Straight Jacket Novels & Stories

“You are soaked. You must be freezing.” Florence hesitated, her hands trembling slightly from the cold and from everything that was inside her head. She stared down at her damp clothes, her mind racing with thoughts of her own vulnerability. The stranger, sensing her hesitation, gently placed the jacket around her shoulders. The warmth of the fabric was a comforting contrast to the cold she had been feeling. The oversized jacket enveloped her, providing a sense of security and protection.

“No. I choose, you try. And you must model everything for me. Oui?” His French accent is exquisite. “Ummm. Okay. Yes. Oui.” He hands me a structured blazer, deep navy, almost black, with unusual shoulders and a cinched waist. “Try with the jeans you are wearing.” I try it on. It fits perfectly. The sleeves are a hair too long, but he pins them and adjusts. There’s something so different about this jacket but I have no clue what. I keep staring. “You like?” “I love.” “Try with these now.”

I added so she would have an idea, and in the end, we ended up in the jacket section. "Here are all the oversized jackets we have, the ones you said Bella wears, Miss." I smiled because that's exactly what I was looking for. I checked each design and color. In the end, I got two oversized jackets. The one I requested to wear now is a plain tortilla brown jacket with a Christian Dior label in the middle. I also grabbed a plain white t-shirt to wear underneath.

Josh tells me. “It’s a shawl, not a jacket,” I correct him, making him roll my eyes at me. “Wear anything that keeps you warm,” he tells me, making me giggle. “How did you even see that as a jacket? It’s too thin to be a jacket,” I argue, still laughing a little. I wrap my black shawl around me as we both make our way to his car.

The fabric drapes gracefully, ensuring ease of movement and a professional appearance. Underneath the jacket, a crisp white blouse with a modest neckline adds a classic contrast, completing the ensemble with timeless sophistication. “How did you know that I love such attire?” “Stella helped me.” I’m taken aback by how well he knows my style. When I express my amazement, he sheepishly admits he had help from Stella. Her touch is evident in the perfect blend of sophistication and charm.

Great to see after hours of staring at swatches, nearly making me cross-eyed. I am standing between Ajax and Aries as we welcome the pack, in a lemon floor-length fishtail dress with wide, ruched straps the bust has a deep dip nearly to my naval and beads adorn the top and scatter elegantly as they get to my waist, the light bounces off them as I walk. Ajax and Aries look as handsome as ever in navy-fitted suits with lemon shirts and navy ties and lemon pocket squares topped off with brown formal shoes. These hunks are what wet dreams are made of and they're all mine.

"Just for your information, you don't need a jacket. It burns here in summer." Matsyaa looked up at him and then down on her, "Oh, this! It's not a jacket. It's blouson." "A what?" Prem knitted his eyebrows and she explained, "A blouson. Um, a shrug. Like an overthrow? And, don't worry, it's made up of high-end cotton. It's very comfortable."

She’d caught him staring at her and lifted a brow at him and when they’d met later that night, they’d fucked hard and fast against his castle walls. “Aren’t you coming?” Skye asked, glaring at him. Her husband looked unfairly handsome in his formal wear of a dark double breasted jacket of a fine velvet with gold etchings and trimmings. He was a large man, even much taller than she with broad shoulders that made the jacket look better than it had on other men who attempted the same design. He’d worn a white linen shirt underneath with a well tied dove gray cravat. His dark breeches clung to his shapely muscular thighs and his boots shone from a good polishing. She loved how meticulous he was

She told me she wears it to funerals, but whatever…it works for the occasion – a charcoal gray pinstripe suit. The jacket is a single-breasted blazer with a notch lapel, and the matching slacks are straight leg. I pair the suit with a light, cream-colored blouse featuring a soft, tied bow, creating a modest cowl neckline. I knock on the door, and the chairman of the council, Elder Elias, opens it to let me in. My eyebrows nearly touch my hairline as my eyes widen when I walk in. I’m not sure what I expected, but the warm, gothic tone wasn’t quite it.