The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

The elevator doors opened on the sixteenth floor and The Waiter took my hand.

“Let’s give ‘em something new to talk about,” he said. When he opened the door to his apartment, I was shocked at how different it looked at night. I was greeted by the most beautiful view of the Upper West Side through the two large windows that faced his bed, which was directly to the left of the entrance. He didn’t even bother turning on the light. He just kissed me. It was passionate and deep and all-consuming. It was also long overdue. I’d missed him so much. I took off my leather jacket as he was kissing me and threw it on the floor. He lifted my sweater over my head. Then he took off his shirt and sat down on the side of the bed. He pulled me over until I was standing right in front of him. He put his hands on my waist and kissed my stomach.

“Still tickles,” I said as I ran my fingers through his hair. He unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down. I stepped out of them. He pulled me onto the bed and positioned himself on top of me. Then he started kissing my neck.

“Oh my god I’ve missed that smell,” he said.

“My perfume or my sweat?”

“Both.” He sat up with his knees on either side of my hips, exposing his insanely sculpted six-pack. “In fact, I missed the smell of you so much that I went to Macy’s and sniffed every Gucci perfume until I found the one you wear.”

“You did not.”

“I can prove it,” he said. He reached over to the side table and opened the drawer. I ran my hand down his left side just so I could feel his muscles. I couldn’t decide which was sexier. The view of The Waiter sitting on top of me without his shirt on or the view of the San Remo through the window behind him. From the drawer, he pulled out two boxes. One was a box of condoms. “We’ll definitely be needing these,” he said. The other was a box of Gucci Rush.

“Wow, the big one. That’s not cheap. The salesperson must have seen you coming from a mile away.”

“Yeah. I just told her I wanted to buy perfume for my girlfriend and that I knew it was Gucci but wasn’t sure which one.” He sat the box over on the table. “I guess you can have this now.”

I smiled up at him. “So, I’m your girlfriend?”

“You want me to prove that too?”

“I think you better.”

And prove it he did. The sex was on a different level than last time. Slower. More intimate. More intense. Honestly, I could have orgasmed just on the smell of his hair alone if I’d had to. But I didn’t. I fell asleep with my head on his chest, looking out the window at the city that had been watching us voyeuristically the whole time.

When the alarm went off at six, I leaned over him and hit the snooze. He pulled me over on top of him.

“You can’t go,” he said. “It’s still dark outside.”

“I have to go home and shower and get ready for work.”

“One more hour,” he pleaded. I couldn’t say no. His groggy morning voice was just too sexy. So I stayed for one more hour and two happy endings. For both of us. When I got up to put my clothes on, The Waiter grabbed my wrist.

“Oh my god! Did I do that to you last night?” He was referring to the bruise on my arm.

“No, you didn’t.” I wasn’t going to lie to him about its origins.

“Do I even have to ask?” He sat up in the bed and took a closer look at my arm.

“No, you don’t.”

“I will fucking kill him.”

“He’s not worth it, and that’s beyond over. And not to make excuses or anything, but that was the first - and the last - time he ever left a mark on me.”

“It was definitely the last,” The Waiter said. Then he kissed my arm and just held me for a minute. Afterwards, I left and took a cab back to my apartment and got ready for work.

And now I sit here, trying to do just that. Work. The phone on my desk started ringing. I answered.

“We need to talk.” It was Dalton. Suddenly, I was jolted out of my decadent daydream and back in my never-ending nightmare.

“I can’t talk. I’m at work.”

“Meet me downstairs right now or I’m coming up.”

Mother-fucker.

“You can’t be near my building, Dalton. Meet me at the Starbucks on the corner.” I figured at least I’d be surrounded by other people there.

“Fine,” he said and hung up.

I grabbed my bag and pretended to be talking on my cell phone as I headed towards the elevator. I didn’t want George to ask where I was going or offer to go with me. When I walked into Starbucks, Dalton was sitting at the counter by the window, almost in the exact same spot The Waiter had sat when I’d had my job interview. That made me even angrier.

“What the actual fuck, Dalton?”

“Sit down, Sam,” he said. I didn’t.

“Say what you’ve gotta say and then I’m going back to work.”

“Where are you living?”

“Why do you care?”

“Are you living with him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“If my girlfriend is shacking up with another guy, then yeah, it’s my business.”

“I’m not your girlfriend anymore. You wanted me out, remember?’

“You know I didn’t mean that.” He reached for my hand.

“Don’t even think about touching me.”

“I know you’re pissed, Sam. But I fucking moved here for you. I did all of this for you. Can’t we just work it out?”

“No, we can’t. Now leave me alone. I mean it, Dalton.” I turned around and left him sitting there.

“You know you’ll come back,” he said as I walked away. “You always do.”

I didn’t even bother to look back at him. Not this time, asshole. Not this time.