Content Notes: SFW but past abuse and implied continuing abuse.
"Don't you look cute in that uniform?"
Much to Darryl's shame, the mere sound of Leighton's voice is almost enough to terrify her into dropping her tray. But she clutches it tight, forcing a smile on her face as she turns around to face him as he sits in his table. He smiles right back at her, as pleasant and warm as sunshine.
"Sir," she says in a greeting. Her voice is smooth and even, the cracks of her nerves hidden underneath a calm surface. "What can I get for you?"
"You could chat with me for a start." Leighton's smile takes a darker edge as he gestures to the empty chair standing by his table. "Please, sit down with me. Consider it customer service."
Darryl looks around the cafe; the other waiters are busy, Sam included, and the owner is nowhere in sight. She could cause a scene, scream all the way from the bottom of her lungs. She could let Leighton know that school is over, that he no longer has any power over her.
She could, she should. But old instincts are stronger than the will to be free; she slinks over to the table, setting her tray down on it as she sits down.
"Good girl." Leighton's hand creeps up on her knee underneath the table, grasping it through the skirt. "I see you are still mine. That pleases me." He grips her tight, sliding his thumb along the inside of her thigh, on top of the fabric. For now.
His hand will go underneath her skirt soon if she doesn't move. Darryl swallows, and stays obediently put.