Dodge into a booth and lock the door behind you.

The lock clicks behind you as you fiddle with it, your cold fingers taking a second as you worriedly feel the cool metal of the lock against the cheap plywood of the door, little more than a restroom stall.

Taking a moment, you evaluate your surroundings.

Ancient early 2000's TV on the wall playing a DVD of a pale redhead getting turned out by a few stereotypical black gangster types, very 2003.

Sticky floor, condom vending machine on the wall that was very obviously broken into with the door hanging off, and dim enough lighting that you couldn't make out what made the floor sticky. Great.

Backing up against one of the walls, you take a breath. That is, before you feel something prodding your butt. Something hard, but still somewhat soft that yields against your firm ass.