<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/a/ad/Dorakoch.png/383px-Dorakoch.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Dora Koch<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 11th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Der Wafflehaus<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open<br/><hr/><br/>Lord in Heaven, it had been a slow day.  Dora didn’t mind working in Der Wafflehaus, but she sure minded slow days.  Slow days dragged on and on, made it take a little bit more effort to paint a smile on her face.  She loved it when they were busy, and she could whirl between a dozen tables with a swish in her hips and something forever on her ‘to do’ list, when they opened early and didn’t stop moving til the sun was down.  But while the morning had whirled by in its normal hubbub of activity, the afternoon had seen all their customers up and disappear for that brand spankin’ new saloon opening up.  New places always hurt business a titch - but it never lasted long.  Cheap food and friendly service and Mama’s quality cookin’ in the kitchen always brought the bread and butter back.<br/><br/>So she dallied between her customers, trying to strike a balance between bothering folks when their mouths were full and being a friendly presence.  She had a sixth sense when eyes were on her - it was usually right before someone made a grab at her backside, or tried to tug her over into their lap.  There were a few faces she didn’t object to much to the treatment from - well, inwardly at least.  She always made a fuss about it - her older sister had giggled a few too many times when it happened, and now half the regulars thought of her as a pillow for their laps.  Mama had made it pretty clear this wasn’t ever going to be<em>that</em>kind of establishment.<br/><br/>So when she felt the eyes on her, she turned.  Handsome fellers made her smile come natural, and though she recognized him for a redskin, he had hair so long and pretty she felt a touch of envy.<em>Wish I could get mine to grow that long.</em>Not that it was physically impossible - but with the way she sweat through her clothes every shift, she’d had to settle for keeping it a few inches below her shoulders.<br/><br/>He was staring at her, too.  Not leering.  She got plenty of leering.  Particularly towards the end of her shift, when her blouse started to cling to every part of her that curved.  But he was just starin’ and smilin’ and lookin’ like he might be happy to do that all day.  Unconsciously, she smoothed her skirt, which flashed tan bared legs his way, and her smile spread wider.  It was nice, bein’ gaped at like that.  Flatterin’.<br/><br/>”Well you just gonna stand there or you gonna come in to get a bite?”  Mama hadn’t much raised her for subtlety, but if there was any sting in it, the brilliant, earnest smile melted it away.<br/><br/>“Ye serve redskins?”  Clyde, a regular, muttered it in disbelief.<br/><br/>“We serve white skin and yeller skin and black skins and brown skins,” retorted Dora.  “We even serve skins so dirty a girl can’t tell what color they was born with, Clyde.  Oughta try a bath once a month or so.”<br/><br/>Clyde wrinkled his nose, but kept quiet.<br/><br/>Dora waved the stranger in.  “Come on, smells even better in ‘ere.”