Patrón (silver, chilled, with lime and salt), Jack and Coke, vodka and any of the various energy drinks, though tonight was in part sponsored by Fever, which prefers to be called a “club drink”; and then more Patrón, Jack and vodka, and more, and more and more—which is to say, three very busy bartenders; and a DJ, Vudu Spellz, spinning tracks like Akon’s “Smack That” (featuring Eminem) and Fergie’s “Fergalicious,” party-goers singing and miming along to every word, the predictable clubsters whose names appear on every promotional mailing list in town and who never miss a bash for any industry; and, tonight, the city’s professional entertainers—strippers, that is—for whom the party was dedicated, for whom the bar was open all night and the Patrón and Jack and vodka flowed and the bartenders kept busy, and for each of whom the shirtless men of Playgirl had a single rose, to be received upon entering the warm, bright, intimate showroom, which they did between 6 and 7 p.m., wearing short shorts and tops that exposed as much of their fake tits as they could get away with, which was a lot here at Sapphire Gentleman’s Club, browsing about the promotional booths set up by the party’s sponsors, like Fever “club party” drink, and in all certainty standing out from the other girls in the house: middle-aged women with astronomical natural breasts who came to watch the Men of Sapphire put on a performance at 8 p.m., which they did, in lurid fashion, much to the chagrin of the male clubsters who came because the promotional flier they received in their e-mail stated “500 of the Hottest Girls Under One Roof.”
In other words, Monday night in the showroom of Sapphire Gentleman’s Club was a typical party in Las Vegas.
However, on the strip club’s main floor, which is billed as the largest in the world amongst its kind, there was but one guy, sitting alone in the dark, and two strippers, one of whom was dancing without inspiration on the secondary stage and the other of whom was sitting at the bar, doing nothing, while the sole bartender working there kept darting between the empty main floor (to see if anyone new had arrived) and the showroom, where the party was still throbbing at 9 p.m.
Or, in short, it was an atypical night at the Sapphire strip club.