It was Christmas Eve, and like a good Jewish boy, I offered to work the evening shift as a short-order cook at Sandy’s Diner. We were one of the few restaurants open due to the holiday, so the place would be hopping.
My mother was annoyed that I was skipping out on the sixth night of Hanukkah.
“Harry, it’s Rosh Chodesh, the beginning of the month of Tevet!” she chided.
“And it’s double pay at the diner,” I countered.
Ma just shook her head as if I were a lost cause. To be honest, I was sort of looking forward to a break after five nights of Aunt Miriam’s burnt latkes and me bumbling through prayers with my less-than-stellar Hebrew. I’m pretty sure Rabbi Arnie took pity on me a dozen years earlier when I mangled a good portion of my reading from the Torah at my Bar Mitzvah – but I digress. The chance to make extra money and hang out with the new waitress, Annika, with her light brown hair and soft brown eyes, was far more enticing.
The first hour or so wasn’t terribly busy, and it allowed me to get my flirt on. The best part was that Annika was flirting back. A couple of times, I had to duck behind the counter so she wouldn’t see the effect she was having on me.
Eventually, business picked up, and we had to both focus on work. But I caught her checking out my ass when I was helping her bus tables after a big rush. Maybe, just maybe, she’d let me drive her home after work.
The rest of the night, we were slammed with customers, and I barely saw Annika except when she put her tickets up on the wheel and picked up her orders. When the last table left, we were in full clean-up mode. I could see she was tired, and I supposed any ideas of romance would have to wait.
Since I was already mopping the kitchen, I volunteered to do the front of the restaurant as well. She offered a weak, appreciative smile as she still had to help Sandy, the owner, balance out the cash drawer. When I finished everything on the closing checklist, I took my time getting my things together in the break area to wait for her.
When she came out of the office, she was surprised to see that I hadn’t left yet. “Why are you still here, Harry? Shouldn’t you be headed out to celebrate Christmas Eve with your girlfriend?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend, and I don’t celebrate Christmas; I’m Jewish.”
Annika smiled. “Oh, so you’re just heading home then?”
God, she was so beautiful! I stared a second too long without answering, which prompted her to clear her throat to regain my attention.
“Um, yeah, I guess so. Hey, do you want a ride home?”
“Sure, that would be great! I was planning on taking the bus, but it’s wicked cold outside.”
“I’ll make sure you’re warm,” I blurted out. “I mean, in my car. You know, so you don’t have to wait in the cold for the bus.”
Annika giggled. “I’ll bet you have ways of keeping a girl warm.”
Holy shit! The girl of my dreams wanted me to keep her warm. I tried not to let my mother’s voice in my head spoil the mood. “You need to find a nice Jewish girl, not a Shiksa.”
I shook off the negative vibes and directed my attention to Annika. Being the perfect gentleman, I opened her car door. Once I started the engine, I offered to let her choose the radio station.
She fastened her seatbelt and turned the music off. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m sick of Christmas music.”
I shrugged and put the car in reverse. “You’ll need to give me directions to your house.”
“Of course,” she said, mischief dancing in her eyes.
As we rode along, we made small talk interrupted only by her directions to turn right here or make a left there. Eventually, we came to a little park when she said to stop.
“Annika, this isn’t your house,” I said, frowning.
“Nope, this is a nice out-of-the-way place where we can do what we’ve wanted to do all night long,” she said, her voice as smooth as silk.
I was suddenly nervous and turned to humor. “Drink eggnog and sing White Christmas?”
She laughed. It was a beautiful, rich sound of pure joy. “No, silly; fool around!”
“Oh,” I said in a knowing voice, my nerves settling. “You mean like this?”
I leaned in to kiss her and was delighted by her welcoming and eager mouth. Her lips tasted like strawberries and cream, and I envisioned my cock between them. But I didn’t want to rush to the main event. In one of my smoother moves, I reached under her sweater and masterfully unhooked her bra strap with one hand. Then I grinned when she lifted that sweater for me and said, “Are these what you’re after?”