Ten million dollars well-spent, Penthouse Magazine....

Ten million dollars well-spent, Penthouse Magazine. They boast "Where the Magazine Comes to Life." A really trashy, naked, gyrating and glittery existence.

Approaching the Penthouse amid the factories surrounding it was like a mirage. It was so bright and yet so secluded. It was intimidating. The entrance forced us to walk the red carpet, though there were no paparazzi in sight, unfortunately.

I have been to seedy strip clubs, but this was truly a different experience. The ladies weren't strippers. They were dancers. They danced atop motorcycles suspended in midair circling a lit up catwalk. One of the walls twinkled with LED lights. The ladies wore real, plastic platform stripper shoes and circulated the club topless. The cocktail waitresses were slow to take expensive drink orders, and never brought back the change. The bathroom boasted a naked photo of Danny Bonaduce, save for his privates covered by a guitar.