"What would you like to drink?" the waitress—who would easily make two of her co-worker—asked in a dulcet contralto. Jason couldn't help noticing how the mandarin-collared uniform top skimmed her impressive bosom and round belly—almost as if she'd gotten it tailored.

If she did, more power to her—she certainly works it!

Noticing Jason staring, the Eurasian Valkyrie winked. "Ned more time?" she asked, a dimple appearing in one full cheek.

"Ummm...what do you recommend?"

"Well, we've got sodas, a few kinds of juice, and of course tea." Was it his imagination, or did her eyes linger on his bulging midriff for a moment longer than they had to? "We've also got Kirin and Tsingtao on tap; people seem to prefer the Kirin."

"All right, I'll have a Coke and a pitcher of Kirin."

"Gotcha. If you have any questions, give me a holler. My name's Linnea."

Jason made his way over to the buffet and stacked two plates with various dishes, absently wondering if the sweet-and-sour chicken was as good here as at that place in his hometown. It turned out to exceed his expectations—enough so that he ended up going back for more.

The better part of an hour later, Jason leaned back in his booth, rubbing the paunch which now strained tautly against his shirt, and stifled a burp. If he ate any more, he'd be uncomfortably stuffed. Even so, he considered seeing just how much he could handle.

That was when Linnea wandered by, wearing a hooded sweatshirt over her uniform. Her eyes took in the four empty plates in front of Jason; and this time, he was certain that she was looking at his belly.

"Wow. Hungry boy." The dimple again. "Hey, I'm off work now, so the manager can't hassle me..."