You’ll need a choice of staging areas, places to come down, set the tone, seal the deal, steal the prize.

Story By Bill Becker

Most people know my type. The guy who thinks night's as much for parties as for sleep. Which means I like to hit the clubs as much as the bed sheets. The point in this short life is to have the most fun you can, and in my wordbook, that means Las Vegas. While some folks take Vegas on the come, with me, it's the watering holes and I know just where to find the sweetest ponds in town.

First thing's first and that's always the line. My number one rule? No lines. I slip through the velvet ropes like butter on toast. Butting heads with the host and bouncer, lightening my pockets by a couple of Andrew Js, I'm suddenly a VIP. Hey, hey!

Before I know it, a most delicious young waif in a tight black cocktail dress hands me my favorite slammer, a Scotch straight up, thank you, smooth and golden like her tanned forearms. She's tall, imposing, with clean lines and I'm thinking, "Wouldn't she look nice in leather." I'm contemplating things I know she doesn't want to hear, and delighted that I'm actually ahead for her not hearing them.

I'm not interesting to all types, but I do know that I'm bold enough to approach, attack and improvise, so I'm dropping in at clubs with foreign-sounding names, tapping drinks I've never heard of, always rising to the occasion with new conversation, new pick-up lines. I favor couture de jour over jeans, taxi rides over coupe calls, cruising over choosing.

All I knew a few weeks ago was that I was in that neon land that time forgot, gunning for some serious relaxation. The night was young. I was just getting started. Glad the beer I'd ordered five hands ago was a distant memory. Why? I knew I was in Martiniville now, the town of tightly mixed drinks in ice-cool places and all I can say to you is whether you're planning a date at the wildly erotic "Zumanity" Another Side of Cirque du Soleil, downing a steak at Prime with a capper at Light or just cruising along The Strip, you'll need a choice of staging areas, places to come down, set the tone, seal the deal, steal the prize. Trust me. I've worked this beat a long time. Here's what I suggest.

Caramel at Bellagio
I'm addicted and I've told no one. In these dark, leathery environs, I'm thinking I might just get away with it. This is a lovely fantasyland. If you're like me, you'll see the word chocolate and immediately pull out the green for their chocolatecoated dream drink in a Martini holder.

Even I flinch when a doe-eyed waitress sporting tight black fishnet stockings and a short dress split up the thigh, sits down to take my order for an Oreo Shake consisting of Baileys, Dutch chocolate vodka, Godiva chocolate, a splash of crème with crushed Oreos, shaken not stirred, and strained in a chocolatecoated cocktail glass.

And just for an instant, my mind wanders away from that cool Joan Doe to this luscious explosion in front of me. All around, there's thumping techno music. The room's outfitted in warm, brown woods, deco modern leathers; it's bathed in accent lights; it's got an edgy, young, forward energy vibe. All in all, very cool, usable. The babe walks away, but I'm stalking her, sitting, hatching my plans-until, that is, I meet up with a small group of business people who just flew out from JFK and are out to grab Vegas by storm. They're drinking blended Chivas and straight Skyy Martinis, but of course, they're ogling mine. That's when I realize I'm ready to blindside that fetching fawn asking for my Visa.

Mist at TI
I'm a bit over my head in this place, sinking into one of its living room-style deco leather love-seats resting on a plush Oriental. Here I am amid warm cherry woods with the neat lines of the decor stirring my blood, along with the fresh orchid stems placed Asianstyle in vases on the illuminated marble countertops.

I've come here at this quiet afternoon hour because, frankly, there's a Caramel feel to this place. I start talking with the barman, a nice Irish lad with the classic name Shawn Barker. He tells me Caramel and Mist are cousins, along with Light because they are all the work of Light, a company that has opened lounges in New York and Las Vegas.