Pocketbook Styles Novels & Stories

A man's arm was casually draped around her, his hand resting on her stomach. Only the hand was visible, but I knew it instantly. Neil. 'Bold move,' I thought. He didn't even bother to take off his wedding ring. Maybe he was so caught up in the moment, he forgot. That ring wasn't just any ring either—I'd had it custom-made for him. I set up a fake account and left a comment under her post: [Are you Mrs. Schmidt? I heard you've been married five years with no kids. Congrats on finally getting your wish!]

I wore a simple black off-shoulder and ragged white pants, I paired it with a black topsider for women. I just let my hair hang down to my ass. I put a little orange marmalade lip tint and Johnson powder. I didn't bring a bag with me, everything is inside my pocket, my wallet fits in my pocket. My cellphone is in my ass pocket too, I'll just hold it when we take a taxi so it won't be crushed.

Two down, one to go… The handsome passenger is tricky. Kate focuses all her world-building skills on him. He’s typing on his smartphone, which she imagines is a blue Galaxy A10; released just four months ago. He looks like he’s texting his girlfriend. Earlier, he took out his wallet, which was a Velcro trifold in denim color. It had one clear ID holder outside, on the right fold… “I know!” Kate suddenly cries out, snapping her eyes open and scaring Ms. Perfect.

He nods and leans to the side, pulling something out of the large hidden pocket he had down his leg. “I assume you know how to use a book and inkhold?” Tearing out the front pages he hands me a small hardcover book, bound with leather and rope, as well as what reminded me of a pen but I had to assume it was a modified bird feather, similar to how people used quills, just without the ink in a pot or the fluffy touch. Funnily enough, I don’t hesitate to take it and start writing notes about some of the things I have heard about today.

I bite my tongue, holding back more questions. His face is too raw. Too exposed. And for the first time, I realize—Jack bleeds too. So I change the subject. “Hey, um... do you have a pack library or something?” I ask, trying to sound casual. He blinks. “Yeah. Why?” “Just bored,” I shrug. “Need something to read while you’re off being Alpha-y.” “You want books?” I nod, hiding my real motive.

I said. "And the outside pocket," he said. "For the survey notebook." "Yes," I said. He looked at the sketch. He touched the outside pocket drawing. "Flat so it doesn't bulk," he said. "Yes," I said. "So I can tell what page I'm on without taking it out," he said. I looked at him. "Can you?" I said. "I can feel the page through the cover," he said. "If the pocket is flat enough." He paused. "The current coat has a round bottom pocket. The notebook gets lost in it."

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a folded piece of paper, and hands it to me. "I’ll wire the funds to your account. Please don’t get cheap stuff, only top of the line." I unfold the paper. The first item on the list makes perfect sense. It starts going downhill after that. 1. Books (Fiction, Sci-Fi, Fantasy. Absolutely nothing regarding architecture). 2. More clothes. Leather pants and jacket. Calvin Klein underwear. A few mesh shirts. Anything hot you come across.. My eyebrows shoot toward my hairline when I get to the next item.

Gideon nodded and he walks around the store and me just following him. He inspected all the bags and even the clothes. I also browse their product with no interest but one wallet caught my attention it is a bright blue folded wallet. It is really simple no designs or whatever. As I look inside the glass case I suddenly recoiled when I saw the price.

He approached cautiously, his heart pounding with anticipation. The object was a sphere, about the size of his head, made of a smooth, dark material that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. It pulsed with a faint inner glow, matching the rhythm of the symbols. As he drew closer, he could feel a strange energy emanating from it, a powerful force that seemed to draw him in.

he said. I smiled and nod, then pick up the menu, I look over it. What on earth are these, are these what rich people eat, there isn't any rice and bean. What should I order? "Mr. James, are you ready to order," a waiter asks. Eric but down the man and order, " bring me a zillion-dollar lobster frittata and a glass of red wine." The waiter nod and turn to me "and you miss?" "I'll have the same."