Whiskey did a quick doublecheck of the drinks he had before delivering them to the table. "Ok, one Black Manehatten." He set the drink in front of a buxom unicorn mare wearing a halter top dress that looked like it was about to fall off. "And a Dry Verhoof." He slid the glass over to another unicorn, this one dressed a tad more modestly, but the dress still exposed a considerable amount of cleavage.

"Hm, are you new here?" The first mare asked, turning in a fashion that put her nipples dangerously close to popping free.

"Yeah. Haven't seen a cute little thing like you here before." The other added, giving him an approving smile.

Whiskey blushed at the attention. "W-well, I just started earlier this week." He said.

"Ooh, nice.' She smile widened as she leaned in a bit, showing off a little more on her breasts. "This place could do with a little...fresh meat."

"Uh...o-ok." He replied, not a hundred percent sure how to take that, along with trying not to stare at how her nipples were almost popping out too. Whiskey started to walk way when one of the mares stopped him. 'oh, before we forget..."

He started ask what the needed...and froze at the feeling of his pants unzipping. His face turned neon red when he looked down to see the first mare slide a hundred bit bill into the opening. "Tipping's allowed here, don't worry." She purred.

"M-ma'am, I don't think that's how tipping..." He squeaked when the other mare slipped another bill in, her hand lingering slightly in his pants. He had to resist the urge to make any sound in response to her fingertips running over him through his underwear.

"Hey, you ok, Shot?" The clubs night manager, Cherrybop asked, seeing how red the new waiter's face was, along with how he was holding his tray. "Didn't get anything spilled on you, did you?"

"No, nothing like...like that...uh..." Whiskey paused to regain his bearings. "Um...I got tipped about three hundred and fifty bits."

"Nice. They tend to have cash to toss around like that, but three-fifty's pretty average for a couple tables if you make an impression."

"More like how they tipped..." After a couple minutes of nervous hesitation and a tied up tongue, Whiskey managed to explain what happened.

"Oh." She replied, shoulders shaking from amusement. "So, the mare who stuck her hand in.." She gave him a coy grin. "She cop a feel worth that hundred?"

"I..da...C-Cherrybop!" He protested, face even redder.

"Well?"

"I...gah...." He groaned. "She wasn't the only one...think one table tried to give me a handjob..."

Cherrybop devolved into a fit of giggles. "Oh relax, newbie. The regulars like doing when they take a liking to a particular waiter."

Whiskey stared at her. "That....that's normal??"

"The boss lady thinks its funny. Anyway, it's not that bad. Hell, I lost count of the mares and stallions that had a hand in my pants when I was a waiter. Getting big tips like that also means they'll be willing to come back, especially when they pick a favorite."

"A favorite?"

"Yeah. Sometimes they pick a waiter to tip that way regularly. You'll get used it; most don't do more then feel you up."

Whiskey just stared at her again.

"Boss? Yo-you wanted to see me?" Whiskey asked as he stepped into Quiver's office.

The sea green pegasus mare was looking at what appeared to security footage, along with a beer on hand. "There you are. Don't worry, squirt, you're not in trouble."

Whiskey sighed at the newest nickname she have him. He knew he wasn't the poster child for earth ponies...since he was about a foot shorter than normal, and a dark brown mane and coat that earned him Whiskey Shot as his name. "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing like that. " She downed the rest of her bottle and turned his way. "Whiskey, how you feel about working Fridays?"

"Friday?" He wasn't fully sure how to respond. He'd heard that Friday was a fairly big thing for the club, but no one ever really talked about it for some reason.

"Yeah, do a good job and waiters like you easily make twice what you normally get from tips. Especially if you're a Favorite."

"A favorite...?" He couldn't help blushing at what'd happened the other day, as well the day after, then yesterday. "But...the others said they had to wait a year almost before you considered them for working on Friday."

"Let's just say I'm willing to make an exception this time."

"She's putting you on Fridays? That's great!" Cherrybop squeed as she gave him a congratulatory glomp. "That means we work all week together!"

"Yeah...uh...a-are you wearing a bra?" Whiskey asked under his breath, trying to ignore the breasts squishing into his face. He wouldn't deny that the mare was hot. A dark red and blue streaked mane that she kept in a braid with cola brown eyes, a coat the same shade as pink lemonade that showed off a curvy body, and an almost permanent cheery personality.

Though, for some reason she was also...kinda physical with him a lot, even though he'd only been working there a few days. As in surprise hugs, nuzzles, even a marshmallowing or two. Not that he really minded, but it puzzled him. "What's so special about Friday, anyways?"

"Well...you'll find out once you come in." She smirked.

For a brief moment, he wondered why her expression made him worry a little.

"Don't worry; here, if you feel a lil overwhelmed, just let me know and I can help you out. Ok?"

"O-ok." He turned to go take orders...and squeaked when he felt a hand grab hold of his ass cheek and squeeze it. Soon as it let go, he spun around, only to see Cherri already walking away.

None of the other waiters or employees were nearby. "The heck was that about!?" He asked, not really getting an answer from anyone there.

Author's Note

Ok, the choice is yours, what do you wanna see happen to Whiskey Shot in the next chapter?