Mia Wallace Pulp Fiction Costume Novels & Stories

“You’re coming with me tonight.” Paula’s voice was casual, but there was no mistaking the command behind it. She stood in the mirror of her walk-in closet, pulling sheer black stockings up her thighs. Her black silk dress hugged her like a second skin, slit high enough to tease. Her heels clicked on the marble floor like a countdown. Silas stood in the doorway, shirt half-buttoned, lips parted. “To the mafia gala?” he asked, as if he weren’t still sore from the way she’d ridden him into the mattress that morning.

Alex P. O. V When she began to pick the glasses while looking down. I could not see her face but I felt something familiar as if I had seen her before. Her face was covered in a mask and she was wearing what most of the waitresses were wearing . The waitress dress looked like those costumes from Playboy magazine.Red colour closet dress with high net stockings, five inch blood red colour hell and a bunny ears on her head. The auburn hair of hers was descending down in some loose curls.

Shaw had let go of his hand just before we entered the room. Four other people were standing around a mahogany table in the middle of the room. Two strangers, Eric, and Alice. Alice was wearing a blue evening dress that matched her pale eyes and as before she looked very beautiful. Her graceful aura made everything she was doing look elegant, even when she was just standing. I suddenly realized this room was filled with people like Alice and Mr. Shaw. They are like the models on the cover of High End magazine.

Maurice had taken Alessa to a guest room and helped Alessa slip into a tight green dress that made her white skin shine and clashed with her red hair. The dress stopped well above her knee and left nothing to the imagination. She looked like she was cosplaying a dirty Peter Pan. He had also done a soft pink makeup look and was doing the third touch-up on it since Alessa could not stop crying. “You’ll be okay dear,” Maurice kept saying. Though she could tell he was uncomfortable preparing the prey.

He was waiting. For what? A few seconds later, the door opened, and he entered only to come out just three seconds later with an unconscious woman in his arms. Soon, Grace came out; instead of following them, she stood in the middle and looked as if she was in the middle of having a panic attack. Another interesting fact about Miss Hale. Of course, the brightest were the most depressed ones. Grace Hale was the living example of that. What astonished me most about her was her clothing. Tonight she was yellow. Every shade of them this world had to offer.

Were the maids also trained like the guards? Mesmerized, I found myself getting lost in her eyes. Miles wasn't kidding when he mentioned his peculiar taste in selecting his staff. Just like the guards, these maids seemed handpicked. Instead of the usual assortment of maids with varying body sizes, they looked more like models. All were dressed in black fitted dresses that stopped below their knees, black flats, and brunette hair slicked back into a bun. They almost resembled quadruplets, with the same facial structure, slim yet curvy bodies, and tall stature. I couldn't help but think they would fare better in a modeling career than working for Miles.

And then the same woman stood beside the Matron in an old picture. "I wonder how the Matron got her fatness from, probably a gift for being an assistant mother Mary. Perhaps?" It was more like a remark to elicit reassurance than a question. She had more pictures glued to the wooden doors of the wardrobe and thought I would hurt to take a little glance at her friend's choice of clothing. She opened it and found three dimensional comic characters stapled to the inner walls. The holy garment is placed in a rather dumped manner at the lower section of the wardrobe next to the drawer. These characters were skillfully drawn and as a matter of fact they had unique hair style and rugged dressings. G

After today, all over the world, people would know that Nancy was Noah’s wife. Angrily, Paul opened the wardrobe in his room and ran his fingers over his various suits. Finally, he chose one that was light blue and put it on, along with a matching bowtie. Then he looked in the mirror and congratulated himself for how dignified he looked. “Dressed like this,” he muttered, “I am sure to steal Noah’s thunder.” Michelle came in with a cup of coffee, and when she saw Paul all dressed up and ready to go, she asked him where he was going.

The two maids went to the walk in closet and looked for the clothes Russell meant. Russell stood up, following the two maids behind. Inside his trouser pocket, there was already the rope he had prepared to tie the two maids. "What color are the clothes?" One of the maids turned around and asked to make sure. "Black color. It has a picture of a wolf on the back. Help, I can't find it." Russell is still acting.

She even smiled faintly as she browsed, fingers running along the soft textures. On the far wall, her eyes caught a woolen coat in a gentle taupe color. It was thick, knee-length, and double-breasted with a high collar. Classic and clean, but also incredibly warm. She reached for it instinctively. Her fingertips had barely brushed the sleeve when a shriek cut through the air. “Who let you touch my daughter’s clothes?!” Macy spun around, startled. Dread pooled in her stomach as she realized who it was. Mrs. Richards.