Ethnic sluts share jizz
Karen wiped the sweat from her brow, and touched the pencil to the
pad. The idiots sitting at the booth could not make up their mind, and she
was getting really impatient.
"Um," the guy said. "I'm not quite... sure." He let the last word escape
from his lips as if he couldn't decide whether or not he should even say it.
Karen had to manually force herself to prevent her foot from tapping
against the hard tile floor. She rubbed her palms on her apron, as the 90
degree sweltering heat made her uncomfortable. The airconditioning was
on the blink again, and every time she walked to the kitchen it was like
walking
through hell.
Finally, the guy ordered, and she scribbled it down hurriedly, and went
to fill another customer's coffee cup. Two waitresses short, unbearable
heat, and a lecherous boss were really weighing down on her. The sweat
from her neck had fallen down her chest between her breasts, half tickling
and half itching. She dare not scratch, for fear that her boss would make
some comment about health or something of a sexual nature. She cringed
at the thought.
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