The smell of cigars invade your nostrils. In the corner was a live band blasting music. Beyond the main bar illuminated by mirrors, the surrounding edges were private booths. It was especially crowded that night, many young beautiful women smoked long cigarettes, speaking to young mafiosos for a chance to escape the clutches of the depression, get free drinks, or if they're lucky; a rich suitor. You approach the bar. A bartender finishes pouring someone's martini, wipes his hands on his apron and approaches you.

"What can I get for ya?"

You decide to have a drink or:

| Go to the strip club | Drug Den | 

The door creaks as SpaceCowboy enters the bar with a cigarette lit and a horse saddle in hand. Finding a empty seat he places the saddle on the nearest chair and takes a long drag from his cigarette and begins to stretch.

Quickly he is approached by a lovely lady, as she gets closer he tips his hat to show his respect and clears his throat before asking...

"Could I please get a shot of whiskey darlin?"

One of the few women in the building with actual clothing on, the waitress approaches a table where a cowboy has planted himself next to a finely-tooled saddle.

"Of course, Sir! What's your pleasure? We've got many brands here. American Ace? Sunny Valley? Old Melody?"

Her eyes flick over the saddle, and then briefly towards the door.

"Is there a...erm...horse out there? Does it need watering?"

Pulling up to one of the branches of Dirty D's in his red Cadillac V-16 Sedan, Joey hoped out and entered the nicely populated bar. It was a long flight from Vegas to Detroit and he figured he would stop for a drink at one of the famous joints in town. Looking for an open table near the corner, he sat down and placed his fedora on the seat next to him as he unbuttoned his tailored suit.

Picking up the menu he eyed the drink choices as he glanced around for a waiter or anyone he might recognize among all these faces.

Another scantily clad cocktail waitress notices the finely dressed gentleman who's just recently sat down, alone, at a table. She has become quite adept at sizing up the clientele...the custom suit and fedora scream money, but she's cool as a cucumber as she saunters over and flashes a kittenish smile.

"Good evening. May I take your order? Wait...let me guess," she leans down and runs a finger down his fine silk tie.

"A man of taste. Albeit a bit conservative. Hmmm...an Old Fashioned? " she asks, and awaits his reply.

Looking over the menu he see's a cocktail waitress approaching his table. Setting down the menu he watches her approach and speak to him. She was good. Good training at least. He watched as she played her finger down his tie before raising an eyebrow in her direction and giving her a smirk. Maybe more than a little training.

"You're good. Though it sucks to hear I am not the only conservative man of taste to have come here. Such a disappointment."

Leaning back, the waitress realizes her mistake. Scrambling to maintain any bare shreds of a tip she might have had, she regroups quickly and stands a little straighter.

"My apologies, Sir. I meant no offense with either observation. We do get all types here...but that's not to say you're run-of-the-mill, by any means. I simply have a knack for these things. 

"For example. I don't know how I know, but I'm quite certain you smoke Lucky Strikes. Shall I fetch you a fresh pack with your drink order?"  She offers a polite smile, hoping she's back in the game.

He was walking in the business district of Detroit; I hear music coming from just down the block. As I approach the smell of cigars, alcohol and the sound of music. the trifecta he was looking for awaits. As he opens the door he notices fine women just as he notices fine liquor.

He continues to adventure his way to the bar. He eventually sits on a stools and light up his cigar.

“Pardon me darling do you have Wild Turkey 81 Bourbon Whiskey? If so an Ole Fashioned would be a delight”

Having carefully washed her hands after returning from the alley and, curiously, watering a horse, the first waitress turns to the gentleman at the bar and smiles as he places an order for an Old Fashioned. She rather liked making them, and it wasn't something you got to do often. 

"Wild Turkey 81, we certainly do, Sir," she replies as she places a cocktail glass on the bar, drops in a sugar cube, and adds several drops of bitters and a splash of water to dissolve it. She then pulls out a pairing knife and deftly cuts a long curlique of orange peel, never losing eye contact with the new customer.

"I don't believe I've seen you here before. Are you new in town?"

Mesmerize by the way she moved, He watches her as she completes his ole Fashioned.

“Sorry about that I don’t normally stare but you are absolute a goddess at making those drinks. I am originally from Detroit and been travelling since the crash of 2008”

He sips his drinks and thinks to himself this could really be a place for me.

“ Excuse me Miss do you know anywhere I can find some work around here?”

Kate sauntered into the bar with her thumbs tucked into her gunbelt. The bar was pulsing with live music and the heat of the occupants and she smiled quietly to herself before slipping onto a barstool. Her jeans slid against the leather and Kate  leaned back, winking at one of the scantily clad waitresses who walked by- causing the server to laugh.

She listens to the man next to her talk about "2008" and wonder how drunk everyone was in here. God, she could barely imagine the 30s ending. Although who knows, maybe by the time she was finished tonight she'd have consumed enough to think she was a time traveler, too.

After she watched Mercedes_Kompressor expertly make a drink, Kate raised an eyebrow, admiring her form. Twisting on the stool, she leaned forward with her elbows on the bar, waiting to place her order.

The bartender leans forward a bit, carefully examining the gentleman's pupils. A smile creeps across her face as she begins to speak.

