This happened about a year ago when I was going through a phase. I decided to assume the shape of a pretty nineteen-year-old girl working at a restaurant. You may ask me why I chose such a life. I'll tell you, I don't know. It seemed like it would be fun.

Anyway, I'm dressed in the standard uniform for the restaurant, a red top with large brass buttons down the front with a white collar over a white blouse, a red pleated skirt, and white rubber-soled shoes. It was a nice uniform, but not very sexy. It was designed to be worn by waitresses from seventeen to seventy.

I was serving a table that consisted of a few people, an older woman, well maybe middle-aged is a better description, and a few young men.

"Sweetie," the woman called out, "I'll call her Karen from now on. Anyway, she says. "Sweetie, it's my son's birthday. Can you do us a little favor and sit on his lap to make the day extra special?"

"You want me to do what?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Sit on his lap. Just for a second. It'll make his day."

"No, I will not!"

The boy was about my age, well the age I appeared to be, closing in on twenty. He was surrounded by his friends who looked embarrassed.

Karen continued, "You are paid to serve us, right? What's the harm in sitting on his lap for a minute...just long enough for us to sing Happy Birthday."

"Ma'am, I'm paid to serve drinks and snacks, not to sit on people's laps. If you want that, you are in the wrong type of establishment."

"What's the problem? He's a good boy. He's not going to hurt you. He thinks you're pretty."