The Friday Night Special
Part 2

written by Barb

Barb: The Waitress

I can not believe who has just been given a table in
my section. I can not believe that I am going to have
to wait on this gentleman again. What if he
recognizes me? I quickly hand him and his date menus
and get the heck out of there.

Hiding in the kitchen I peek out the crack of the
door. How will I ever face him long enough to take
his order? This man was the star performer in what
was probably the worst day of my life. It has been
months since that night, but I can feel the skin of my
bottom start to tingle just thinking about it. I had
just finished taking mid-term test and was longing to
get this shift over with so that I could join my
friends at the local western dance bar. Most of my
other friends have parents that can afford to foot the
bill for all their college expenses. Even though
grants and scholarships are paying for my education, I
have got to have this job to pay of all the other
things that seem to creep up unexpectedly. My shift
is almost over when a small group of people come in
and sit down in my section.

Damn, I think, I will never get out of here on time
now. I am a little frustrated and impatient when I go
over to take their order. I am anxious to get out of
there and am only half paying attention. One man, the
one sitting here at my table right now, goes on and on
about exactly how he wants his food prepared. I
pretend to listen but have no intention of telling the
cook all these particular instructions. It will take
forever if it is prepared this way and I want to get
out of here sometime tonight.

I remember drumming my fingers on the counter top
willing the food to cook faster. Finally it is ready
and I carry it out to the table. I pray that Mr.
Fussy will just shut up and eat what he is given.
Could I be that lucky? No of course not. He was
furious, as it was quite obvious that none of his
instructions had been followed. When he insisted that
I send it back to the kitchen, I wanted to pick it up
and dump it in his lap. My friends would probably all
have decided to go somewhere else to party by the time
I finally made it to the dance hall.

I stormed into the kitchen, and told Marc, the cook
that the man had changed his order. He looked at me
suspiciously but didn't say anything, he just got busy
preparing things to the "gentleman's" specific orders.
I was so furious. It was 20 minutes after the time I
was suppose to have gotten off. When the food was
finally prepared, AGAIN. I yanked the plate out of
Marc's hand and stocked back into the dinning area.

I didn't mean to do it, really I didn't. After all
it would only have delayed my getting out of there
that much longer. I was trying to carefully set the
plate down when the next thing I knew the food was
sitting in the man's lap. He jumped up and began
yelling at me. He was just sure that I had done it on
purpose. Marc came out of the kitchen to see what all
the commotion was. When he saw what had happened he
was furious, because he assumed that I had done it on
purpose, too.

Marc wanted me fired immediately. Suddenly I realized
just how important this job was to me and began to beg
him to please not fire me. I was getting desperate.
I had to keep this job. I could feel the tears
welling up in my eyes. Suddenly I had "help" from an
unexpected person. He asked it he could speak to Marc
privately for just a moment. As the two of them
walked to a quiet corner, I got busy cleaning up the
mess.

When the two of them came back Marc had a funny little
smile hovering around his lips, that did not bode well
for things to come. Marc said that "Ron" had come up
with another method that would appease him and if I
agreed to it He would allow me to keep my job. I
immediately agreed to do what ever he asked.

Ron spoke quietly to his friends and they got up and
let. Marc had refused to let anyone in the group pay
for their food that night, so they left pleased with
the offer of a free dinner. As soon as they left a
disturbing silence settled over the restaurant. I
turned to look at Ron. "What do you want me to do I
asked, do you want me to have your clothes dry
cleaned?"

"No," Ron says, "I have something a little more
physical in mind."

I had looked at him quizzically, more physical, what
did he mean.

At this point Marc was grinning broadly, and I began
to get a little frightened.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked cautiously. I
really needed to keep this job, but if Ron suggested
what I though he was going to suggest, I intended to
slap his face, walk out of there and file sexual
harassment charges on Marc.

"The only way you are going to keep this job is if you
accept a spanking from me for purposely messing up my
clothes. That is what you deserve and it is the only
payment I expect." Ron crossed his arms and gave me a
long measured look.

At first I was stunned, then I began to laugh. "A
spanking? I think I am a little too old for a
spanking. Besides it was just an accident. I said I
would pay to get them cleaned and that should be
enough." I stopped laughing because I was the only
one of the three of us here who seemed to think this
was funny.

