Part 1

Hello! Long time no see :)

Here's part 1 of a new story I've been working on. I already have the first ten or so parts written so I'll start posting every other day. As always, thank you for reading :D

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[b]Fine Dining

Part 1[/b]

Dennis paced beside a row of extravagantly adorned tables. His crisp chef jacket draped stiffly over his middle aged, masculine body. His calculating eyes darted around the room, scanning for any imperfection. They rested upon a young man standing completely still and staring forward in the center of the room. He wore a formal uniform with a bow tie and a slight smirk.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1cMIX-b5r8B--lWPpsf5yY5JHo8BgTF0u/view?usp=drive_link

Though dark bags puffed out from beneath the man's eyes, his posture and blank expression did not reveal fatigue in the slightest. Dennis turned his gaze to the far wall where rows of windows overlooked the city. The sun was just beginning to approach the horizon and long shadows danced along the buildings. It was a truly a stunning view from the twenty fifth floor, but Dennis had, long ago, overcome the enchantment. His gaze lingered for one final moment as he wistfully pondered his nightly exposure to the beautiful scene and how it rendered him blind to it. Nonetheless, he had a job to do.

Dennis inhaled sharply before stomping towards the young man. While there wasn't much for him to complain about, Dennis knew he had a reputation and an impossible standard to uphold. The confident smirk on the junior waiter's face would have to be swiftly dealt with as well.

Dennis furrowed his brow and twisted his face in anger as he spat down at the young man in his deep baritone, "I give you the fucking [i]PRIVILEGE[/i] of working in MY dining room and [i]this[/i] is what you give me?"

The young man's right eye twitched and any semblance of confidence drained from his face. Dennis felt a surge of power. He was in complete control. He was accustomed to using his tall, burly stature to his advantage and this situation would be no different.

Dennis shifted to the closest table. The glossy, dark mahogany wood and sterling silver utensils shone in the fading light. The intricate glassware, the designer napkins and all the accoutrements expected of a fine dining, Michelin Star restaurant were accounted for.

Dennis shouted to the young man, "Hey, give me your fucking eyes you fucking [i]worm[/i]!"

His head instantly snapped towards Dennis like a trained dog.

Dennis' rough, masculine hands floated across the table as he coldly stated, "This glass is smudged." He slapped the expensive wine glass to the floor where it shattered loudly as he screamed, "Unacceptable!"

He heard shuffling from the kitchen door as more of his staff came to see what the commotion was. He could feel their eyes staring and a reverent silence hanging over them. Dennis fought back a grin.

"This napkin is off center!" He howled as he scrunched up the designer napkin and whipped it towards the waiter who flinched when the silver holder bounced off his chest.

Another shuffling noise sounded as more kitchen and wait staff entered the dining room.

Dennis shouted, "Why are you just fucking standing there? Stop being useless and clean up the glass! It's your fault it's all over the floor."

The junior waiter shuffled towards Dennis with his eyes glued to his feet as he muttered pitifully, "Y-yes s-sir Mr. F-Foxworthy."

He quickly got onto his knees and began collecting glass with his gloved fingers. The task was made much more difficult as he was visibly shaking under Dennis' gaze. The other staff members watching served only to worsen his nerves.

Dennis chided, "I should have listened to my gut. I knew your [i]fuckwit[/i] brain couldn't handle the pressure of working for me. Is that what it is, [i]Fuckwit[/i]? Are you buckling under the pressure?"

The waiter's breaths were coming in quickly and he was clearly becoming emotional. His voice was soft and weak, "I- I don't- I don't know Mr. F-Foxworthy."

"I d-d-d-on't know Mr. F-F-F-Foxworthy." Dennis mocked.

The young man took a sharp breath and clenched his white-gloved fist tightly as blood began seeping from a fresh cut. He continued picking up glass with his remaining good hand.

Dennis growled, "Don't you dare bleed on MY fucking floor! Don't you fucking DARE! I'll be stuck with your loser DNA stained into my restaurant- haunting me forever."

Dennis turned to address the staff in a stern voice as the waiter sobbed quietly at his feet, bleeding, and picking up glass, "I don't care who you are. i don't care about your problems. You are NOTHING in this restaurant- [i]MY [/i]restaurant. If you can't handle the privilege I've given you, and you can't be bothered to put in some EFFORT for the greatest dining experience IN THE WORLD, then you are free to [i]fuck right off[/i]. Go back to the mom and pop family restaurant or that dime a dozen sports bar or that hole in the wall diner that you crawled out of!"

Apart from the sound of the waiter sobbing, complete silence gripped the dining room. Dennis scowled at the group but secretly felt amazing. There was no feeling in the world like total control. He could see it on their faces- they were terrified!

Dennis smoothed out his chef jacket as he regained his composure, "Now, get back to your duties. We open in exactly one hour."

At that, the staff quietly shuffled in different directions. Dennis knew he'd successfully reaffirmed his reputation. He'd gladly take any opportunity to instill fear in his subordinates. As he was the best chef with the best food at the best restaurant in the world, Dennis figured he'd earned the right to act any way he wanted.

He bent over his sobbing employee and spoke quietly, "Don't let me down again."

Without looking up, the waiter nodded and rallied what little confidence he could muster, "I won't sir, I promise."

Dennis basked in his power for a few seconds before speaking down in a stern, commanding voice, "Dismissed."

He watched the young man scurry towards the front of the restaurant with his tail between his legs. As Dennis was finally alone, he allowed himself a little smirk. He drew a contented breath and turned towards the kitchen. He stomped confidently across the floor.

It was going to be a good night!