Colette's Ether

Tipsily walking down a side street near the Place Clichy metro in the early hours, you stumble into a seedy smoke filled burlesque club saturated with beautiful women of questionable morals. You strike up a conversation with a dancer after her performance, and she soon offers you a line of cocaine. You oblige. Before you know it, you have run up a tab of almost 1,300 francs, and have agreed to take her shopping the next day for jewelry.