"Hoy they-uh," she said. He grinned. She even had the accent down pat. "Hey, baby doll," he said in his best imitation of Al Capone. She frowned sli...htly then brightened. "Oi loik ya cawstume, where'd ja foind it?" Once again, he tried to concentrate on what he would say. She was a knockout, he just _had_ to get it right this time. For the s*******nth time tonight, he heard a friends advice in his mind. "Just be yourself. People can sense when you're putting on an act." He tried to relax. . “Now… Is it assault if there is no ‘hitting’ in the sense of punching of any kind, or indeed any force that is usually intended for an ‘enemy’ or of the type intended to cause hurt, harm, or to maim, or cause injury? What if the ‘level’ of force is brought down. Down, down, down. Not a punch at someone. Not a chop or a clout or a thump or a kick. Not even a clip around the ears.“Down to a ‘slap’. “Yes, yes, yes. One could always argue that a slap is assault.“But what if, for argument’s. ”“You ... seriously want me to take your plane this weekend?” Max asked carefully.“It’s not my plane. I seriously want you to take it this weekend,” said Nick. “I can’t do it every time one of you want to fly off somewhere or I could, but it would be a nontrivial expense. So, consider it a thank you for keeping yourself and my other friends from getting arrested on some bullshit charges this weekend.”“I didn’t...” Max started to protest.“Group effort,” Nick interrupted him. “But you kept your. Then my guy said “use your ass, I love your ass” so I backed up against him and finished the lap dance rubbing my buttocks against his crotch. Evidently it was exactly what he wanted, because he handed me an extra ten as I climbed off of him. The other customer was a tall, rangy older man in white painter’s pants and a striped tank top. He had long white hair and a stringy goatee, and a friendly smile. He told me his name was Al. He sat slouched way down in his chair, with his legs stretched.