better option. Besides, he reasoned, he hadn't spent nearly enough time on them.

There was no holding back on this one. Samantha wanted to be fucked, and Seth was happy to oblige. But he noticed in her reflection in the window that her eyes were closed. He tweaked her nipples, making her eyes open as she gasped.

"Look out the window," he ordered.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god."

"Can you see people down there, walking along the street?"

"Y-yes."

"Just imagine if they looked up right now. They'd see some sweaty big-titted blonde slut being fucked, wouldn't they?"

"Fuck!" she screamed, and he could feel her pussy clamp onto him as she came. She would have collapsed onto the floor, except he kept her upright. She was in a daze. Seth was the opposite. He was now hyper-focused on getting to cum again.

He pulled out to weak protests, then spun her around. He lifted Samantha and pinned her against the window. Some dim part of him knew this was probably dumb, but the windows could withstand more force than his fucking could bring. Then that thought disappeared as he slid his cock back into her.

"Oh God, you're going to kill me," she moaned, wrapping her legs around his hips.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Stop and I'll kill you. Fuck me and cum, baby."

Samantha clung to him for dear life as he fucked her. He briefly cursed the goddamn condom, but then, finally, he could feel his orgasm coming on.

"Close," he gasped.

"Do it, baby. Let it go," she gasped in his ear. Finally, with a groan, he came.

Then his legs gave out, and they collapsed into a pile on the floor, gasping for breath and laughing simultaneously.

"I haven't cum three times in that short a time since I discovered internet porn," he said.

She laughed softly. "I'm flattered. I don't think I've ever been fucked that much, that hard in my life. Christ, I'm going to be sore later."

"I'm...sorry?"

"God, no. Totally worth it."

After a few more minutes, and they had both caught their breath, Seth stated the obvious.

"You know we're going to both need to shower again."

"Fuck," said Samantha, using one of the chairs to leverage herself weakly to her feet. "Fine, but we have separate ones. I don't know if I can survive another round with your cock."

***

Two minutes before noon, Samantha checked out of the hotel room, and both did the wait of shame for the valet to bring her car. He was wearing his waiter clothes from last night; she was still wearing her black cocktail dress. And no amount of showering or cleaning up could disguise the fact that they had been having a lot of sex. Seth was half surprised there wasn't a noise complaint waiting for them at the front desk.

Soon enough, she drove him home in a bright red electric car. It suited her perfectly.

They were chatting and laughing about nothing much as she drove him to his apartment in High Park. Just bitching about Toronto and the state of the place. And Seth discovered that it was a new and pleasant sensation for him. Relaxed conversation with a beautiful woman. He wasn't trying to hustle her for a good tip. He wasn't in a bar hitting on a woman who might have been drunk and viewing him as a piece of meat to get off on. Just....talking.

It was nice. Samantha was nice. And then he realized he felt happy for the first time in a very long time.

Fuck it, he thought. The last stupid thing he did worked out well. Time to see if his streak could continue.

"Did you like the tiramisu last night?"

She glanced over at him, a confused look on her face on where he was going with this.

"I think the fact I was licking it off your chest at two in the morning was a pretty good indication of how I felt about it. Why?"

"If you had a craving for more... tiramisu, I think that could be arranged."

The car lurched slightly as he guessed Samantha had accidentally hit the brakes.

"Are you serious?"

"I understand that you're going through a lot right now, and if this is one more thing you don't want to deal with, this is fine. I completely understand."

"Tiramisu can be complicated," she said, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel and processing his offer. Seth found he could breathe a bit more normal now. "But, delivery might be complicated. Sorry if that's weird for you."

"Not at all. Pick-up is easily arranged."

"At the restaurant?"

"Well, there's a pick-up location up ahead. Three streets down, on your right. The green house on the left. You can swing by there, and I'll be waiting. I work Tuesday to Sunday, always in the evenings."

Samantha was nodding her head now to a beat only she could hear. He could tell she was processing things, and the urge to keep talking and rambling away was almost overwhelming to fill the dead space. But instead, he kept quiet and let her focus. A few minutes later, she pulled up in front of his house. They both sat in the car for a moment, not saying anything. Finally, Seth couldn't handle it.

"You don't have to let me know now. I just sprung that on you. Text me if you're interested," he said, reaching for the door handle.

"Monday night," she said suddenly. "Is Monday night ok? I have some meetings in the day, and I have to meet my lawyer about some things. But I could probably really use something sweet Monday evening. Is that ok?"

He leaned over and gently kissed her lips.

"Text me when you're heading over," he said, exiting the car. She did a little wave, and then the car shot down the street as if Samantha might have misjudged how much pressure was needed to get it going again.

He stood on the sidewalk for a moment before heading into his apartment. Seth was almost certain he had done the right thing and not made a horrible mistake. He listened to the voice in his head. It was quiet. He took that as a good sign; it was usually only talkative when he was stupid or about to do something stupid. And if he had let Samantha drive away, he believed his voice would be chatting up a storm right now.

Then his phone buzzed. He grabbed it too quickly, worried that Samantha might have changed her mind. Instead, it was a text from Ashley.

"I will hang you from your balls in the kitchen tonight if you don't *fucking call me* and tell me what happened."

Shaking his head, he hit Ashley's number and went inside.