Waist Pocketbook Novels & Stories

She held it up to show it off. “Uh.” Shaw frowned, confused, and scratched his dark hair. “That’s actually supposed to be a basket.” The woman merely shrugged. “Whatever. Purses are just glorified baskets anyway, right?” She carried it toward the front desk. “This one is so cute; I have to have it.” “Um…” Shaw glanced at me as if unsure how to answer before he carefully said, “Okay. Sure.” The woman plunked the basket purse on the counter next to the cash register and then opened the small beaded coin purse she had strapped over her shoulder before pulling out a wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Zara's POV Despite the buzzing in my ears, I forced my hands steady and tried the third vault. It obeyed. The door sighed open and inside lay a journal swaddled in aged velvet, like a relic waiting to be unwrapped. “Of course, another journal,” I muttered, then slipped it into my arms. It was enormous. I opened my bag, but even the large one I’d brought barely swallowed the book. I jammed it in anyway, grateful the velvet cushioned its bulk.

With the form fitted waist and low neckline, it was definitely something she believed would impress Creighton. She pulled on a pair of pants the saleswoman had given her, not jeans but soft brushed cotton and very attractive. They were dark blue, almost suede in feel and as she zipped them up, she smiled. She liked them a lot, the cut hugged her tiny behind and long slender legs, making her feel very comfortable and very sexy. The pockets on the back had small pink and white flowers embroidered on them and were deep enough to hold her phone or ID.

he replied, lowering his voice. "Okay," I said. "Let me just close up the shop, and we can take a look." I locked the door, flipped the sign to "Closed," and turned back to him, my heart pounding with anticipation. He walked over to the counter, pulled a package from his bag, and opened it. Inside was a black leather jockstrap. It had a large pouch to accommodate his cock and balls, with the outside made of rough, polished leather and the inside lined with soft suede. The belt featured steel studs and a sturdy steel buckle that fastened in the back, while braided leather straps curved under to cradle what I could only imagine were perfect buttocks.

The sleeves are long and fitted, covering every bruise on my arms. The neckline is high, covering the fading fingerprints on my throat. It's armor disguised as beauty. "There's no pocket," I say suddenly, realizing. "I need a pocket." The seamstress frowns. "For what, Donna?" "My... my medication. For nausea. I need to keep it with me." She exchanges a glance with her assistant. "We can sew a small pocket into the inner lining. Give me ten minutes." She does it quickly, adding a hidden pocket in the folds of the skirt, accessible through a slit in the lace overlay.

She wondered if he might have a money belt under his shirt, but his slender form sure didn’t look like it. Dominic stood up and extracted an old brown leather wallet from his back pocket. No, not really a wallet, Leesa thought. It was a little too big to be called a wallet, and it had an inch-wide strap and a brass clasp that kept it closed, like a purse. Yet it was too small to be considered a purse. Whatever it was, it was clearly very old—the leather was dark and lined with age. Surprisingly, the corners showed no wear at all. And though she had just seen Dominic pull it from his pocket, it now looked too large to have fit in there.

The waistband rode low on the hips and was at an angle, with a thin chain sewn into the waistband so in a garment tight to the hips, like the dress, the panty waistline was disguised as a waist chain, not an undergarment. To anyone who caught a casual glance, of even somebody with a good look from a low angle, Rose looked like she was enjoying the fresh breeze on her privates. Only somebody who actually shined a light up her crotch could tell she was actually covered.

Someone had protected it. Dr. Ward’s expression sharpened, but her hands remained steady. “There is an inserted fabric pocket between the lining and support layer. Very thin. Hand-placed. It appears to have been stitched to prevent shifting.” “Could Olivia have done that?” Elaine asked before she seemed to realize she had spoken aloud. Dr. Ward did not answer immediately. “The pocket is carefully made. It could have been placed by anyone with strong sewing skills and access to the gown's interior.” Leah looked down at the pocket.

“We also know you run incredibly fast for someone wearing cheap boots.” Silas finally moved. He didn’t say a single word. He just reached gracefully into the deep pocket of his sleek black trench coat and tossed something heavy onto the center of my desk. My muddy, water-damaged backpack. “Take it,” Silas said coldly. I snatched the bag instantly. My hands trembled slightly despite my best efforts to look tough and unaffected. I yanked the rusted zipper open and dug through the contents. My textbooks were there. My cracked calculator. My pens. But the secret side pocket was completely empty.

Nasa wallet kaya? Bumitaw ang isang kamay niya sa manibela upang kapain ang pitaka sa bulsa ng suot na tailored pants. Nakakapanliit ang makapal na bungkos ng perang papel na nagsisiksikan sa loob ng black leather wallet. Kay raming pera ni Monsour, ngunit hindi naman nito nagagawang bilhin ang kaligayahan na ubod nang ilap...!