This place was new, and clearly upscale. It had a doorman and a long line. He didn’t have a chance getting in by waiting. He knew the bouncer wouldn’t buy it, but he decided to try playing “delivery boy”.

As he walked across the street, two painfully attractive young girls flanked him. They each looped an elbow and pressed their curves in close.

The first, an olive skinned vision with slightly oriental features, cooed “Hello Daniel, I’m Cosette…”

“And I’m Éponine,” lilted the second in a birdsong whisper. Her hair was cut short and razer straight. She was Cleopatra with fiery red hair and emerald eyes.

The doorman unclipped the velvet rope and let them pass without so much as a glance. Grumbles of dissent from the lineup were cut off as the door shut behind them.

“We have a private room waiting,” said Éponine.

“We want no interruptions while we examine your package,” they said together.

The innuendo was obvious to the extreme, but effective. Daniel was struggling valiantly to keep his brain in gear.