Black Waitress Clothes Novels & Stories

The number 8 was on her back with the word Rosa printed on top of it. Ben and his wife was kind enough to allow her, Clara and a few waitresses to wear the uniform and decide on how long or short they want their pants to be but of course, the more skin you show, the more tips you get. Not to mention a sore butt at the end of the shift with these drunkards trying to grope them and even get slapped once or twice.

I’ve been at this damn club every night this past week, and I’m still no closer to getting Loyalty to talk to me. She’s got a lot of people on her payroll since tonight is Saturday and she is not even here, but I don’t recognize any of her staff present. The staff is easy to distinguish since they all wear crisp white short-sleeve button-down shirts, black bow ties, and black shorts. I see Charlene by the bar, so I turn back into the smorgasbord of bodies and grab a young and ditzy-looking waitress as she goes by.

She gives me strict orders to wear my hair back but to make sure that the length is still visible so that they do not question her choice as a waitress. Quickly, I rush into the storage room while she keeps guard. Flinging my own dress to the ground I quickly pull on the one that she gave me. It is a little baggy on me but it is not falling off so it will have to work. It is crimson with black lace along the bodice and bottom hem of the dress. Simply cut, if it were to fit properly then it would most likely look quite beautiful on me. As it is, it still looks okay but I feel odd having my clothes not fitted properly. It makes it harder for me to move around the way that I should.

We ordered T-bone steaks and black forest gateau for lunch before having a nap to prepare ourselves for a busy night. Hours later, the sun set, and we put on our uniforms. Each one consisted of a denim miniskirt that was almost as tiny as its leather belt and a maximizer bra that made my double Ds look like Double Fs. The only thing keeping me from falling out was a white shirt that tied beneath my breasts and exposed my belly. “You have got to be kidding,” I growled. “It’s the same as wearing hot pants and a bra top,” Larissa slipped on a pair of knee-high boots and preened. “Or didn’t they have clothes like that in the seventies?”

I asked if they needed anything else before quickly leaving. Thanks to my uniform, I was used to this kind of behavior from men. It only took me a week to learn how to fight the wandering hands. When my boss handed me the short red dress, white apron, and black high heels, I almost thought he was joking—that is, until I saw that the other waitresses were wearing the same thing. But I accepted without complain, just happy for the work. O Pom Pom's, O place what Laila there was recommended for what

Since they weren't the patient type, waiting could provoke them. Tonight's dress code was a waitress’ outfit. I was clad in a black waitress uniform that had a corset. A white apron was tied to my waist, and a black choker was fixed on my neck. Below the mini gown, a short flare that looked like a skirt. It was attached below the corset. Some tiny white lace designs were wired around it to give it a goth appearance, except that it was in a sexy way. My hair was fanned above my shoulder, and a black ribbon was used to hold it in place. My thighs were partially covered in see-through net pop-socks, and a black high heel was worn to compliment the dress.

As Zack approached the counter, a middle-aged waitress named Lara recognized him immediately from previous late-night visits. She stood confidently behind the counter, he shoulder-length, wavy dirty blond hair was styled with soft volume, framing her face. Her expression was friendly and inviting, with a gentle smile and relaxed blue eyes. She is wearing a classic vintage diner uniform: a soft pink dress with short sleeves, white trim along the collar and edges and a neatly tied white apron at her waist. In her right hand she had a glass coffee pot, presumably filled with filter coffee. “Rough night studying again?” she asked politely. Zack went to sit by the counter and Lara poured him a cu

We immediately got the attention of other eating here. Even the staff and crew of this restaurant looked at us. A woman of no stature approached Jayro and me. I look at the uniform, she is wearing, the slack's black and the shirt is red. It was pretty close to his body. Her hair was tied up, with only a few strands touching her face. Her skin was smooth, her lips pinkish and her cheeks flushed. Thick eyelashes and well-drawn eyebrows are enticing.

Glancing down at my robe, I noticed the patches at the cuffs and hem, the wear and tear from my time spent in mountain solitude. "This is what I wear for my spiritual practices," I said, undisturbed by her mockery. Betty laughed, sharp and mocking. "Aria, surely you haven't given up on love just to live as a hermit?" Laughter erupted from the relatives as they caught sight of me. "Seriously, who dresses like that anymore? You look like you're begging in the streets."

I just couldn't help myself. "We need to go to work. We are late already" Barb scolded. She was wearing the usual uniform, which was the white shirt and black pants or skimpy skirt. No one was allowed to wear an overly long or baggy skirt or clothes in total. You try that, you lose your job. "I-I know, I'm just not feeling myself" I whined and stretched a little, making groans.