Jordan Belfort Costume Novelas e Histórias

Jordan sat heavily on the couch, absentmindedly. JORDAN The awaited day came. The hall was filled and buzzing with guests. People kept trooping into the hall. I stood at the veranda upstairs, staring at the guests who came for my birthday party. Some were dancing, the others were either drinking or cheering the dancers. I was dressed in a luxurious black suit, paired with Italian Valentino Gravavani shoes. For someone whose birthday party is tonight, my face looked gloomy and sad. “Alpha, wouldn’t you be giving a speech?” Beta Theodore’s voice smacked me out of my thoughts.

Jordan tells the man that he needs an elegant tux for a dinner party, and soon, they're both walking to the back of the store. “Oui, Oui! I have just the one." I heard faintly before they got out of sight. When they returned almost 15 minutes later, Jordan was dressed in a gorgeous black tux that looked like it was designed specially for him. “Well?" He said, causing me to raise my eyes from admiring him to look at his face. A look at his face told me that he was expecting me to say something about his outfit. “Erm… it looks good on you.”

I was struck too. The only thing Elio wore from his waist up was a chain of beads which slanted vertically from his right shoulder and to the left side of his waist. A white faux fur neckpiece hung around his neck with another red and white beaded neckpiece. He looked so good and as he turned even I was thrown off because I couldn’t remember his abs being that scrumptious. If it were up to me, he would wear that every day, every single day. Around his waist was a black belt which held a faux leopard skin apron or loin-like material which sat on two thick brown cotton fabrics aligned together, tied at his waist. The fabrics left space so when he walked, his whole leg was in display. The man w

Jana murmured appreciatively, smoothing the blazer he wore down, brushing off imaginary wrinkles. He had requested her not to put him in anything clownlike (and that had earned him a swift kick to the shin, with her wildly stating that she never put him in anything that resembled a clown or otherwise), and she had put him in a simple black blazer and black pants, a white shirt underneath. His hair was swept up, and he looked clean, polished. It was simple enough of an outfit for him to handle throughout the interview. “Fighting, Gael sir. You’re on in five.”

Now I just needed a pitchfork and I could cause pleasant 'accidents' where ever I go. I turned to see Jordan with a wide smirk on his face. His face felt bloated like he was barely holding his belly laugh in. I felt insulted, I wanted to be thick-skinned but I didn't want to run into an Officer while I looked like a crime scene. I noticed he was wearing a pant and a button-down shirt now. He fished out a blazer at me while I was inspecting the disaster that I had been reduced to. I cringed at my own reflection.

"Definitely this one." By the time I was fully ready‚ hair cascading in soft waves‚ gold dress catching the light with every step — Thorne had changed too. He emerged from the men's section in a charcoal Tom Ford suit that fit him like it had been stitched directly onto his body. The jacket was unbuttoned‚ revealing a black shirt open at the collar‚ and his dark hair was pushed back in a way that made him look like he'd just stepped off the cover of something expensive. I swallowed hard.

“If it wasn’t okay, Jordan, I wouldn’t be sending you over there. I wouldn’t even let you consider it.” Jordan exhaled slowly and glanced back at himself, frowning. He tugged at his collar, then dropped his hands, irritation flickering across his face before giving way to something more vulnerable. “Should I change?” he asked. “I feel like I’m dressed for a job interview. Or court. Or… something where one wrong answer ruins everything.”

“Stand you up for shopping? Please. You’d never forgive me.” He laughed. “You’re damn right. Now come on. We’ve got work to do.” *** We hit the shops like kids in a candy store. Or at least he did. Jordan had way too much energy for this early in the day. “Try this one,” he said, pulling a sleek emerald dress from the rack and holding it against me. I shook my head instantly. “Too loud. People would stare.” “And that is the point, I want them to stay. It’s a gala not a market square. It’s about standing out not blending in.”

I said, “but let me know anyway, alright? Jordan nodded solemnly. "Of course. I'll update you if anything develops." "Thank you, Jordan. I truly appreciate your help," I said, offering a grateful smile. As Jordan turned to leave, the office door swung open. Elroy strode in, and the second I saw him all my thoughts fled my mind. He was dressed so impeccably, his charcoal suit perfectly tailored to show off his broad shoulders and thick, muscular thighs. Most importantly, there was a moon flower embroidered on his breast pocket, right above his heart.

Goldman said. “Oh,” George said. He looked at Goldman. His dark hair was combed back away from his face. He looked intimidating in the long gray trench coat that hung from his shoulders. He also wore a black dress shirt and black slacks. George looked down at himself. He had on a white dress shirt and black pants. The two top buttons were unbuttoned on his shirt to show a large gold cross around his neck. He had to look like a mature gangster. “So, how many stings have you been on?” George asked.