21 – Working It (1)

 

Sebastian arrived at Callahan Mansion, bright and early for his first day of work. He wore one of his nicer button-up shirts, and dress pants, though he hadn’t a clue what Barry had planned for him. He’d probably end up in some sort of uniform.

Barry met him at the entrance hall, and let out a whistle. “Nice outfit.”

“Thank you?”

“A bit too nice, for what you’ll be doing.”

“You never told me what I would be doing.”

“True, true. Not even I know what you’re doing!”

Sebastian gaped at him.

“I’m doing your father a favor here.” Barry stroked his chin, studying him. “What should we have you do? Gardening? Cleaning? Kitchen duty? Serving customers?”

They all sounded awful in different ways. “Whichever one pays the most.”

Barry laughed. “They all pay the same!”

The front-facing positions meant he wouldn’t have to wear the ratty, ugly clothes the regular servants wore. “Serving customers.”

“Sounds great. Follow me.”

Next thing he knew, Sebastian was in the restaurant. He was allowed to wear the clothes he arrived in, but someone gave him a black suit jacket, with red trim.

There were three waiters and waitresses who worked there. But only one was actually working that day. Jenny. The chef, Gerald, was their supervisor.

“Jenny will show you what to do,” Gerald said, after Sebastian put on the jacket. They stood in the kitchen, while a servant wiped down the counters and stove tops.

Jenny was a young, blonde woman. She wore a ridiculous amount of eye makeup and a smile to match. “You’re the mayor’s son, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“And you better not expect special treatment for it,” Gerald grumbled.

“How’d you end up working here?” Jenny asked.

“I needed a job. My dad’s best friends with Barry.”

“Jolly.” Jenny opened a drawer under the counter, and pulled out two tablets. “It’s not hard to learn. First, you’re gonna need one of these.”

Sebastian picked up a tablet, and turned it on. A white screen came up, with a large green button shaped like a microphone at the bottom-center, and a small blue arrow button next to it.

“When you go to take a customer’s order, press that button.” Jenny pointed to the green button. “It will type it for you. When you’re done, hit that blue button to send the information straight to the kitchen.”

It sounded too easy. “That’s it?”

“No. You also have to type in the table number, here.” Jenny tapped at a square on the top right corner of the screen. A cursor blinked. “Number first, then green button, then blue button, then back to the kitchen.”

“How do I know what each table number is?”

Jenny led Sebastian out of the kitchen, and into the empty dining area filled with tables. She pointed to the closest one to the left. “1.” She pointed to the one behind it. “2.” The one behind that. “3… all the way up to that back wall. The one next to it is 6. In front of it, 7. In front of that, 8. All the way up to us. Then, it snakes over to here.” Jenny pointed to the table directly to their right. “11.” The one above it. “12… and so on.”

15 tables total that Sebastian needed to memorize. At least a lot of it came down to basic counting.

Jenny led Sebastian back to the kitchen. “When the food is ready, we carry it to whatever table ordered it.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“It’s hard when we’re busy. But mornings are usually slow.”

Just then, an elderly couple walked in, and sat at a table. Sebastian mentally counted to it. “Table 8?”

“Yep. I’ll let you take this one.” Jenny patted his shoulder, and left.

Sebastian would rather have Jenny stay to guide him. Too late for that. He forced a smile as he walked up to the customers. “Can I take your order?”

“We just sat down. You haven’t given me a chance to look at the menu yet.” The old man picked up a tablet in the center of the table, and scrolled through.

“I already know what I want,” the old woman said.

“Now there’s a first,” the old man grumbled.

“What’s the supposed to mean?”

Sebastian figured he should wait until both of them knew what they wanted. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide then.”

“No, I know what I want.” The man put the tablet aside. “I want-”

“Hang on.” Sebastian entered an 8 in the text box, then tapped the green button. “Okay. Sorry. Go on.” Sebastian’s words appeared on the screen. Hopefully that wouldn’t mess with anything.

“Bacon and eggs with three slices of toast.”

The tablet only recorded “bacon.” “Sorry, could you repeat that a little louder?”

“Bacon and eggs, with three slices of toast!” the man yelled.

Sebastian jumped, but the tablet recorded everything this time. A question in bold text appeared: How do you want the eggs cooked?

“How do you want the eggs cooked?” Sebastian asked.

“Sunny-side up.”

The screen recorded it. Sebastian addressed the woman. “And you?”

“I’m not sure…”

The man buried his face in his hands.

“What do you recommend?” the woman asked.

Sebastian rarely ate breakfast at the mansion, but remembered having their pancakes before. “The pancakes are good.”

“Pancakes then. With bacon.”

The screen had stopped recording. Did it have some sort of time limit? With a sigh, Sebastian tapped the green button again. “Sorry. Can you repeat that?”

“Pancakes then. With bacon!” the woman shouted.

It registered. Sebastian clicked the small blue arrow and the text disappeared, replaced by an “order sent” message. He looked back at the customers. Now what was he supposed to say? “Uhh… I’ll come back with your orders?” Sebastian forced another smile, and went back into the kitchen.

