<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/de/46/00/de460000d103b2a84c5891d8aeb1819e.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Wyatt Colton Faulkner (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12370769#msg12370769)<br/><strong>City | Date | Time:</strong>St. Cloud, Minnesota | I-Hop | January 2014 | 11:30 p.m.<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Silky Levres (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12373275#msg12373275)<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Another day, Another dollar<br/><hr/><br/><em>I, uh... I do a lot of contract work, in the, uh, 'hospitality' industry. </em><br/><br/>Either Silky did not want him to know her chosen profession or she was lying about where she worked. Mouth twisted into a frown, Wyatt did swallowed the rising urge to further question or call her out about the increasingly obvious lie between them. Sure, it was permissible for servers to make small talk with their customers, especially the alone ones, but he had crossed a clear line. One of the many reasons why it was ill advised for him to weight on tables. His place belonged in the back, washing dishes and out of sight like some hunchback. Too bad his manager refused to accept that fact of life.<br/><em>I spend a lot of time in and around hotels...</em><br/><br/>“So you’re a prostitute?” He asked the question of her, speaking the term she did not let fall from her chapped lips. It had taken a lot out of him to speak it himself because he could not be certain if it was an acceptable term. In the end, he determined it was the best option since the rest sounded too vulgar to speak aloud when in reference to her. Silky did not need to answer the question since her explanations made the truth obvious. Part of him could not help but wonder if she told him about it because she wanted to feel out if he would offer money for her services or if she sought to scare him away from her table.<br/><br/><em>S-sorry for being so weird.</em><br/><br/>He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s usually my line or some variation of it.” Wyatt smiled a little at her before he shook his head in order to further reassure her. “You’re alright. I shouldn’t have asked so it’s my fault.” Just then, he glanced down and noticed her coffee mug was nearly halfway empty. The least he could do if he was going to linger around her like some lost three legged puppy was ensure he provided her with semi-decent service.<br/><br/>It was then Silky started to lift the bulky sweater from her form. Truthfully, he had noticed them at first, her breasts, since there were too many other distractions, such as the state of her filthy close and the look of despair in her eyes. Since his gaze had already been turned downward, he got a full view of her little show, which was her intention. Inhaling deep, he admired the curve of her breasts before he turned away seconds before the show drew to a close, disgusted with himself.<br/><br/>“I’ll get y-you a r-refill,” he announced, already moving away from the table before he finished the statement. His step was quick and he nearly bumped into a table in his effort to put some space between them. For a few minutes, he hid out in the back, uncertain how to proceed. When Ed informed him the order was finished, there was no other choice but to head back out there. He grabbed the steaming plate in one hand and the pot of coffee in the other.<br/><br/>“Sorry about that delay,” Wyatt muttered a bit incomprehensibly as he set the plate of food in front of her and then refilled her coffee. “Uh. Don’t worry about the food. It’s on the house. I get a free meal each shift. I decided to give mine to you. You won’t believe it but eventually pancakes start tasting like cardboard.” It was a lie but she did not need to know it. He would be adding his tip money into the register before the night’s completion. “I’ll be over there. Just give me a holler if you need anything.”<br/>