"I've been told my drinks are pretty decent, but I do believe that's high praise if they've got you thinking you're in another era altogether!" she pats him on the hand and turns to the newcomer. Doing a double take, she glances back at the table where the first customer still sat, his cowboy hat resting next to the saddle he'd brought in. Not many cattlemen passed through Detroit, yet two were here in the bar and didn't seem to know each other. What were the odds? She was tempted to ask, but good bartenders knew better. Let the clientele set the conversational tone. It was damn hard not to stare, though...this lady was a knockout and she drew every eye in the house.

"What's your pleasure, Ma'am? A Whiskey, perhaps?"

 Kate smirked as she removed her hat and dropped it on the bar, shaking her short hair free.

"Good guess. Usually, you'd be right. Tonight I'm feeling a bit more... adventurous. Make me something fun, heavy on the tequila? Know any drinks like that, Miss...?"

Kate trailed off, asking for the bartender's name. 

The bartender smiled. "Mercedes. My mother was an odd one," she adds as she pulls a tall glass down from the overhead rack.

"But she knew what she was doing when she sent me to bartending school."

At that, she fills the glass with cracked ice and adds white tequila and lime juice. Then she grabs a bottle of creme de cassis and tips it up, swirling the nozzle around the inside of the glass again and again. As the blackberry begins to bleed into the bottom portion of the drink, she adds soda water to the top and gently rests a lime wheel on the edge of the glass. Leaning down to watch the colorful effect, she smiles satisfactorily and places the glass in front of the attractive blonde.

"Couple business types came through a few weeks back, headed to New York. Said they were from out West...Arizona, I believe. They claim this drink here is all the rage. It's called a Tequila Sunrise. See what you think...I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name...?"

Kate rolled the woman's name around in her mouth. "Mercedes... I like it. And don't be so hard on your mother. I agree with her on the name and the bartending school thing."

She watched, intrigued and deferential, as Mercedes_Kompressor expertly mixed the drink. Trying it, Kate breaks out into a smile and goes back down for more.

"This is damn good. I've been out west myself, but I must have been going to the wrong places... and my name's Kate. Kate Logan. I'm, uh, in the business. Downtown Detroit."

She winks.

"I've heard your name before, assuming there aren't multiple Mercedes running around the city. I had no idea the name was attached to a beautiful woman like yourself, but it's just my lucky day, isn't it?"

She raises the glass in a small toast and, smirking, samples it again.

"So what's your story, Mercedes? Nice to see a major player like yourself getting her hands dirty in a business like this. Keeping in touch with the people of the city?"

Mercedes throws her head back and laughs. "You give me too much credit! I'm still getting my feet wet in the business, so to speak. I've got a long way to go and it's an expensive route, to say the least. Gotta have money to make money, and all that. This bar here...well, it's what I know how to do and it helps feed that slouching mass of muscle that follows me everywhere. And when you're in a place like this, you hear things. Most of it's horseshit, excuse my language, but sometimes it's not. No one ever pays attention to a quiet bartender when they start flapping their gums after a drink or three," she smiles and nods to a passing waitress. 

"How about you, Miss Kate? What bring you to Detroit? Business or pleasure?" she asks with a wink.

Kate nods as Mercedes_Kompressor told her story. Seemed like a good plan, and it'd be a shame for a bartender with her talents to go to waste.

"Just trying to make my way in the world, ya know? Pulling my way up from the end of the earth in Texas. As for business or pleasure... why not both? Life is short, so I figure I might as well earn as much cash as I can and enjoy myself before the end."

She finishes her drink, twisting her torso around on her stool and waving her hand slightly to encompass the bar.

"These people know the score. Any one of them could be dead tomorrow. So tonight, they live it up. Speaking of, I'll have another drink, if you don't mind. Same thing- or feel free to surprise me."

"So tell me, Mercedes, what kind of business and pleasure opportunities does this bar have to offer me?"

She leaned forward on the bar again, looking up at Mercedes. 

The night was getting its fame, lights, city life thriving. I step out of my car and slowly approach the bar, screams, my mind spins. Smoke rises as I light a ciggartte a quick inhale and I was fine. Walking into the bar, a calming feeling the whiskey would be smacking my liver soon.

A lady approaches, I raise my hand

"The biggest glass you have filled with whiskey please"

Mercedes mixes another sunrise, not wanting to upset Miss Kate's stomach with a liquor riot that could quite possibly ruin her next couple of days. She rests the drink in front of her new friend and smiles mischievously. "Oh we've got it all right here, under one roof. My partner saw to that. She's quite the kick in the pants," 

Mercedes leans a little closer. 

"If you're a watcher, there are some beautiful women in the next room. If you're interested in participating, there are rooms for that, too. If you 'partake' in certain chemicals, there's a place for that as well, although the risks are higher and I wouldn't suggest any visits to that area unless you've got a buddy. There's even a high-stakes game room that we simply don't advertise. The players are some of the cities finest and they want to keep the game under wraps. Basically it's one of those things where, if you have to ask how much, you can't afford it. I'm a shit player and I know damn well I can't afford it," Mercedes laughs and absently starts polishing the bar as she continues to speak.

"There is one thing I'd like to see, though. Men. Naked men. I cannot, for the life of me, find any men willing to strip. They just don't understand how much money they could make!"