Table of Contents
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Copyright Warning
~ Dedication ~
GLOSSARY OF WAITING ON AND KITCHEN TERMS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
~ About the Author ~
~ Also by Bella Settarra ~
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I was completely caught up in this moving and passionate romance from the very beginning and the author has created an intriguing setting with some sexy sounding characters that has caught my attention and I can’t wait to get to know them all better.”
—Night Owl Reviews
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Now Available
The Men of Moone Mountain Series
Ménage on Moone Mountain (Book One)
Red-Light Wrangler (Book Two)
The Collars and Cuffs Series
Waiting on Summer (Book One)
Waiting on Tuesday (Book Two)
Waiting on Tuesday
Collar and Cuffs Book Two
Bella Settarra
Copyright Warning
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published By
Etopia Press
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Oak Ridge, TN 37830
http://www.etopiapress.com
Waiting on Tuesday
Copyright © 2015 by Bella Settarra
ISBN: 978-1-941692-82-0
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: May 2015
~ Dedication ~
For Jaimie. Keep a tight hold on your dreams—they do come true!
GLOSSARY OF WAITING ON AND KITCHEN TERMS
This is a list of some of the terminology used in the Collar and Cuffs series. Some terms may differ between establishments and/or countries.
Waiting on—the term used for serving customers in a restaurant.
Silver Service—the practice of serving each item of food separately using a fork and spoon (occasionally two forks or two spoons depending on food). Term refers to the use of silverware—food is served from silver platters/dishes with silver cutlery.
Plate Service—the act of serving meals already plated, usually used in cafés, diners etc.
Dumbwaiter—type of sideboard that is assigned to each station to hold cutlery, cloths, etc.
Station—the area or tables to which a specific waiter/waitress is assigned to serve.
Covers—the number of guests eating, i.e. “set that table for six covers,” or “we served over two hundred covers tonight.”
Deuce—refers to a table of two diners or a party of two.
Busboy/busgirl/busperson—a member of the restaurant staff who is assigned to help the waiting on staff by clearing and setting tables, taking dirty dishes from the restaurant to the dishwasher, etc. (In Britain this person is usually referred to as a commis waiter.)
Bussing—roles performed by a busboy.
Front of house—the area of the restaurant that a customer will usually see.
Back of house—any area of a restaurant that a customer won’t be able to see, usually refers to the kitchen, but can also include changing rooms, utility areas, etc.
The line—the area of the kitchen where waiting on staff wait to receive their food orders. (Sometimes used as in “waiting in line,” “waiting on the line,” etc.)
The window—the area of the kitchen where waiting on staff are passed their food orders. “The line” leads up to this section.
Expeditor (or “expo”)—this person is responsible for overseeing the food leaving the kitchen to be taken to the restaurant. They usually stand by “the window” to monitor quality, speed, etc.
Eight-six—refers to an item that is “off” the menu, or a customer who is being or has been refused service.
“In the weeds”—hellishly busy.
Slammed—not quite “in the weeds” but close to it.
Jumpin—very busy.
“On the fly”—done straight away, i.e. a VIP’s meal may be done “on the fly” so he doesn’t have to wait around for it.
To walk
—to literally walk out of the job; to leave before the end of the shift.
CHAPTER ONE
“What in heaven’s name did you do that fer?” Tuesday O’Leary’s broad Irish accent resounded around the busy restaurant of Collar and Cuffs, and all eyes looked disparagingly toward table twenty-three.
Tutting, she took her serving cloth from the top of the dumb waiter and went over to wipe up the spilled gravy as an elderly gentleman stood up slowly, his chair gouging a deep path through the plush carpet.
“It was an accident. I knocked it,” he murmured, turning a bright shade of scarlet before scurrying off toward the men’s room to clean himself up.
“Is there a problem here?” The calm, commanding voice of Dominic Ray, the handsome Maitre d’, could be heard subtly checking on the waitress, who shook her head sulkily.
“Good. Then I suggest you rectify this mess quickly and get on with serving table twenty-one. They’re waiting for the dessert menu.” His crisp, no-nonsense tone indicated to the watching diners the situation was resolved, and the murmur of polite conversation soon resumed.
