The news about the murder that had just been solved played across the TV screen, the reporter's voice clear and steady beneath the soft hum of the diner's air conditioning. The screen flickered, reflecting off the polished surface of the counter.
The waitress stood near the register, her tray pressed lightly against her chest as she stared up at the television. The glow of the screen bathed her in pale light, softening her features. The faint jingling of the wind chime above the door broke the silence, and her attention shifted.
When she turned and saw me walk in, her lips curled into that familiar smile that always made my morning just a little better.
"Hello there, Detective," she greeted warmly, her voice smooth as cream. "I saw what you did on TV. Great job." Her grin widened just a touch, a sparkle of admiration in her eyes. "Do you want the usual?"
"Yes, please," I said, returning the smile.
It was quiet inside—too quiet, really. Just the two of us in that small, sunlit space. The faint buzz of the refrigerator, the lazy hum of the ceiling fan, and the distant murmur of the TV were the only sounds filling the air. Perfect. With no one else around, I could afford to let my charm breathe a little.
She turned toward the kitchen, her hips swaying gently as she moved. My gaze followed her automatically, tracing the subtle rhythm of her hips as she walked away. The fabric of her pants clung just enough to tease the outline of her curves.
"She really looks good, huh?" I murmured to myself, a smirk tugging at my lips. "That ass, I mean. And her bustiness… she's perfect."
I let out a slow, measured breath, trying to keep my composure even as heat crept up the back of my neck. I'd had my eyes on her for weeks now, maybe months, but between work and timing, there'd never been a real chance to act on it. This morning, though, it felt like the world was giving me a small window of opportunity.
After a few minutes, she came back out with her tray balanced gracefully on one hand. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, wrapping around me like a warm blanket. She placed the cup in front of me with a soft clink, the steam rising between us.
A simple black coffee—but somehow, knowing she'd made it, it tasted like heaven before I even took a sip.
The waitress pulled out the seat across from me and sat down, propping her elbows on the table. She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and playfulness.
"You really are working hard, huh?" she said, her voice teasing but soft. "It must be stressful being a detective. I mean, you were here earlier, weren't you?"
Her chin rested against her palms as she tilted her head, her smile turning a little mischievous.
"And then you came back right after finishing your investigation," she continued, her tone dripping with interest. "You must've been really stressed, right? Tell me, Detective—how does it feel to solve mysteries one after another? I can't even imagine it. I've never been anywhere near a crime scene."
I chuckled, stirring my coffee slowly. The spoon clinked gently against the cup. "Well, honestly… I don't even know what to feel anymore," I said, watching the ripples in the dark liquid. "The thrill's not the same as it used to be back in the academy. These days, I'd rather just sit here, drink coffee, and talk with a lady like you."
Her laugh was soft, but it carried that teasing melody I'd grown used to hearing from her.
"Oh my, I didn't realize you were such a flirter," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "But aren't I a little too old for your taste? There must be plenty of other women you could charm instead. You're a good-looking man, Detective—any woman would fall for you easily."
Her tone was playful, but the faint color on her cheeks betrayed her. She liked the attention, even if she pretended otherwise.
"Well, I don't know about that," I said, meeting her gaze with a half-smile. "I like busty women even more."
She laughed, a low, throaty chuckle that lingered for a second. "Fufufufu, you're such a joker," she said, shaking her head slightly. "But I get it—men have their preferences. And women do too. Some of us like younger men. When a younger guy tells you you're his type… well, it makes a woman feel tingly. Maybe even a bit younger again."
"Then what about you?" I asked, raising a brow. "Which side are you on?"
"Hmmm…" She tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving mine. "I think I'm on the side that feels really good when a younger man says I'm his type," she said, her voice dropping to a gentle purr as she rested her cheek on her hand.
That's when I felt it. It was a light touch against my leg. Her foot brushed against me under the table. My breath hitched, just barely.
She smiled, clearly noticing my reaction. "Fufufu, looks like you liked that," she teased. "You know, I'm really thankful for what you did earlier. Seeing a gentleman like you handle that situation… it made my heart race. I haven't felt that way in years. You made me feel young again—like I was falling in love for the first time."
