Night Waitress

By Salty Vixen

The diner was full to the brim with drunks attempting to sober up before they drove home. The smell of ripe, sweaty bodies and sour beer-breath floated just above every Formica table. The noise level was appallingly loud from all the club flunkies, who had gone temporarily deaf after drowning in dance music for the past couple of hours or so. They yelled back and forth across the tables to their equally deaf companions. Convinced that the wait-staff, could not hear them either, they shouted their late-night breakfast orders

• Language: English
• Publisher: Salty Vixen Publishing LLC
• Release date: Jun 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227977274

Book preview

Night Waitress

A Victim & his Unwilling Succubus

Salty Vixen

Salty Vixen Publishing LLC

Copyright © 2024 Salty Vixen Publishing LLC

All rights reserved.  Salty Vixen is part of Salty Vixen Publishing LLC and Salty Vixen Stories & More (saltyvixenstories.com)

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

It was just after two in the morning and four hours to dawn in the heart of the oldest part of the city. The tiny diner I worked in sat cheek to jowl with some old brick high-rises that used to be considered a decent part of town.

The diner was full to the brim with drunks attempting to sober up before they drove home. The smell of ripe, sweaty bodies and sour beer-breath floated just above every Formica table. The noise level was appallingly loud from all the club flunkies, who had gone temporarily deaf after drowning in dance music for the past couple of hours or so. They yelled back and forth across the tables to their equally deaf companions. Convinced that the wait-staff, could not hear them either, they shouted their late-night breakfast orders.

With a damp rag in one hand and a coffeepot in the other, I swiped tables refilling cups as I went. My black sneakers made tiny, unheard squeaks