We're waiting in the bar to be seated when a waitress, extremely cute in a medium-height blond, slightly thick, Streisand-faced way starts apologizing to the bartender for some mistake.

"Two demerits," says the bartender, smiling, "I'm going to have to take you out back and have my way with you."

So all through dinner all I can think about is this image of the blond waitress in an alley behind the restaurant, up against the wall, blouse and bra undone, pants down just enough that the bartender, slightly shorter, definitely older, with that slightly craggy look of life experience, the dirtier blond pony tail, the wiry almost muscular body, her own nipples hard as rock, can fit her hand between the waitress's legs, one, two, three fingers up inside that beautiful blond cunt, pumping, rubbing, tickling, mouth sucking alternately at her breasts, the waitress coming, wondering in half formed questions how this could possibly be discouraging her from making the same mistake again.