“Another shot?”

James motioned to the open bottle of Jack Daniels on the bar between them.

David tried very hard to tear his eyes away from where Michelle was practicing her moves; even fully clothed there was something undeniably sexy about pole-dancing when she did it.

“Nah. Thanks, but I’ve got to get back to work.”

James snorted;

“That’s never stopped you before. What’s up?”

How could he explain that this story was personal without revealing that he had been screwing a stripper, and worse still a stripper from his friend’s biggest rival. James was a good friend, but he would not have been impressed to discover that David had been nailing Olga, if only because in order to have met her there was a good chance that he had been spending his time and money at a different establishment. As far as James was concerned if David was in Soho, he should be in his place. Of course in James’s place David could not pick up on the talent. This meant that he often went elsewhere; he just did not want to admit to it.