Wednesday, April 7

waitress love

The blonde Bavarian breakfast waitress I tipped yesterday is there again this morning. I think she's in love with me. She half-saluted as she sprang to fetch my order. And she's wearing trousers today, deliberately showing off the shape of her bottom.

I'm typing this at the table as she works. God forbid that I suffer a heart attack and she finds this and reads it. Actually that might be the very way to get the ball rolling in our life together. I fake unconsciousness, she reads what I'm writing then holds my hand saying "don't die mein Herr, we have so much to look forward to". This brings me back to life and I ask her to marry me. If she turns me down, well it was just the delirium talking.

Right now she's clearing tables, making a hell of a clatter. Normally I'd wince, but the noise she makes is special.

I can hear her in the back now, loading the dishwasher at a frenetic pace. Efficient as well as everything else! I can see our life already. After her second or third orgasm she leaps up to stack the dishes while I take a hot shower to wash off various bodily fluids, and on special occasions, solids. Then I take her somewhere nice for Kaffee und Kuchen, where we analyse our love-making in a whisper. Did you like the kisses on the bottom? Jawohl. And did you like the other stuff on the bottom? Oh ja! Shall we do it again next week?

They have wifi in the breakfast room, so I can upload this over the last cup of tea, before starting our new life together.

But now she's gone off duty! Probably a blessing, as I've no loose change with me for a tip this morning. There'll be plenty of time after we're married to let her discover my stinginess.

I heard her tell the other waitress that she's getting the flu. The poor girl doesn't realise she's really lovesick. Tomorrow's my last day, and if she's not back on duty, she may never get over it. I know what you're thinking, there'll be waitresses in Dunedin. But will they salute and be thorough? Of course not.


  1. Albert? Why don't you just offer her some of the nazi gold like you usually do? That should work. Hotboy

  2. Hotters, how prescient. On the last morning I discovered she's Olga. A Russian. Obviously a gold digger. What a narrow escape!

  3. I say!

    I stopped saluting here about ten years ago. All staff used to line up first thing in the mornings for the salute. Maybe I should start it going again, if it's taking off again in Europe.

    MM III

  4. Mingers. Some things taking off in Europe, starting with Greece, are not to be emulated. I say let the staff choose their own favourite mode of genuflection. PS would you be willing to teach the cellmate to curtsey?