She was an artist. As they spoke they roamed the aisles, and when they reached the wines, Jaz said:“Red or white?”“One of each,” she replied, ...rabbing a suspiciously cheap Chianti and a Pinot Grigio as if she knew exactly where they were and could have done it blindfolded. Jaz took exactly the same plus a bottle of St Lucia spiced rum, a pleasant alternative to the disgracefully expensive cognac he would have preferred.“How about pooling our resources?’ he suggested, suddenly grateful that many. He'd spun it around several times when she broke the silence between them."Why don't you just admit it. You fucking love strip clubs. You love everything about them."Max was set to deny it again when the answer out of his own mouth shocked him. "Yes, I do. I fucking love strip clubs. I love the music, the sleaze, the booze, the boobs. Fuck, I can't think of anything I don't like about them." The instant the last word left his mouth, he knew it was true. He loved it all. Fond memories of nightly. More

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