Her foot continued tracing lazy, teasing circles along my leg, sending small shivers up my spine. Her gaze was fixed on me, eyes half-lidded with her lips curved in a knowing grin.
"I don't know how to take that, madam," I said, returning her smile, "but I like where this is going."
Then—thud.
Something fell under the table. The sound was soft but distinct, like rubber hitting tile. Her shoe, most likely. She'd slipped it off. My pulse jumped as my mind filled with possibilities.
She looked at me again, eyes glinting like she was reading my thoughts.
"Fufufu, I love that look on your face, Detective," she purred. "It's not every day I get to talk to a man like you. And to think—the same detective just called me his type…"
I took another slow sip of my coffee, doing my best to keep steady even as her bare foot inched higher, brushing dangerously close to that spot between my legs.
But just before she reached it—
Ding.
The door opened. The wind chime above rang cheerfully, completely shattering the tension.
"Fufufu, what a shame," she said with a playful wink, drawing her foot back as smoothly as she'd started. She stood, smoothing her pants. "Looks like we've got a customer."
With that, she walked off toward the counter, her steps slow and teasing, hips swaying with every stride.
I sat there, silent, staring at the coffee that suddenly didn't taste quite as good.
Damn. What a missed opportunity.
I waited for that chance to show itself again, but that damn window just refused to open. It was like the universe was mocking me, dangling what I wanted right in front of me and then snatching it away the second I reached for it.
Customers kept pouring in one after another, filling up every seat. I didn't care about any of them. All I could focus on was her.
The waitress.
She kept throwing me those sneaky glances, the kind that made my blood stir. Like she couldn't get enough of seeing me squirm there, sitting with this frustrated look plastered all over my face. She knew what she was doing to me. That smug little smile, that teasing sparkle in her eyes... it was like she was feeding off my suffering.
She had gotten so damn close earlier, dangerously close to hitting the spot. Just a little more and I would've exploded right then and there. But no—she pulled back. Stopped. Left me hanging. And now I was sitting here, blue-balled beyond belief. It fucking sucked. My whole body felt restless, and no matter how much I tried to calm myself down, I just couldn't.
So, I waited.
And waited.
Hours slipped by, the sun moved across the sky, and still, the diner stayed busy. Plates clattered, people laughed, and I just sat there, nursing the same half-empty cup of coffee like some lovesick idiot who couldn't let go.
Then, out of nowhere, she walked by again, that teasing tone dripping from her lips as she said, "Fufufufu, you want to stay for more, detective?"
I looked up at her and smirked. "Well, I can stay for a bit more," I said, trying to keep my cool even though my pulse was racing.
She chuckled, that same low, sultry laugh that sent a tingle crawling down my spine. That mischievous, seductive smile of hers... it was lethal.
And goddamn, the way she moved... it was like she was putting on a show just for me. Every sway of her hips as well as every subtle bounce of her thick, luscious thighs... That perfect ass of hers shifted just right, teasing me with every motion, making me imagine things I shouldn't be thinking about in public. It was torture, but the kind I couldn't look away from.
She knew exactly what she was doing. And I knew exactly what I wanted.
There was no way I was walking away now. Not after we came so close earlier, just a breath away from crossing home base. No fucking way.
Tonight, I was going to reach home base with her. That was final. I wasn't leaving until it happened.
I wanted to fuck her.
Then she came back again, her eyes locking with mine before she placed something gently on the table. A small folded piece of paper. Her fingers brushed close to mine as she set it down, her nails grazing the surface just enough to make my skin twitch.
I looked down and opened it.
"Wait for me. I'll take an early leave."
That was all it said. It was short and simple. But it hit harder than any sentence could.
My heart pounded in my chest. I could feel the rush of heat spreading through my veins. It was that mix of excitement and hunger. My breathing grew heavier and my throat was dry.
I looked up, and there she was again, turning her head just enough to meet my eyes. Then she winked.
Yeah… that was all the confirmation I needed.
Tonight, I was going to reach home base with her.
And I can't fucking wait.