As soon as the boss’s back was turned, Tuesday rolled her eyes, swiftly cleared up the spill, and took the now empty gravy boat to the kitchen for a refill.
Dominic threw her a warning look when she re-emerged, and she plastered on her best fake smile as she returned to the table and served her customers.
Tuesday’s attempts to hide her irritation failed miserably, and when the customer from table twenty-nine got up to leave and knocked into the table, causing two crystal wineglasses to smash onto the floor, she’d had just about had enough.
“Holy mother of God! Watch what you’re doing, can’t you?”
she hollered, pulling a chair out of the way and crawling on the floor to collect up the larger pieces of shattered glass.
Dominic was there in a flash. “Tuesday, leave that and take five,” he ordered in a clipped tone.
She felt herself go hot and her face flushed. His expression told her not to argue, and she reluctantly placed the broken glass on the table before leaving the room. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her as she made her way toward the large rest area. Dominic’s steady tone, as he pacified the customers and ordered Summer and Hope to deal with the mess, rankled, and she couldn’t wait to be out of there.
She slumped heavily into a soft chair at the opposite end of the room from the lockers and wiped her face as hot, angry tears started to swamp her cheeks. It was all too much.
After a few minutes she felt a little better and went over to wash her face. She checked the time. Not long before the shift ended. Good. She sighed, relishing the thought of going downstairs to the dungeon. She wanted a good, heavy session tonight. Maybe over the spanking bench, or, better still, the St. Andrew’s cross. She didn’t even mind if the Dom used a crop after the day she’d just had—she’d welcome the bite on her tensed-up body.
“Are you OK?” Heaven had come to find her. Here would be the voice of reason. Heaven always managed to maintain a clear head in a crisis, and the girls loved her for it. Heck, the men loved her for it too. There wasn’t a person in the building who didn’t love Heaven Blake.
Tuesday took a paper towel and wiped over her face, smudging her mascara. “Yeah, I just got a bit sick of those clumsy eedjits, that’s all.” She forced herself to smile at her friend, who gave her a friendly hug.
“We all get days like that,” Heaven assured her. “I think most of the time the punters have had too much to drink, though they’d never admit it.” She chuckled.
“I know the guy with the gravy had—stank of whiskey, he did. Damn well deserved to go home with a wet patch on his pants.” Tuesday thought back to the old man and giggled.
Heaven hugged her a little tighter and laughed too. “They always get their comeuppance, I’m sure of it,” she agreed.
Tuesday took a deep breath. “Well, back to the grind, I suppose.”
“If you’re sure you’re OK?” Heaven smiled at her sympathetically.
“Oh, I’m all right. Don’t you be worrying about me,” Tuesday assured her with a nod.
Heaven linked her arm and Tuesday led the way back to the restaurant. Dominic nodded at them as they walked in, and Heaven gave her another quick hug before going back to her own station.
Tuesday was relieved to see that most of her customers had now left for the night, and Summer was busy re-laying table twenty-three. “Thanks,” she whispered, going over to help.
“That’s OK. Are you all right?” Summer whispered with a kind smile.
“I’m grand.” Tuesday managed a grin, and Summer gave her a quick hug before finishing off the table.
Tuesday went over to serve desserts to table twenty-four, the last of her deuces, before her large party on twenty-seven got up to leave.
“Don’t worry about relaying that one,” Dominic murmured in her ear as she began to clear it. “Just leave it tidy and it can wait until tomorrow.”
Tuesday nodded gratefully. She stacked everything up neatly to show how much she appreciated his kindness. The other bosses she’d had over the years wouldn’t have been so forgiving.
She was relieved when it was time for the curtain call and strolled over to where the rest of the waiting on staff were congregating, ready for Dominic’s round up of the night’s service before they would all be dismissed.
“Well done, everyone. Another very busy service, but you managed to keep your heads and not bite off too many of the customers’.” He stared pointedly at Tuesday and everyone giggled.
Tuesday wasn’t surprised when he ended his little speech with, “Tuesday, a word before you go, please.”
She watched everyone else leave the room and took a deep breath. Always in the shit, she told herself, it was only the depth that varied. Somehow she always seemed to attract trouble for one reason or another.
