Mila Babinski is the most deadly assassin the underground has seen in years... all the mobsters fear her... she even fears herself. Mila lost everyone she ever cared for at a young age and the time has now finally come to get her revenge. But when...
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"Whiskey."
"Will that be all?" the plastic blonde leans over the bar and hums in my ear.
"What's your name love." I whisper twirling her hair in between my fingers.
"Trixie."
I briskly pull her hair which was now firmly clenched in my hand slamming her head into the table, "Let's keep it that way," I spit.
"Yes boss," she squealed underneath my hold.
Releasing my grip she runs off leaving me yearning for a drink.
Useless Bitch.
Suddenly, silence engulfs the usually boisterous club as vibrant lights of blues and purples fill the stage. I turn away from the bar and set my gaze upon the stage as a figure begins to emerge towards the pole.
She was wearing knee high boots that stopped just above her knee causing my eyes to wonder upwards to her lacy thong that left little to the imagination. She was mesmerising and by the looks of things I wasn't the only one who thought so by the way these bastards were now cheering for her, devouring her beauty. Her ash blonde hair grazed over her red slick bra bewitchingly causing me to trace her tanned skin further.
As if in a trance I become fixated on the eyes that now stared back. Icy sliver with speckles of blue ignited something inside of me, her alluring gaze stared into my soul as if reaching out to the darkness within. Almost searching for stray of light.
Holding our glare of admiration for a couple seconds too long, as if been caught, she snapped her head back round to the pole she now perfectly clung to.
So with that I enjoyed the show.
~~~
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