Romans & histoires Black Waitress Clothes

He stated. With a final glance, Mark left to attend to someone calling his attention. I stood alone, taking in the room's opulence, when a waitress carrying a tray of drinks approached. Her eyes locked onto mine, I admired her elegant dress for a few seconds before looking away. Why is a waitress wearing Givenchy? She slowed her pace as she walked towards me and then, in a move that seemed almost calculated, she stumbled, spilling drinks all over my dress. The liquid soaked through the fabric, chilling me. Gasps erupted from nearby guests.

Kiana told her with an irritated tone. She frowned, “Fine.” She spits out with an uninterested tone and dresses the woman in the clothes she is wearing earlier. After she put her clothes on the woman, she immediately stood up and look at the clothes that she was holding. It was black dress pants, a white button-up shirt, and a black vest. Actually, these were the usual outfits of some waitress that she saw, the only difference is that this has a logo of a snake that was wrapping its body with a golden skull, it was obvious that this was a customized uniform that only personnel or an employee of this place can acquire.

Plus it only works on werewolves so if I am fighting a human nothing will happen. After the match I quickly grab the money I earned for the fight then move to the cleaning supplies closet. I grab my bag that I hide behind a box and empty it out. I quickly change into my bartender outfit and sigh when I look down my body. I hated the bartender outfit. I looked so - slutty. The outfit consists out of black converse , black jean shorts that stop just under my bum and a black crop top that showed most of my flat stomach. The crop top had the bars name on it in gold 'the ring'.

Some also had various designs painted on their skin and one bartender had his vest hanging open in such a way that his nipple rings would glow brightly. The VIP area was painted slick black with crystal like trim. Upstairs was a soft pink with black trim. It clicked suddenly that the waitresses in the main area had black shirts with silver writing. The upstairs was black with pink writing and VIP waitresses had black shirts with iridescent writing. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t noticed that before. Scanning the room again, he saw a very familiar face. Smiling to himself, he left his post for a moment to approach the woman with the rainbow hair.

Maybe the market that she is aiming for is those teenagers who get attracted to pastel colors and such. Anyway. The things that I want here are coffee and cake. With my black block heels, black skinny jeans, white top, and black blazer, I strode the way towards the counter and glanced at the top part of the wall where the menu is located. The staffs are also wearing pink polo shirts, I saw two boy waiters and a girl cashier. They were wearing white caps and a wide smile plastered on their faces as they greeted me. Wearing pink doesn't seem so hard for the boys, huh?

There's something hauntingly beautiful about her. Even though we’ve never spoken, we acknowledge each other with a slight nod. She has been working here for years now. The pub's theme tonight is wild west— cowgirl and cowboy attire-and I've embraced it fully. My outfit hugs my body in all the right places, sending a message I don't mind delivering. A black corset clings to my torso, the deep cut drawing attention to my neckline, while fishnet leggings criss cross my legs, accentuating the curve of my thighs.

To top everything off about her delectable body, the outfits she wears are outrageous. The nightclub has a strict dress code for employees-the perfect combination of sexy and elegant. Unless you work behind the bar as Sierra and her brother do. They rock the leather in tight, suggestive clothes that have men and women ogling them every minute of their shift. Today, Sierra is dressed in a tight, black, midriff bustier, black short-shorts that show off her legs, and thigh highs with stiletto heels. The damn shoes must be six inches high. Who the hell wears this shit in a rustic cabin in the middle of nowhere? Then there's all that wild hair. A man could get lost in it while fucking her.

We stepped inside, and my gaze quickly locked onto Katrina behind the bar. She looked polished in her work uniform, consisting of fitted denim shorts and a sleek black shirt emblazoned with "TwentyOne" in bold white letters across the front. I led the way, my brothers following closely as we navigated through the lively crowd and approached Katrina behind the bar. "Katrina," I said with a respectful bow, acknowledging her presence.

~End of flashback So there I was, serving alcoholic beverages to mostly perverts who undressed women faster with their eyes than they ever could with their hands. Getting up on shaky legs, I opened a locker and retrieved a water bottle. Gobbling down half of it, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and placed it back into the locker. My eyes flickered to the exit and I broke into a cold sweat. I wiped my sweaty palms on my short flared red plaid skirt waitresses were supposed to wear, paired with a fitted white dress shirt, repeatedly. I glanced down at the outfit and scrunched up my nose

The only place that accepted to hire me was a small bar in one of the city's lively neighborhoods. The bar was called "The Quiet Harbor," although the atmosphere inside was anything but quiet. The walls were adorned with old pictures and oil paintings from bygone days, while dim lights gave the place a warm and cozy feel. The scent of whiskey and tobacco filled the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and loud conversations from the patrons. I was forced to wear the traditional work uniform for waitresses at the bar: a tight white shirt that revealed my figure, a short black skirt, and short-heeled black shoes. My long black hair was tied in a high ponytail, and I wore light makeup that