Cheetahs Gentlemen’s Club Review Las Vegas


A new weekly attraction on the site will review strip clubs in the Las Vegas area, in depth and one at a time. You will never again have to guess at the quality of the club before you pay your cover. Appropriately, the premier column will cover Cheetahs, made world-famous by the mediocre Showgirls.

When you see these lights, good times are ahead...

“What’s your name?” the busty woman asked, from her perch atop my wildly deflating lap.

“Mark,” I answered honestly (tip: always be honest with strippers. If, as Billy Joel asserts, honesty is such a lonely word, and strippers are some of the loneliest people alive (sometimes), don’t you think they deserve it?). I then asked her for her own name, in an attempt at politeness.

“Europe,” she answered.

“Ah, Europe,” I said. “That’s not the worst dancer name in history. Like the continent, or like the band?”

Then she laughed the phlegmy, hacking laugh of a woman who had been in the game a little too long. “Oh, honey,” she said. “The continent. I had my name long before the [early Eighties prog rock turned obnoxious metal] band ever existed.” Rhetorical readers’ poll: Is this an excellent way to sell me a private dance, or the perfect time to excuse myself to use the facilities? The answer is: you don’t know me enough to answer that question.

To be fair, my recent trip to standby favorite establishment Cheetahs (2112 Western Ave., Las Vegas. (702) 384-0074) did not follow that troubling trend for the entirety of the evening. This Friday night, the club had roped in more business than usual, and the girls were out to earn their singles. The music was typical strip club fare, but with an over-abundance of Michael Jackson (no worries, people will get over it in a couple of weeks, and we can get back to business as usual). I would also like to take this opportunity to note how adorable it is that strippers think they know hard rock and metal enough to choose inspired music for their on-stage performances. Soak in the troubling novelty of enjoying a go-go dance to “Du Haust,” and imagine how you could teach each and every one of them a thing or two, if given the opportunity.

On my patented Sliding Scale of Titty Bars (seriously, it is mine), Cheetahs has traditionally warranted a 6 out of 10. This is not to say a higher number necessarily means a better time. Heck, my personal favorite establishment in town (and next week’s feature) ranks a 2. Take into account cover charges, atmosphere, service, and physical quality of the dancers to get your number on the sliding scale. Entertainment is an entirely different issue.

Cheetahs ranks a 6 for the following reasons. Upon entering, one pays a twenty dollar cover (unless, of course, you have taken advantage of their transportation deal, which is entirely worth it); not bad, considering you can expect to pay forty in some self-touted swankier clubs in town. The twenty is worth it, if it must be paid, because there is almost constantly a stage show happening, on either the main stage or the two smaller auction-block style tip rails by the bar. This should not be remarkable for a strip club, but it is, and Cheetahs gets points for classy legitimacy. While inexpensive, the existence of the cover in the first place is what bumps the club higher on the scale, because it means the club must be worth it, right?

Another reason is the service. Count on your cocktail waitresses to be as hot as or hotter than the woman on stage, and in cheetah print skimpies. Not only that, but they are intelligent and attentive, efficiently distributing refreshment, and quick with a coaster. Then again, they ought to be considering beer prices in strip joints these days. With a little friendly pressure applied, my entourage and I encouraged one of the waitresses to take up dancing for our next visit. That’s service.

Ah, yes. The part you, dear readers, care about. The girls at Cheetahs average among the more comely of what we affectionately refer to as Strip Club Row (Western Ave. is packed with g-clubs). Look for girls that are professional before anything else; the great care taken to appear their best pays dividends for the most part. Costumes are more inventive than usual, and pole acrobatics are usually top notch. The tip rail on the main stage remained, even at the club’s most crowded, surprisingly vacant. This means the brave soul who steps up will be rewarded with plenty of personalized treatment from the performer on stage (special notice should be afforded to Tee Tee who provided me with my finest tip rail experience in my long career of scumbaggery, and thus earned herself several private dances from yours truly).

The crowded nature of the club this weekend gave the girls some license to be less attentive than one would hope. Several of the dancers skipped the pleasantries to beg for a dance. Ladies, keep in mind that any reasonable man’s answer to that will be an emphatic negative, and that is if he is feeling generous. Still there were plenty of women ready to entice you to spend your money, and these are the keepers. Two of the less attractive women there even had a filthy mouthed tag-team act that obviously worked on several patrons, who turned a blind eye to their minor physical flaws. A girl from Serbia told me that this was nothing short of her calling, and I was entirely convinced.

As per usual, private dances at Cheetahs run twenty dollars. Unusually however, the dances happen right where you are sitting in the main room. This means less privacy, to be sure, but keep in mind that no sort of extra discretion is required of the patron if the dancer doesn’t want to take him to a shadowy, smoky corner. I see this as a major benefit, as people sitting around the lucky gentleman are afforded an excellent show while he enjoys himself. This means there is never a shortage of eye candy, no matter what corner of the compass one chooses to direct his eye. Cheetahs ranks among the best, most relaxed club atmospheres in town, and is worth the visit strictly for that reason. Oh yeah, it was in that movie with Elizabeth Berkeley too, for those of you who still have not seen the Saved By the Bell alum nekkid. (VIP room entrance will run you a hunsky to start, but gosh is it worth it. I don’t think a family oriented site like this will want me to elaborate.)

Gentlemen’s Clubber Tip #1: If you are entering the club to cap off a night of boozing and dancing at clubs and bars, considering opening an additional button at the top of your shirt. It is a never fail tactic that gets your bare chest fondled while you are being solicited for what remains of your dwindling 401k. No worries, a fresh tip with every coming review. You’ll be an expert in no time.

Epilogue: There was no room to say this in the review, but the bathroom attendant sports your usual assortment of mints and eaus de toilette and… real actual hand towels! What sophistication!

Visit the Cheetahs official site

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