569
"Honey," she drawled when I brought her the drink, "I think you need a tip for bringing me these drinks in such a timely manner." Her Southern accent made me wet. And the hot sun made my polyester uniform itch.
"Just doing my best to make our guests comfortable," I replied automatically. But I was imagining helping her with her suntan lotion and maybe even helping her to orgasm a few times.
She reached up to slip me some cash but withdrew it when I lifted my hand.
"No, honey, bend over," she smiled behind her dark sunglasses. I bent over. She slipped the cash between my breasts.
"Th-thank you," I managed.
"No problem, honey," she said with a wave of her hand. I retreated to the shade of the bar and pulled out the money. The bills were sticky with my sweat. Folded inside was a cardkey and written on the innnermost bill: "569."
Listening to:
Reading:
Feeling:
