You Can Dress Them Up, But You Can't Take Them Out
She stood facing the rest of the dining room. First she took off a vest or a jacket, as best Mr. Le Dû remembers. Then she went to work on her blouse.
Just as she was getting to her bra, the maître d’hôtel got to her. Thus her drunken, wobbly stint as a stripper ended, and so did her dinner. She and her date, a smiling, sloshed man who had seemingly egged her on, were escorted to the door.
He has his first glass of his beloved Montrachet sometime between 4 and 5 p.m.
It’s never his last.
“People are often doing things underneath the table,” said a veteran server who has worked in many of Manhattan’s premier restaurants, including Gotham Bar & Grill and Fleur de Sel. The server asked not to be named for fear of angering past or future employers.
“The darker the restaurant, the more romantic the restaurant — there’s going to be some activity,” she said.
*(If I'm the moreal compass here, we're in serious trouble indeed!)
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