The Mafia Queen's Little Prince

CHAPTER 14: Destruction, thy name is Luna

Luna's POV

12:15 am, Thursday

This is why you don't mess with the fucking queen.

After dealing with that shit head, I finally entered the club.

The bouncers of course, bowed down to my presence as they saw me walked in.

Outside I looked tough, but deep inside. I. was. full. on. panicking.

I didn't know where to go.

This was a bad Idea.

But despite my thoughts of doubting my decision, I went straight to one of those standing tables and watched the people around me party.

Okay, time to make friends.

I thought to myself as I looked around as if to find my soon to be friend.

How do you even make friends?

As I went on to observe the place, I saw a man.

He was about four tables away from me.

Lust evident in his eyes as he eyed me up and down like I were some piece of meat.

I was disgusted.

I watched him continue the action.

I felt like I was being undressed by his malevolent eyes.

It sickened me.

This old bastard is gonna die.

I wanted to kill the old bitch, but I decided not to since I was feeling generous today. So I did the only logical thing to do.

Let's give him a show.

I seductively looked at the fat man and made eye contact with him.

I gave him a little kiss and wave.

Go on honey, take the bait.

He, of course smirked and returned the wave.

Bitch, this guy is too full of himself to the extent that he's delusional and thinks he's some hot stud.

I continued my plan and I made sure I maintained his sinful gaze on my body as I slowly touched my small waist.

It was evident that he was arroused by my sudden movement.

My hand then went down to my thigh.

I looked at the bald man. He was biting his lips as I watched a very small erection rised in his secluded area.

Horny old geezer.

As I went farther down my thigh, I touched the hem of the slit of my skirt.

After that, I pushed the slit aside and watched his eyes grew at the sight of my small gold colored gun that was strapped around my thigh.

What 'ya think about that, fucker?

Lo and behold, the man started to panic and took his stuff off the table then ran.

I cackled as he scrammed straight to the exit.

Serves him right.

After getting cat called and being asked 'if I came here often' by desperate men and women, a bartender finally approached me and asked what I wanted.

Yes, I am very much aware that bartenders don't normally do this. So......fuck you cause I don't give a damn.

He gave me a slight nod as to show that he knew who I was and also to give respect.