Pocketbook Crossbody Novels & Stories

There was nowhere left to hide. He had to go. Now. Hobbling to his feet, his body a symphony of fresh agony, he began to search the body. No wallet. No phone. No ID. The clothes were plain, mundane. A phantom. But phantoms sometimes carried messages. In the front pocket of the man's tactical pants, his fingers brushed against something small and rectangular. He pulled it out. It was a flash drive. Smooth metal, plain except for one word etched in a sharp, modern font:

He then stored the mokeskin pouch in an inside pocket of his robes. ------------- a/n: sorry for dropping this set new I was choked up with many things please my followers please bear with me.

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.

“Good. That works.” “You think?” “I know.” She closed the laptop. “Ditch the tote though.” I looked at the bag on my shoulder. “This is what I use.” “For groceries. Not lunch.” From the sideboard drawer, she drew out a slim black crossbody, as if she’d been expecting this moment. “This.” “When did you get this?” “Last week. Had a feeling.” She handed it to me. “You’re welcome.” I switched bags. And put my phone, wallet, and keys. I checked twice, then a third time, even though nothing had changed.

Embarrassed, they apologized and hurried off with their friends. Of course, even without that outburst, Celeste had already noticed. It wasn't just that one suitcase—every bag and case they used for Calvin's things was made of genuine leather, with price tags in the tens of thousands dollars. Altogether, Calvin's luggage alone must have cost hundreds of thousands dollars. And the crossbody purse Lilian carried was a limited edition worth over a million dollars.

We point our weapons toward an empty field to check our sights. "Holy shit," Celina says. "You have grenades in here too." She lifts one from a metal ammo box. Celina is the one who's knocking on the door to get Fernandez's attention after we reach his location. The rest of us will bust through the back door. She's carrying a PKO-45 pocket pistol, which she's hiding in the waistband at her back. It's tiny and only holds five rounds. It, however, packs a solid punch with .45 ammo. Moon gave it to me last Christmas to carry in my purse. With Celina's skin-tight clothes, she needed something small because I refused to let her go in unarmed.

I glance at the first pocket to see everything everywhere. Nope, not it. No, that’s her makeup bag. Is this it? Nope, that’s her notes. “What pocket is it in?” I ask, already done looking at the first one. “I think it’s in the second one. Or was that my hair products pocket? Try checking it just in case.” I unzip it as it unleashes a pack full of hair accessories, combs, and an iron curl. “Amber, I don’t think it’s in this one. It’s too full.”

These ones also have pockets hidden all over the dress. There are pockets in the bodice, some in the belt, others are just in the folds of the dress. I can only estimate that with any one of these dresses I would be able to carry 50 knives on me or more. My eyes immediately fall on a purple silk dress that is slightly lower cut in the front while still concealing many hiding places for me. As soon as the seamstress sees my eyes land on the purple dress, she walks over to it and holds it out for me to try it on. I have never worn something this nice so I am not quite sure how to proceed at putting it on.

I waved both of my hands, hoping she would know that I am grateful. "Oh right, I forgot..." She said before she reached in to the front pocket of her pink apron. The woman pulled out a pink mini notebook with a snap button and a small pen tucked in the gap of the strap. "Here." She said as she offered me the notebook. Accepting the book with both of my hands, I looked down at it with confusion. "I thought it might come in handy. Besides it's small enough to fit in to a wide pocket so you can carry it anywhere." The woman said.

(And do they have trash cans here? Sadie steps out of the room wearing an oversized pink tee with the statement “cute but psycho” glitched across her chest and grey jogging pants. She runs straight to the drawer while putting her mask in her back pocket. She's sits down with her legs crossed in front of it, and runs her fingers through its contents. I decide to bring my ask down to my chin, feeling more of the fresh Earthy breeze pass through my nose sit on the bed without asking. Somehow, Sadie did not notice and instead chose specific notebooks, pens, papers, and small boxes then drop them inside another backpack, which has a doodle design. She stands up and walks over to the bookshelf to