Black Waitress Clothes Novels & Stories

I hoped the dancers matched the facade. A cute waitress came by a few minutes later and took our drink orders. Her name was Camille and she had a thick French accent. Her outfit reminded me of something that waitresses in Vegas wear. Extremely short, tight fitting leather shorts and a tight, cropped half t-shirt that made her bell-shaped tits seem to explode from her chest. I could just make out the slight impressions of her nipples through the fabric. Her eyes sparkled and she gave me a lingering smile when she looked at me. I even noticed her glance at my chest briefly, which made me squirm. Oh, in case you were wondering, I'm bi-sexual.

It all swells around me, nearly lifting me up off of the polished marble floor. I've come to interview for the position of cocktail waitress and now that I'm here...I'm pretty darn positive that my cheap, coral-colored dress is not going to cut it. Fashion-wise, I'm not glamorous. I don't have perfect makeup and hair like the girls I'm watching serve drinks to patrons playing blackjack and roulette. I've done my best with the meager amount of cash I was able to store away without my father finding out over the last few years.

One of the guys with ginger hair has his eyes fixed on my cleavage, and fuck it, I hate that this bar has a required, fixed outfit for all the waiters. The outfit consists of a black, fitted corset-style top with thin straps, paired with a short black skirt that barely brushes the middle of my thighs, which I really hate. “Can I get any of you anything?” I clench my teeth hard, if one of them makes an off-hand comment, I’m going to pummel someone’s face tonight. “Maybe a night with you.” He leans forward, and his guys cheer him up. I catch the glimmer of a Rolex watch on his wrists and I sigh. Exactly. Entitled pricks thinking they can have anything and anyone whenever they want.

“Thank my Lord. Just tell me when you need me. I'm better now, so for any extra shift I'm available. He looks at me with narrowed eyes, but doesn't say anything, just waves his hand and turns his back on me. I begin to walk to the employee area down a hallway that leads to a dressing room. I go into the bathroom and change quickly. I put on the uniform that I start to hate so much. There were days when we wore dresses well above the knees revealing more than what I am really interested in showing. Today is one of those days. The changing table is one”man, therefore, behind me must be the other waitress, Charlene. In case I was on time, otherwise I have plenty of time to put my eye pencil and

She had brown hair, and she really did a thing with her shiny leather uniform, which had round openings at the back and sides and was purposely too tight. She had on a serious look as always, clutching onto the clipboard, like her life depends on it as she spoke to one of the annoying men in the group. "How about a night with you?" He whistled, as the other men, and even the women, laughed at his cheap flirt. It was gross to Thane, and he noticed how much discomfort it caused the waitress as she tucked her hair behind her ear. She bit her lower lip. "I'm a waitress, sir. I don't offer those services." She replied calmly, avoiding the man's gaze.

fuck. I look at the waitress watching as she pushes her chest out more then our uniforms actually allow. We may be fucking dogs but we're not stupid our female employees have uniforms that are actually on the more casual side for a lux club like this. We chose the uniform keeping in mind that there are fucking suck fucks out there the girl are to wear black skinny jeans with a black or white short sleeve crop top shirt, but this waitress has a slit going down the front of her top. "Bring up a bottle of Whiskey and a bucket of ice" I tell her looking back over to the bar.

She sat him down and ask him to wait for some minutes and should not on the light till she gets back. Nana quickly remove the black dress she was wearing and wore the waitress's outfit Maaysa insisted that she buy yesterday and then gave her some clues which she is now liking. The outfit is white with black at the endings. White straight skirt that stopped a little above her knees, a fitted black shirt that she tucked inside and Cook's cap. She let her curls -she curled earlier- fall down her back with the cap on top of her head. Pleased with her look and the blood red lipstick she added.

and she gave a nod. After the manager had told her everything about the rules and regulations and the timings, she went to the staff room to change into her waitress dress. Her shift began as she presented the drinks and cocktails to the customers. That intoxicating primal need for others, to move and experience joy as one, separate and joined, that's what the nightclub was all about. It was like dancing on the Northern Lights; beneath the dry-ice smoke swirled an array of blues, acid greens, hot pinks and gold. The music played over the dance floor as if had fused with the bodies.

After several meetings, and several heated discussions, they had been able to reach the adored agreement that these two rules would not be broken no matter what. Maria De La Cruz, decided that the dress code for the party would be all in black, that is to say, elegant sexy black clothes and along with the invitation, a very sophisticated box with a black feather mask, for the men it was a mask, and for the women it was a mask. The employees that night would wear white masks and masks.

The VIP section meant big tips, but it also meant dealing with entitled men who thought they owned the world—and everyone in it. She grabbed a tray of drinks and weaved through the crowd, her black dress clinging to her damp skin. The dress was standard for Inferno’s waitresses—tight enough to invite lingering stares but just modest enough to avoid outright scandal. She hated it. But pride wouldn’t put food on the table or pay for Draco’s medicine.