Executive’s Den

Lotsa girls with stretch marks and meth problems… so why not give it 5 stars you ask?! Well, its kinda dirty and the hours are weird. A lot of dudes at Lincoln come here when we get our bonus checks! And dont even ask for a rub and tug…

A fortnight ago I was committed to host a cocktail party at THE Country Club in Pepper Pike where I have been a member for over 25 years. The event was to meant to be a celebration of my father’s retirement from our law practice after 60 years. However, at the last minute, the drawing room at the club was not available. So we were, tragically, without a venue for the festivities.
While speaking on my cell phone, my lawn care specialist Manny overheard and offered to help me with my dilemma. Desperate I thought I’d take a chance and see what Manny had to offer. I simply explained to him that the drawing room wasn’t available at the club and that I needed a small private club or room for executives in which we could engage in celebration. Though English is not Manny’s first language, he seemed to understand and immediately suggested the gala be moved to The Executive’s Den.
Fabulous, I thought, a club for executives and powerful men of industry. I only hoped that it wasn’t too opulent for my 85 year old father. He had requested the festivities be held in a locale that was a notch below the Oak Room in Manhattan but a notch above Helen’s on Martha’s Vineyard. How ever droll my father is.
So my father and 12 of his fellow retired law partners were driven down to Cleveland to join the pedigreed elite of the Exectuive’s Den.
First the neighborhood was a bit vexing. The club, The Executive’s Den, seems to be situated atop a rail yard immediately adjacent to a freeway of all places! I had to verify the address over the phone with Manny several times. He insisted we were in the correct location. Then we noticed the inconspicuous neon sign that read «Executive’s Den» behind some crude glass block in the storefront. We almost missed it. We eventually realized it was well played on the club’s part. You certainly don’t want ruffians or hooligans running amok in your prestigious club so it was a fantastic idea the club remained fairly inconspicuous.
As we went in, we realized rather quickly that the club, though not advertised, is a retro club where everyone and everything is meant to look as though it were from the mid to late 1990’s. A fantastic surprise. We were greeted in the foyer by the host of the club. A large man in a smart sport coat with a goatee and ponytail who said his name was «Tony». He was a be-​musingly delightfully cad who instructed each of us to pay him $ 5 tribute to gain entry. I thought I recognized him from another acting role. I was certain he was Malvolo in a production of Twelfth Night I had seen at the playhouse. Though when I asked him, he replied that he certainly was not. He also replied in character and with language I would not want to repeat here I might add.
It was very dark inside the club. My bifocals were of little use so I removed them. I have to say the light could have been a lot better. I’m afraid with my limited sight I was only able to really see shadows and shapes. But my father seemed to be having a delightful time so it didn’t spoil my fun at all. In fact, he seemed to be hitting off with several ladies who had taken a liking to him. Seemingly the minute we sat down in our seats! Such good fortune.
I do wish the lighting was better. There was evidently a floor show going on that I could barely make out. A real show stopper, I gathered from the sound of it. The music, a tad loud, piped in as contortionists performed on stage. One contortionist at a time. That is until two came out together to perform some contorting routing called the scissor. It hardly seemed impressive with my limited vision as they seemed to merely lay atop each other on the floor but it received the largest applause of the night so clearly I was missing something.
At this point my father had disappeared. Apparently he had been invited to the «Champagne Room» which I assume was a well-​stocked tasting room with a bevy of fanciful Asti’s and Bruts. They must have been delectable because he seemed to keep going back there time and time again.
I unfortunately was not able to make my way back to your champagne room that evening. I had met a lovely woman whose stage name was Amber Waves. She had the most heartbreaking story. She was working as an actor in the show to pay her way through college where she was studying to work in Special Education. In fact, I met 10 other women that night in the exact same situation and educational discipline. What a fantastic thing the club has done here finding a way to keep these actors in need in their employ.
We ended up staying well past 10pm I’m afraid. Most ungentlemanly but my father said he and his fellow retired law partners all enjoyed a wonderful evening and that they’d be coming back again and again. I simply must try that Champagne room. My father seemed to have sampled so much fine Champagne that his trousers were actually loose from all the bubbles I’m assuming he consumed that evening. Top drawer Executive’s Den. Top Drawer!