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Though sleek and somewhat generic, Tens offers a more tempting variety of strippers than the competition. There are more natural girls with real-girl appeal. They parade around in floor-length gowns, stopping to offer conversation and dances to the men, business types still dressed in work suits. Periodically, a voice comes over the speaker system and announces a specialty dancer, who takes the center stage and does a pas-de-deux with a pole. Sports games play on flat-screen TVs and the music is a little loud, but the girls take their time and seem content to do their jobs. After a sensuous $20 table dance, a buxom blonde in a tight black dress came up and offered me a massage. "It's the same price as a lap dance," she said, "and it lasts two songs!" With focus and dedication, my massager kneaded out all my knots, and she didn't try anything funny, either. "Sometimes men get mad," she said. "When they find out I really am just giving them a massage." When she finished, we continued chatting. "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed. "I read your novel!" Though I didn't have an orgasm, I came pretty damn close. — Amy Sohn