The Kings Inn was dead and...

The Kings Inn was dead and grim on a weekday afternoon. There were more bouncers at the front door than customers in the club. After a couple minutes at the bar, a somewhat older (at least 45) dancer latched on me and wouldn't let me go. She seemed like a pack of cigarettes. She somehow talked me into a private dance, which I think was $25 for her and a previously undisclosed $5 for the club, but she spent most of the time trying to upsell me the the champagne room where she promised that I would leave satisfied. I passed and left quickly feeling quite unsatisfied.