Nando's Naughty | NEON LIT

Nando's on a Saturday night was basically a mating ground. Tables full of lads showing off their Black Card loyalty, girls sipping bottomless drinks and pretending not to notice. And weaving between them all was Keely.

She'd been my waitress three visits running. Either fate or she'd noticed me asking for her section. Probably both.

Keely was the kind of thick that Nando's uniform tried desperately to downplay—red polo stretched across heavy tits, black trousers fighting a losing battle against hips that belonged on a renaissance painting. Mixed race, freckles across her nose, hair in goddess locs that swung when she walked.

"Extra hot again?" she asked, pen poised over her pad like she didn't already know.

"You know it."

"Brave man." She wrote without looking. "Anything else I can get you?"

The way she said it. The pause. The look.

"What's good back there?"

She leaned down, pretending to adjust the napkin holder. Her cleavage was right there.

"Stockroom's very good. If you know how to find it."

"Maybe you could show me?"

"Maybe I could. Ten minutes. Follow the corridor past the toilets, door at the end." She straightened up, all professional again. "I'll put your order in."

Longest ten minutes of my life.

The stockroom was exactly as unsexy as you'd imagine—shelves of paper products, industrial-size bottles of sauce, and the persistent hum of a refrigeration unit. But Keely was waiting, leaning against a stack of boxes marked PERI-PERI HOT, and suddenly the setting didn't matter.

"Took your time," she said.

"Didn't want to look suspicious."

"Smart." She pushed off from the boxes, walked toward me with a sway that was deliberately hypnotic. "Been watching you for weeks. Knew you'd be worth it."

"Worth what?"

"This."

She kissed me hard, backing me against the door. Her body pressed against mine, all soft curves and urgency. I grabbed her arse—couldn't help it—and she made a sound of approval against my mouth.

"Fuck yes. Grab it properly."

I did, squeezing, pulling her closer. She was already working at my jeans, fingers quick and practiced.

"We've got maybe fifteen minutes before someone notices I'm gone," she said between kisses. "Make them count."

"Challenge accepted."

I spun us, pressed her against the shelves. Her polo came off easy, revealing a red bra that matched the uniform. I unhooked it one-handed—proud of that—and watched her tits spill free.

"Like what you see?"

"Love it."

I buried my face between them, motorboating shamelessly while she laughed and gasped. Her nipples were dark, responsive, hardening under my tongue.

"Lower," she demanded. "Been wet since you walked in."

I dropped to my knees, pulled down her work trousers. Her knickers were soaked through—red again, matching set—and I pulled them aside to taste her.

"Oh fuck—"

She tasted incredible. I ate her like she was the main course, my hands full of her thick thighs, her ass pressing back against the shelving.

"Right there—shit—don't stop—"

She came fast—she wasn't lying about being wet since I walked in—her hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the scream. Before she'd recovered, she was pulling me up.

"Inside. Now. Tell me you've got a condom."

"Back pocket."

"Thank fuck."

Thirty seconds later I was inside her, her back against the shelves, one leg hooked over my hip. The shelving rattled with every thrust, bottles of sauce threatening to fall.

"Harder—yes—like that—"

She was tight, wet, and making little sounds that drove me crazy. I gripped her arse, lifted her so both legs could wrap around me, fucked her standing while she bit my shoulder to stay quiet.

"So fucking deep—Jesus—"

A door opened somewhere in the corridor. We froze, me still buried inside her, both of us barely breathing.

Footsteps. Pause. Then walking away.

"Shit," she whispered, grinning. "That was close."

"Too close?"

"Nah." She rolled her hips, reminding me exactly where I was. "Makes it hotter. Keep going."

I did, harder now, chasing the finish. She was close again—I could feel it in the way she clenched around me.

"Gonna—fuck—pull my hair—"

I grabbed a handful of locs, tugged her head back, watched her eyes roll.

"Cumming—shit—cumming—"

She shattered around me, and the feeling pushed me over. I came hard, groaning into her neck, her legs locked around me keeping me deep.

We stayed there for a moment, both panting. Then reality intruded.

"Shit, your food's probably ready," she laughed.

"Don't care. Worth it."

She cleaned up quickly, efficiently, back in uniform in under two minutes. At the door, she paused.

"Same time next week? I'm always on Saturdays."

"I'll be in your section."

"You better be." She kissed me once more—quick, promising. "Now wait two minutes before you leave. Don't want to be obvious."

I walked back to my table to find my chicken waiting, extra hot sauce on the side.

Tucked under the plate: a napkin with a number.

For private dining. K x

I ate that chicken with a smile that wouldn't quit. Five stars. Would recommend.