The waitress was pert and attractive. Not overly so, but she had that appeal that all slim, well proportioned women have that hover around their late twenties. I was tired, ordered a coffee and sat patiently. I watched as she sauntered with a cup and a hot pot and filled it in front of me. As she bent over two of her assets were clearly displayed for me. I chose to believe it was intentional. I'm a pretty handsome man as men go, or at least the women I've had relationships with have considered me presentable enough to tell me such sweet lies. I noticed just the hint of perfume. It was barely strong enough to register alongside the fresh coffee which poured forth freely before me.

"So what would you like?"

I was thinking that what I would like is not on the menu, nor would it be found on the menu of any respectable establishment. I gazed back down at the menu in my lap and tried to find a safe gastronomical choice. Salads could be stale, fish was always risky and expensive items in a middle class restaurant are seldom ordered, leaving the chef less practiced at preparing them. All this passed through my head even though at the same time my eyes periodically darted to the waitresses legs which were hovering just slightly above and to the left of the menu.

"I'll take a bacon cheeseburger, well done on the burger, side of fries."

She looked almost disappointed. Perhaps she was reading my mind and expected me to clear the table with one armsweep, grab her and pull her down to the table and immerse myself in her beauty. Somehow, I imagined such a response would be greeted with the rest of the coffee pot poured over me strategically for most punishing effect. No, she wasn't disappointed I told myself, she was simply taking my order. Suddenly, I realized the slightly pained look on her face was simply because her pen was out of ink. She grabbed another from within a huge pocket on her short skirt and continued writing.

"Would you like any dessert?"

She was toying with me. Sure, I would love something sweet and delicious, but again I caught myself before making some such juvenile response. She's in control and she knows it. She can flirt and hide behind her apron and uniform and she can choose just how much she wants to play. In another time I would've answered with some snappy retort and would be quite proud of my cleverness. She could parry and I would thrust, a counter for each move. And now? Now, I am too old, too tired and too cautious. Such table banter is no longer in my immediate repertoire. I try to convince myself she just wants a decent tip and since the restaurant is nearly abandoned at this godforsaken hour, I don't have to strongarm myself into such belief.

"No thanks. The burger and fries will do it for me, thanks."

Set and match. I watch as she puts the pad into her pocket and saunters off to the kitchen. She seems to sense my gaze and her hips swing ever so gracefully, almost as if she were working a runway instead of delivering an order to the graveyard shift chef. I try to get her out of my mind and think on matters at hand, but I breathe in and catch another whiff of her scent lingering over the table. At last salvation arrives in the form of two kids entering the restaurant. Their loud entrance distracts and its easy to see they are teenagers, drunk with the impudence of youth, and their laughter echoes peculiarly in this quiet place. The waitress glances over at the two loud young men and in an instant tension appears across her brow. I can only imagine that experience has told her that loud teens are just more work and little or no tip. Her demeanor changes almost instantly. She is all business. Her posture becomes rigid and utilitarian. The transformation is quite amazing and when juxtaposed with her demeanor and poise of a minute ago, I can't help but feel flattered.

The rest of the experience was less noteworthy or perhaps I was simply too tired to pay as close attention. It was simply a sweet reminder that being seventy-eight, balding and grey comes with a few small privileges.

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© SDAI-Tech1 ;-)