The Fox in the Henhouse?

Last night, I did my first trial shift at a pub/restaurant where I am being considered for an assistant manager position. I really enjoyed my evening there. Wow! Every waitress there is gorgeous! I was like a kid in a sweet shop. To top it off, I was left in the hands of the outgoing assistant manager, to show me the ropes (I wouldn't mind being tied up by her!). Not only was she as good looking as the rest of the women there, she was wearing a low cut top, displaying her ample cleavage. She repeatedly bent over in front of me, picking various items up and, however unintentionally, giving me a healthy glimpse of her lovely lady lumps. I could even see that she was wearing a lacey black bra. Here's a question for you ladies out there...do you know what you are doing to us men, when you wear low cut tops with ample cleavage? Is it just thoughtlessness on your part, when you bend over in front of us, or is it deliberate? During the course of the evening, I found out that she has a boyfriend, but they are going through a bad patch. She is due to be moving away to take a new job, at a restaurant in Oxford. The boyfriend isn't happy about it, but seems to not be handling things in a way that pleases our managerial beauty. Oh well...too bad she is moving out of the local geographical area.
Now, as if that bevy of beauties wasn't enough, today, I was working at a restaurant located at the clubhouse of a golf club. When I arrived, the first waitress I saw was a pretty faced gal, from someplace foreign. Well, I am from someplace foreign, but I mean she was from someplace where English is not her native language. I am normally quite turned on by women with lovely foreign accents, however, on closer examination, it was soon apparent that she was quite visibly pregnant! Well, that was a turn off. She looked so far gone, I thought she might drop a sprog between the main course and the dessert. The only pregnant woman I have eyes for is Davina McCall, who isn't as far gone, yet, and who dresses in a way that maintains her attractiveness. Somehow, the bulging waistcoat on this particular woman wasn't doing it for me.
Just when I resigned myself to having nothing better looking in my field of view than this preggo immigrant, another waitress turned up to work the late shift who was beautiful. She had light brown hair and suddenly, the other one was forgotten. A short time later, yet another beauty turned up. This one tall, with very dark hair. She also had a tanned complexion and a look about her that whispered, "continental European." Some time later, the light brown haired one came up to me and asked me my name. Oh my, she noticed I am alive! I told her, "Joseph." She responded by telling me what I guess was her name, although I couldn't quite make it out. I asked her to repeat it, but she I still couldn't make it out. She then asked me if there was a box of ketchup around. I said, "I don't know, it's my first day here." For some reason, she seemed to take this as a, "no." I directed her to ask the chefs. All subsequent attempts to communicate with her seemed to accomplish nothing more than reducing her to giggles and she went off to pursue her duties. Alright, she's no rocket scientist, but she is lovely to look at, which a charming smile. I am almost looking forward to going to work, tomorrow.