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If this run-of-the-mill gentleman’s club seems like a Scores knock-off, it’s for a reason: It’s owned by Big John, manager at the aforementioned stripclub for fifteen years. Poised near the Javits Center and the Lincoln Tunnel, it’s no surprise that the crowd—not to mention their New Yawk-burred topless titillaters—seems more Long Island than Manhattan. An attempt at columned neo-classical elegance doesn’t last beyond the entry where you’re socked with the cover: In the dark, smallish main room, the upscale drabness of the black-painted ceilings, mirrored walls, and dark hotel-hallway carpet is brightened up only by gigantic flat-screen TVs playing football games on either side of the large stage, where a lack of poles leaves the ladies with little to do beyond wiggling aimlessly—by themselves or occasionally with each other. From velvety club chairs in the seating pit, guys’ guys dressed in everything from full-on tuxedos to jeans and Rangers jerseys can gawk at their pals getting languorous table dances while the DJ pumps out the obligatory soundtrack of alternative rock, house, and butt-shaking Hot 97 faves. More naughtiness can be had in one of fifteen private rooms. — Daniel Maurer

The adjoining formal restaurant serves appetizers, sandwiches, and pricey entrées such as filet mignon and penne alla vodka.