The shift had been brutal. Fourteen hours of taking orders, serving wings, and enduring the constant groping from Hank and whatever customer got a little too handsy with the "friendly" waitress. Caroline's feet ached in the four-inch heels, her calves screamed with every step, and her pussy was still sore from the owner's impromptu fuck over the register counter. But she'd made it. The clock had finally hit closing time, and she was one shift closer to her goal.

She was wiping down the counter, her body exhausted, her mind already thinking about the hot shower that awaited her back at her cramped apartment, when she heard the kitchen doors swing open behind her.