“Did it go through?” Sebastian asked Jenny.

“Yep. It shows up on that screen there.” Jenny gestured towards a screen near the stove. “Gerald sees it there, and he makes it.” Jenny peeked through a large gap in the wall that gave a clear view of the dining area. “Another customer. I’ll handle this one.”

 

~~~~~

 

Jake was in the middle of a texting conversation with Axel. Axel had the day off, but Jake had to leave for work in a few hours. He watched three moving dots as Axel continued typing his answer to Jake’s initial question.

A bear. I once heard a story about someone who survived a bear attack by shoving his fist down his throat, and the bear backed off because they have gag reflexes. I don’t think that’s the case with cougars.

Jake’s mind went straight to the gutter. Gag reflexes huh? Do you have one?

You’ve got a filthy mind.

It’s an innocent question.

Bullshit. You’re thinking of your cock in my mouth.

Damn. Axel had never texted anything like that before. Could Jake finally get him to sext? He texted back. Maybe. What are you gonna do about it?

A text came through, but not from Axel. Jake switched to a screen of Maple’s texts.

I’m soooo bored. In math class. Entertain me!

Jake took a few seconds to appreciate the fact he was no longer in school, then responded. Would you rather be attacked by a bear or a cougar?

Axel sent a text. Jake switched back to texts from him.

Maybe I’d rather it be my cock down your throat.

Jake wanted to make a snarky comment about how Axel wouldn’t go any farther than frotting, but figured he should be grateful he’d gotten h to sext. Maybe another look at my cock will change your mind.

What? You gonna send me a picture?

Only if you wanna see how hard you’re making me.

I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t actually send me a dick pic.

Axel should know Jake well enough to figure out he had no problem taking and sending nudes. This was probably his way of saying he wanted one, without being obvious about it. Is that a challenge?

I dare you.

A text from Maple came through. Jake switched to that.

A cougar, of course. Bears are bigger and harder to fight off.

Axel says if you shove your arm down a bear’s throat, it’ll leave you alone.

With that sent, Jake stripped from the waist down, and prepared his dick for a picture.

 

~~~~~

 

Maple sat in the very back row in her math class, listening to Mr. Johnson drone on about imaginary numbers. Everyone sat at small individual desks. Kyra was next to her with her chin in her hand, watching the teacher. Maple held her secret phone under her desk, wondering how to respond to Jake’s text. Bringing the phone to school was risky, but she figured it was no riskier than leaving it hidden at home. Her brothers had snooped around her room before.

Her phone vibrated. She peeked at it, and bit back a scream. She tapped the power button, heart racing and face flushed. Why had Jake texted her that?!

“What the fuck?” Kyra whispered next to her.

Did she see it? Swallowing, Maple slipped her phone into her pocket, and locked her eyes on the white board.

“Who sent you that?”

“No one. Nothing.” Her face must be bright red.

“Was that Jake’s?”

Mr. Johnson cleared his throat. “Ladies, is there something you want to share with the class?”

“No, sorry,” Maple said.

Kyra apologized too, and Mr. Johnson resumed teaching. The phone vibrated in her pocket several times, but Maple didn’t dare check it.

Next to her, Kyra quietly tore off a sheet of graph paper from her notebook and folded it up. When the teacher had his back to them, she slipped it to Maple. Maple unfolded the note under the desk.

Why is Jake texting you pictures of his privates???

Maple shot her a look. Kyra raised her eyebrows. Maple exhaled through her nose, and wrote back. I don’t know. It must have been by mistake. She waited for the teacher to look away, and handed the note to Kyra.

A couple minutes later, Kyra handed back the note. Who was it meant for then? You never told me he had a girlfriend.

Because he didn’t have a girlfriend, but Jake had told Maple about his sexuality and his boyfriend in confidence. She didn’t want to out him. Kyra stared at her, so Maple simply shrugged. Kyra tilted her head, widening her eyes.

“Girls!”

Maple and Kyra looked up at Mr. Johnson, who had strode over to them. His eyes landed on the paper in Maple’s hand. He snatched it. “How about we see what’s so important that couldn’t wait until after class.”

That caught everyone’s attention. Maple sunk in her seat, knowing there was no use in arguing with him.

Mr. Johnson cleared his throat. “Why is Jake texting you pictures of his privates?”

The class roared with laughter. As if Maple hadn’t been red enough. The teacher altered his voice to a higher pitch as he read Maple’s line. “I don’t know. It must have been by mistake.”

Maple sunk lower as everyone snickered and giggled.

“Who was it meant for then? You never told me he had a girlfriend.” Mr. Johnson crumpled up the note, and looked at Maple. “So, who was it meant for?”

Maple stared at her desk, trying to block out the sound of laughter.

“Does this also mean you were texting in class as well?”

Maple dared to look up at him. He held his hand out, palm up.

“I put it away in my backpack,” Maple said.

“I don’t care. Give it to me.”

“Fine.” Maple picked up her backpack from the floor, and pulled her regular phone out from it. She handed it over.

“You can have this back after class.”