Black Waitress Clothes 소설 & 이야기

The only place that accepted to hire me was a small bar in one of the city's lively neighborhoods. The bar was called "The Quiet Harbor," although the atmosphere inside was anything but quiet. The walls were adorned with old pictures and oil paintings from bygone days, while dim lights gave the place a warm and cozy feel. The scent of whiskey and tobacco filled the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and loud conversations from the patrons. I was forced to wear the traditional work uniform for waitresses at the bar: a tight white shirt that revealed my figure, a short black skirt, and short-heeled black shoes. My long black hair was tied in a high ponytail, and I wore light makeup that

I hoped the dancers matched the facade. A cute waitress came by a few minutes later and took our drink orders. Her name was Camille and she had a thick French accent. Her outfit reminded me of something that waitresses in Vegas wear. Extremely short, tight fitting leather shorts and a tight, cropped half t-shirt that made her bell-shaped tits seem to explode from her chest. I could just make out the slight impressions of her nipples through the fabric. Her eyes sparkled and she gave me a lingering smile when she looked at me. I even noticed her glance at my chest briefly, which made me squirm. Oh, in case you were wondering, I'm bi-sexual.

fuck. I look at the waitress watching as she pushes her chest out more then our uniforms actually allow. We may be fucking dogs but we're not stupid our female employees have uniforms that are actually on the more casual side for a lux club like this. We chose the uniform keeping in mind that there are fucking suck fucks out there the girl are to wear black skinny jeans with a black or white short sleeve crop top shirt, but this waitress has a slit going down the front of her top. "Bring up a bottle of Whiskey and a bucket of ice" I tell her looking back over to the bar.

She sat him down and ask him to wait for some minutes and should not on the light till she gets back. Nana quickly remove the black dress she was wearing and wore the waitress's outfit Maaysa insisted that she buy yesterday and then gave her some clues which she is now liking. The outfit is white with black at the endings. White straight skirt that stopped a little above her knees, a fitted black shirt that she tucked inside and Cook's cap. She let her curls -she curled earlier- fall down her back with the cap on top of her head. Pleased with her look and the blood red lipstick she added.

and she gave a nod. After the manager had told her everything about the rules and regulations and the timings, she went to the staff room to change into her waitress dress. Her shift began as she presented the drinks and cocktails to the customers. That intoxicating primal need for others, to move and experience joy as one, separate and joined, that's what the nightclub was all about. It was like dancing on the Northern Lights; beneath the dry-ice smoke swirled an array of blues, acid greens, hot pinks and gold. The music played over the dance floor as if had fused with the bodies.

After several meetings, and several heated discussions, they had been able to reach the adored agreement that these two rules would not be broken no matter what. Maria De La Cruz, decided that the dress code for the party would be all in black, that is to say, elegant sexy black clothes and along with the invitation, a very sophisticated box with a black feather mask, for the men it was a mask, and for the women it was a mask. The employees that night would wear white masks and masks.

The VIP section meant big tips, but it also meant dealing with entitled men who thought they owned the world—and everyone in it. She grabbed a tray of drinks and weaved through the crowd, her black dress clinging to her damp skin. The dress was standard for Inferno’s waitresses—tight enough to invite lingering stares but just modest enough to avoid outright scandal. She hated it. But pride wouldn’t put food on the table or pay for Draco’s medicine.

She combed through her thick black afro hair and let it stay out growing everywhere but down. “Banging, tips galore,” I said as I undid my jacket. I had my work clothes on under my normal clothes and slowly got undressed. 20 minutes to opening, so I had time for a crafty cigarette before the show started. “Fag?” She asked, reading my mind once I was fully undressed. I nodded and put my jacket back on over my lingerie. I was glad I wore my favourite tonight. Aqua matching set, which also matched my eyes and looked amazing against my shoulder length brown hair, if I didn’t say so myself. Me and Latisha made it out to the staff smoking area, she hadn’t even lit her cigarette before she started.

It all swells around me, nearly lifting me up off of the polished marble floor. I've come to interview for the position of cocktail waitress and now that I'm here...I'm pretty darn positive that my cheap, coral-colored dress is not going to cut it. Fashion-wise, I'm not glamorous. I don't have perfect makeup and hair like the girls I'm watching serve drinks to patrons playing blackjack and roulette. I've done my best with the meager amount of cash I was able to store away without my father finding out over the last few years.