"He is not kidding, Barbara," said Marc. "That is the
only way you will be allowed to keep this job. I
personally, am all for firing you. You have behaved
like a spoiled brat all evening and spilling food on
this man was the final straw. Now you either agree to
accept his punishment or you're out."

I looked back and forth at the two men. They weren't
kidding. I quickly assessed my options, If I lost
this job I would probably have to quit school. I only
had one more semester until graduation. And anyway,
how bad could it be? If children could survive a
spanking so could I.
Not really feeling that I had any other choice, I
said. "Oh all right. If it makes you feel like some
kind of macho man then go ahead. I'll take your
stupid spanking."

Ron didn't even bat an eye at my insult. He looked
at Marc, let's take this into the kitchen area so that
we can have a little privacy. Marc looked at the
large glass windows and agreed. The two of them
turned and walked in that direction. For just a
moment I considered running out the front door. But
no, I couldn't afford to loose this job. I meekly
followed them into the kitchen area. By this time all
the other workers had left for the evening and we were
alone with the pots and pans.

Ron picked up a large rubber spatula and then seated
himself in the straight back chair that usually sat in
an empty corner. "All right come here," he said.

Marc had kind of melted into the woodwork and I was
not conscious of anyone except Ron and I being in that
kitchen. I looked at that spatula and shook my head.
He surely wasn't intending to hit me with that
"thing." Ron crooked his finger and I walked towards
him as if I were on a string.

"Lift up your skirt," he said, "and lay yourself
across my lap." I moved as if I was in a trance not
really believing this was happening. I slipped my
short waitress skirt up and awkwardly positioned
myself across his thighs. My heart was pounding and
my breath was coming in short jerky puffs.

I felt him reach down and slid his thumb between the
small of my back and the elastic of my panties.
"Something you need to know," he said, "my spankings
are always given on the bare bottom." With that he
stripped my panties down to my knees.

"Noooooo," I wailed, but it was too late. The first
whack of that spatula landed on my left butt cheek. I
screeched like a scalded cat and began to struggle
violently to get away. Ron just pulled my body a
little tighter up against his and continued to apply
whack after whack. I hadn't known anything could hurt
as bad as that spatula did every time it connected.
Smack, smack, Whack, thwack, each spank felt like I
was being stung by a million bees. "Oouuucccchhhh,
stop…..please no more. I am sooorrrreeee. I'll never
do it again, I promise!"

"I am sure you won't, young lady," replied Ron. He
never slowed down the pace but just continued with his
reign of fire. He spanked first one cheek, then the
other, sometimes down low, sometimes at the upper
swell of my buttocks. I was sure that he was going to
kill me as I was having trouble catching my breath.
"No more, stop!" I sobbed. "I'll be good, I'll be
good." I was becoming hysterical in my pleas for an
end to this torment.

Ron, stopped for a second and I felt his hand come
down to rub gently on my scorching bottom. "Why are
you getting this spanking? he asked.
I sobbed out the required answer. "Because I spilled
food on you." I wailed.

"And why else?" he continued to question. At that
point I felt like my only reality was the sound of his
voice and my burning bottom. My defenses had been
stripped away as surely as my panties had. "Because I
was rude, and I purposely didn't tell the cook how you
wanted your food cooked."

"And you dumped the food on me on purpose, didn't
you?" he asked.

I hesitated, not sure I wanted to reveal that much.
"YEEOOOOWWW!" the spatula bit into my bottom again
and then again before I could answer. "Yes," I wailed
"I did it on purpose." Sobs came ripping up and out
of my chest. "I'm s…s….s…..orry," I sobbed. "I am
sooo sor…r…r…ryyy."

Ron's only answer was to push me a little farther
forward so that the crease where my bottom meet my
thighs was stretched tightly. He tapped me on that
crease lightly. "I am going to give you 20 more, 10
on the top of each thigh, and then we will call it
even," he said.

"No, please nooo," I begged. But nothing could deter
Ron now that the sentence had been passed. The
spatula landed exactly were he said it would and
finally I collapsed limply across his legs and could
no longer beg for an end to this spanking. I could
only sob and endure as the spatula landed again and
again. I knew without a doubt that I would not be
sleeping on my back that night, nor sitting
comfortably for days to come. How could I have
laughed at the possibility of a spanking? I had never
dreamed anything could hurt like this did.

