Mix an A.M.P. with a use car lot: booty shake well, serve.

I walked in after grabbing a bite nearby, thinking, "Just a Guinness and I'm out." Well, I was wrong. Firstly, I step in and my idiot employee says, loudly, "Hey! I brought my knife!" because...that's useful information, I guess. He gets tossed and I talk my way to the bar.

After sitting down I order my Guinness and pay the expected upcharge of $7.50. A fine looking blonde with tig-ol-bitties walks up and asks me if I want a Malibu shot. I buy one for her and I and hand her $10. Then she starts rubbing my shoulders, "ooh baby, you need a massage." I wasn't game, I just wanted a beer to round out lunch, so I declined. "Let's go to the back, I'll make sure you're relaxed." Preeeetty sure she didn't mean aromatherapy. At this point, my well-endowed bartender came back with a second beer and told me, "you should go with her, she gives the best massages." Again, I decline and thank them both for the drinks.

After chilling with my beer for a bit, I noticed, all around the squared-donut bar were couples. Seriously, alot of couples, which probably explained the voracity of the strippers (cant sell a hot lunch to a full fellow). A black chick steps up in front of me; lighter skinned with major amounts of ink. She threw her high-heel up on the counter and started twerking on me. I'm not into black chicks, but she had a serious booty, so I was happy. After the song, she puts her hand on my chest and says, "$40, private room. You wanna play papi?" I tell her, "no, I gotta get back to work." To which she retorts "I wanna work, wanna work that dick." As she grabs a handful. At this point I really do need to get going, and frankly, she was too much woman for me - I'll admit it, I was intimidated.