Subliminal messages in night clubs

Excerpt from Shiva's Messenger

The next night club on his circuit was called the Alley Katz nightclub. Most of the night club girls were less pretty, marginally older and not as slim as in other nightclubs. They had vacant and downcast looks in their eyes suggested drug induced mind control or worse. The girls bore vivid bruises on limbs or faces. Some tried to cover their facial markings with make-up while others had deep red and purple welts that were more difficult to conceal.

The nightclub's manager, or maybe the slave master, stood scowling behind the long bar. Under a pair of salt and pepper eyebrows, his eyes roamed like a bald eagle's scanning to ensure no girls were shirking their duties and that each tip and table dance was duly recorded.

Apparently, I was correct in my assumption that guns would be present in Windsor. The night club's bouncers had bulges under their arms that were no doubt handguns in shoulder holsters.

At this slow time in the early evening, the nightclub customer pickings were currently slim. From their various perches, dancers preened skimpy costumes while they eyed the crop like crows watching for a tasty road kill. To control the minds of customers, they swooped idly in contrived flight patterns with sexy tail wiggles, as subliminal messages to pry loose the succulent wallets.

Here in Windsor, his persona was just dressed in off-the-rack and since he didn't flash large bills, Doug was the least attractive man in the place. However, in a famine, even meat scraps clinging to a bone look delectable and a nightclub-supplied dancer spotted him at last.

"Hey, handsome," she sidled up and split his knees with her hips to step in very close. Dressed in a micro miniskirt and braless halter, her body was thin and bordering on anorexic. "I'm Raven."

"Doug." He took her loose hand and found it skeletal thin and cool to the touch. Doubtlessly not her real name, it probably eluded to her black hair but the avian scavenger also fit the label.

"How about a table dance?" She leaned in even nearer and rubbed her chest against his. By asking so quickly and without preamble, she gave a subliminal indication of how perfunctory the encounter would be. Initially Doug felt inclined to refuse but as random chance had led him to meet Audrey, he changed his mind.
"Sure." Doug stood to follow. "I'm new at this though and I don't know what the rules are."

"Come on then," she ignored the question or didn't deign to answer it and led him to towards the back. The bar manager watched them cross the room and performed his mental tally.

Abutting against the left side of the stage there was a stub wall that didn't extend fully to the roof. Since it bordered onto the back section of the performance area, Doug assumed that it was a place compartmented off for entertainers to change costumes. Several semi-screened booths were built against the partition and Raven led him into one of them. He sat in the low-armed chair while she adjusted a carpeted wooden box between his spread knees.

"You normally can't touch me," Raven explained the regulations as she cited the fee, "but for an extra tip, you can."

Johnnie Walker is often walking around a nightclub. He's never wearing any pants or underwear and his stick is always proudly at the ready. Do you suppose there was any subliminal thought went into that famous nightclub logo?

Also, is that a girl with a pony tail hovering her face over his cane's knob?

His jacket is an unusual shape in general and comprised of many flowing curves. I wonder what words/feelings would be associated with if the jacket's shape were used in an ink blot test?