Finally, I realized Ron had stopped not by the
lessening of pain as my bottom seemed to continue to
get hotter and hotter, but by the gentle way he was
lifting me to my feet. My legs were trembling so hard
that I wasn't sure they would be able to support me,
but I danced around rubbing my bottom in an effort to
lessen the pain.

I looked at Marc. He seemed stunned by what he had
just witnessed. He opened his arms and I flew into
them. He held me tight and I sobbed into his chest as
he gently stroked my hair. "You'll be all right," he
comforted me, "It will feel better in a few day."

No it won't I wanted to scream, but I was not anxious
for a repeat so I just held my tongue and continued to
cry. Even though I made no effort to stop the flow of
my tears I gradually began to quiet. Marc reached
down and pulled my forgotten panties back up. I
winced as he pulled them across the still flaming
skin. Straightening my skirt he turned me around to
face Ron. "I want you to apologize to Ron one more
time and then thank him for this spanking. Then you
may go home for the evening."

I looked at Ron, but at this point defiance was the
last thing on my mind. "I am sorry I was such a brat
and dumped food on you." I swallowed convulsively
before I could go on. "And…..and…..and….thank you for
giving me this spanking instead of letting Marc fire
me." I was so embarrassed at being required to say
that that the tears welled up in my eyes again and
rolled down my cheeks.

Ron came over and gave me a big hug. "You're
forgiven," he said and gave me a gentle kiss. I took
off, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. When I
had arrived home I had gone into the bathroom and
taken my panties down to surveyed the damages. Both
my butt cheeks and the tops of my thighs were bright
red. I had lost all desire to join my friends at the
dance hall and had just crawled naked into my bed.
Even the feel of the covers was very painful. I had
quietly cried my self to sleep that night, vowing
never to do such a stupid thing again.

And now here he was again. Sitting calmly at that
table. As I stood there peeking out the door shocked
at the reappearance of the man who had so thoroughly
blistered my backside, I felt a sting smack connect
with my bottom. "Yeouch! " I yelled and whirled
around to see Marc.

"Why are you hiding here?" he said. "You have
customers to wait on." Since that fateful night Marc
had never hesitated to spank me if he felt my work was
not up to his standards. I had quickly become a model
waitress.

"It's HIM!" I whisper.

"I know," Marc says calmly and hands me two glasses of
water. Another sharp smack to my backside sends me
headed toward their table.

I set the glasses of water down and ask them if they
are ready to order. I still don't know if Ron
recognizes me, as he has given no indication that he
does. I relax just a little. "May I take your
order?" I ask politely. The woman with Ron asks me
to describe the specials. I go through the daily
specials until I get to rump roast. I stumble over
the words and feel a hot blush creep up my face. With
out realizing it one hand reaches back to cover my
bottom.

Ron immediately speaks up, "I'll have the rump
roast." He smiles and I know that he is remembering
everything.

I try to pretend that I don't remember him and ask,
"How would you like it done, sir?"

Ron laughs slightly and I feel my already flushed
cheeks blush even brighter. "Well done, please. And
does that come with hot buns?" he asks. The woman
with him stares at my embarrassment and I wonder if
she knows everything that has happened. I can't look
at her and have to stare at the floor. She leans over
to Ron and whispers to him. He laughs and whispers
back. I am absolutely mortified. The woman is no
longer able to meet my eyes and I know that he as told
her what he did to me. Sensing my embarrassment she
quickly says that she will have the same thing Ron is
having.

"Yes," Ron concurs, "we will both have the rump roast
and be careful with our order this time."

Nodding my head, I flee for the safety of the kitchen.
I get the ice tea that they order and carry it
carefully back to their table. I am so careful as I
set the tea down. There must not me any mishap
tonight. I leave quickly and get the hot buns for
their table. As I set them down, Anna asks for me to
bring her a glass full of whiskey. I go to the bar
and as I am pouring the whiskey, Marc goes over to the
table and slaps Ron on the back. I hear the two of
them laughing and talking but I can't understand the
words. I cross back over to their table and set the
glass of whiskey down in front of Anna. Before Ron
has a chance to say anything she picks it up and takes
a big gulp.

Marc and I look at Ron and then look at the woman.
Something strange is going on here.

End of Part 2....To be continued