Ladies Pocketbook Novels & Stories

“On top of being a little late, you now talk to yourself, my dear?” “It’s just that, it’s just that I...” “Forget about it, my dear, go change those wrinkled clothes.” Laila looks at herself and sees nothing wrong, but she does as her aunt asks. In her aunt’s room, she changes her clothes, but as she takes them off, she feels something in the pocket of her skirt. She takes it out to find a state-of-the-art cellphone. “Oh my! Whose could this be?” she covers her mouth with her hand and continues speaking. “Could it be the handsome redhead’s? How did it end up in my pocket?”

Lilith almost gasped out loud. “I can keep work and play separate,” Enzo said. “Can you?” With that, he drew his hand from his pocket to show Lilith her lost thong from last night. "Was I the only woman in the world who regretted having sex with a billionaire? Lilith wonder, Because it was starting to feel like it. She snatched her thong from its precarious position dangling between his fingers and, in lieu of pockets — seriously, why didn’t designers think women wanted pockets? — stuffed it between the pages of her notebook.

Lilly pushes me in front of her saying, “I need you to make Lisha half a dozen outfits. Pants tops and two jackets.” Silvia nods and grabs her measuring tape; Lilly leans close to her and whispers, “We will also need six separate pockets in each outfit big enough to conceal an eight-inch dagger.” She smiles, nodding her head, “What color?” Lilly looks at me then says, “Black.” “How soon do you need them.” Lilly raises her eyebrows at Silvia, “Any chance we can have the first outfit by this afternoon?” Silvia's eyes light up as she says, “It will cost you, Lilly.”

It was easier to hide a twenty-dollar bill in your shoe. "Oh, right. I forgot about the whole kidnapping thing," Liddy says. She taps her chin. "Well, we will just have to buy you a purse first. A woman isn't dressed without one." The rest of the morning is a blur of bright lights and expensive fabric. Liddy drags me through three different boutiques, talking about seasonal trends and color palettes that mean absolutely nothing to me. The driver follows us like a silent ghost, carrying a growing mountain of shopping bags.

It hurt, and yet at the same time, it warmed my heart and filled the hollow space where it once existed. “But I've never lived my life,” I mumbled in tears. Demetrius pats my back softly, comforting me with his presence. I stared at the box. It was a lady's cloth. It was designed with jade green lace trimming and gold thread around the borders. A simple, plain fabric. I could feel it in my hands and see every little detail. There was even a small flower embroidered on one of the seams. There was a lady's shoe inside. The lid wasn't sealed shut, so there were no flowers sewn into it.

She tilts her head, her manicured fingers brushing the leather briefly before she nods once. “Bag it.” The attendants exchange quick smiles of relief. Another rushes forward, holding a sleek black crocodile-skin purse. “This one, Miss Vallerand, is from our private collection. Two hundred and fifty thousand. A timeless piece—classic, rare, and very discreet. It was designed for women of stature.” Bianca lifts a brow, finally turning her eyes on the girl. “Are you saying the others aren’t?” The attendant pales, fumbling. “N-not at all, Madam, I only meant—”

A genuine smile flashes on her face once again as she usher me to follow her to the next shelf just behind the sandals. “Here, Ma’am.” I thanks her and look around the shelf until I found a small white flap bag with a gold-tone strap. That automatically caught my attention so I pointed it immediately, so the lady grab it out from the shelf herself. “It’s made up of lambskin and these are gold-tone metal on its strap, Ma’am.”

I was going to do something about it. Grand gGateway was my next target. I darted into the Marc Jacobs store and snatched about ten purses. I then moved like a shadow into the Louis VuttonVuitton store and filled the rest of my pockets with their smallest handbags and purses. After that I quickly got out of there with my hoard of treasures. I got back home and emptied out all my pockets. There were purses worth five thousand, some were eight thousand. One was fifteen thousand.

“What in the world?” She turned on the overhead light and opened her bag wide, pulling out the larger objects, like her wallet and makeup bag. Nearly everything was out, and the journal wasn’t there. It wasn’t a huge book, only about the size of her palm, but it was thick and heavy, so there was no way she was missing it.

He wondered if Miss Bennet had that capacity as she seemed rather too inclined to think well of everyone whereas his aunt only appeared to do so. Unfortunately, his aunt's sister, Miss Prudence Graves, had a personality rather more closely matched that of her brother-in-law than Lady Matlock. She had her own oft told aphorisms of being meant to go to her "grave a Graves" as well as being "Prudence by name, prudent by nature," and her absolute favorite trotted out on every possible occasion, that "a lady in possession of a good fortune is not in want of a husband." All of which were brought out either before or during dinner.