Mia Wallace Pulp Fiction Costume Novels & Stories

It wasn’t worth it. “Have you thought it through it? Answer me!” Wallace bellowed ferociously at Xynthia. “I won’t accompany those men for a drink, but I can pay you back the one million dollars.” Xynthia lowered her head. In the end, she had to give in. At a place like this, what could a mere young lady like her do? Plus, looking at the video Wallace provided just now, it didn’t include the part where the Country J men had slapped her.

**Nora** The tape measure tightened around my waist like a noose. I stood on the small platform in the private fitting room, arms lifted, while the seamstress pinned silk that cost more than my monthly gallery salary. Two weeks. That was all I had left before I became Mrs. Sterling Marlowe on paper. The numbness that had settled in my chest since the contract signing refused to lift. Every pinprick of the needle felt distant, like it was happening to someone else.

But right now I couldn’t control the ticking need to yank her off his arm. ***** DELILAH AMOUR A group of scantily dressed playboy waitresses opened the door for us and we stepped in. The walls of the hall were a dark shade of red and the marble floors were a mosaic of vulgar renaissance painting. With them came a man dressed in a long purple robe, the sleeves of which were gathered at the wrists and full at the shoulders. When he walked the robe flared open, from the waist down. One could see that beneath his robe he had on some sort of tights which covered his legs and thighs but left his sex exposed.

Angry red welts blistered my wrists, neck and torso where the silver ropes had continuously seared against my exposed flesh since last night. My wild eyes stared back at me from a haggard, exhausted face. I was utterly helpless, at the mercy of true monsters. How would I ever get back to Nina like this? Despair threatened to crush what little defiance I had left. Then, a familiar clicking of heels echoed into the room, and my head jerked up of its own accord. Mila crossed over to me, completely unfazed by my body. She was dressed in a long, emerald green silk gown that rustled when she moved; a far cry from the simple clothes she wore back in the human realm.

“I think you should go back to your room.” She cut me off. “This house is so dark compared to Rose Hall, or whatever the Marino mansion is called. One of the girls I was with before the auction said the ceiling trim was decorated with real gold. Can you believe that? I told her the color of the wallpaper matched her hair, which made her cry. Paige was a really strange girl.” “Who?” I gasped, my blood suddenly running cold. Was this the redhead she’d mentioned before? “Paige,” she said nonchalantly.

"It might seem a little creepy." Claude looked around the room and couldn't help but agree. It looked like Halloween had thrown a party in there. There were black curtains covering the windows, cobwebs in the corners, and a skull sitting on a shelf. But despite all of that, there was something oddly charming about it. "It's lovely," Claude said, smiling. Nuella grinned and then walked over to her bed. She pushed it away from the wall, revealing a large section of black wallpaper covered in skulls. "I thought about what you said about witches," Nuella said as she began to rip the wallpaper off the wall. "And I realized that I had something that might interest you."

Shaw released my hand just before entering this room. Four other people stood around a mahogany table in the middle of the room. Two strangers, Eric, and Alice. Alice wore a matching blue evening gown that complemented her pale, beautiful eyes, and, as before, she looked stunning. Her graceful aura made everything she did seem elegant, even when just standing. Suddenly, I realized this room was filled with people like Alice and Mr. Shaw—like magazine cover models for the high-end lifestyle.

A shocked gasp made him turn around, to find Alice and Millicent walking towards him, and the sight of them made him laugh out loud before he realized what he was doing. Millie had chosen a layered yellow dress that made her look like something between a princess and a ballerina, with a sparkly tiara on her head, glitter in her hair and cowboy boots on her feet. With that choice of clothes, he very much doubted that Alice would have had any power of choice when Thea and Millie wondered what she would wear. Maybe that's why she was wearing a long dress with several transparent and shiny cloths tied around her waist. There was pink makeup on her face and a toy necklace that looked like it was

Her pulse quickened. Inside, the room looked untouched. Until she opened the wardrobe. Her clothes were gone. Not folded. Not moved. Gone. In their place hung silk slips that barely qualified as dresses. Sheer fabric. Slits up to the thigh. Necklines that plunged recklessly. Colors loud and provocative crimson, electric blue, gold. Costumes. Caricatures. Each hanger felt like a taunt. You’re not a student anymore. You’re not a daughter. You’re not a person.

I knew exactly what those words meant when he whispered them to me Seventy-two hours ago. The dress I was wearing tonight was elegant, black, the kind that cost more than most people made in a year, and it fit me perfectly, like it had been made for a body I hadn't fully grown into yet. My hair was styled neatly, every strand accounted for. My makeup was flawless, precise in a way that felt less like beauty and more like armor. I looked exactly like who Adrian wanted me to be — the wife of a dangerous mafia boss, rich, poised, untouchable. I picked up the mask from the vanity, a handheld one, black with a matte finish, gold lining the edges around the eyes, a small cluster of black feathers