Dominic peered at her as if he was looking at her very soul. She was accustomed to this type of scrutiny from the Doms of Collar and Cuffs. She often wondered what they could see that no one else could.
“Is everything all right?” he asked eventually.
Tuesday nodded. “Everything’s just hunky-dory, boss. Just had a handful of careless punters tonight, that’s all.” She shrugged.
He frowned. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”
“Yes, Sir.” She didn’t dare look into those gorgeous dark eyes of his.
“OK. Well, get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.” She could tell that he wasn’t convinced, but there was no way she was going to spill her life story. And certainly not to a Dom.
She nodded politely and got out of there as quickly as she could. Everyone had left the changing room by the time she got there, and she was glad not to have to speak to anyone. She quickly undressed and had a quick wash before pulling on a short skirt and a bandeau top. She didn’t bother with shoes, and relished the feel of the cold floor on her bare feet. She had worked at Collar and Cuffs long enough to get used to waiting on in the customary high heels, but she always loved the feeling of comfort when she took them off.
She took the elevator to the lower ground floor and enjoyed the sensation of relief when the doors opened just outside the dungeon. The heavy throb of the music pulsated through her brain, drowning out the nagging thoughts and worries hidden there.
Tuesday lowered her eyes as Roland Dexter, the club owner, passed her on her way into the Bottom Bar, but she quickly looked up again when she heard voices near the door.
“Good evening, Tuesday.” She’d know that deep tone anywhere. It’s what attracted her to the place more than anything else, though she’d never admit it.
“Master Dan. How the devil are ya?” She grinned cheekily at the handsome man, and he shook his head wearily. She could tell his stress didn’t come entirely from her impertinent behavior. Perhaps they could help each other blow off some steam…
“Is that really how you address a Dom?” His deep blue eyes bore into her.
“After the day I’ve had it is, sure enough,” she replied, staring defiantly at him. An excited rush swept through her, and she watched him deciding whether or not to give her what he felt she needed—what she really wanted.
“I can sure see why you were just one warning away from being dismissed early last week. Are you here to play tonight, sub?” His voice was deep and masterful, and filled her with hope.
“I am, Sir. Are you?”
She saw his jaw tense at her response, and could tell he was considering his options. She knew she was playing with fire, acting up when she could so easily be thrown out of the club altogether, but she trusted Dan to sense her need.
“Not really. I’m trying to figure a way to vet all of these new members the boss has invited to the club, but I can see that will have to wait. You, little one, need to be reminded how to behave when you’re addressing a Dom.”
She tried to quell her excitement and rolled her eyes heavenward in an attempt to re-affirm that she did, indeed, need to be taught a lesson.
With a sigh, Dan took her by the arm and led her over to the St. Andrew’s cross. Tuesday didn’t need any instruction. She climbed straight up and positioned herself while he secured her wrists and ankles to the smooth wooden structure. She let out a silent exhale of relief as she allowed herself to sink into the wood.
“I don’t know what the problem is with you, Tuesday O’Leary,” Master Dan was saying sternly. “You have been here long enough to know the correct way to act. Is there any reason why you choose not to behave properly in the club?”
“No sir.” She lied.
She heard him sigh again. “Then maybe a little punishment might remind you of what is expected here.”
She had her back to him, and heard a little reluctance in his voice. Like any good Dom, he was attentive to her needs, and she knew he’d always want to make sure he would be inflicting more pleasure than pain. Soon she heard the sound of the single-tail being whipped through the air a couple of times before it landed with a thwack on her back. She welcomed its sting like a long-lost friend and sank deeper into the wood beneath her, without a sound.
The next hit was slightly harder, followed by another and then another. Tuesday closed her eyes, welcoming the physical pain on her back which temporarily suffocated the mental pain in her heart. She couldn’t get enough of it and relished every stroke. As the leather came crashing onto her skin she imagined it was drowning out the shouting in her head. The force of each sweep pushed away the memories that haunted her, banishing them to the far corners of her mind which even she couldn’t reach. Each stroke on her back was another recollection, another fear, being driven out of her mind and vanquished to kingdom come. She knew they would be back to taunt her before too long, but for now they were gone. Gone, just like…
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