TORONTO - It costs nothing to enter the Brass Rail Tavern, where naked women writhe on stage all night. But the tab rises quickly inside Alex Rodriguez's favorite Toronto strip club.
A bottle of Molson Canadian lager cost $8.75.
A glass of white Zinfandel for the pretty blond spilling out of her white bra is $10.25.
A quick lap dance runs $20, she explains.
"You can grab," she says. "You can touch me anywhere, except my [genitals]. That's my job."
For the budget-minded gawkers who crowd the Brass Rail on busy nights - many of them men with thin hair and wide eyes - a brief squeeze in the crowded room is as good as it gets.
But upstairs it gets better.
Past the hooting crowd, through a neon-lit arch and up a red-carpeted stairway lies a quiet enclave for those with deeper pockets.
This is where A-Rod took his stripper girlfriend, Joslyn Morse, 30, last weekend. The area is quiet enough to talk, small enough to feel friendly, calm enough to feel classy.
"It's $20 to get into the VIP room," the blond explains. "But I really like it up there."
The room has a few plush red couches against the walls, a fake plant in the corner and not a single flashing light. It doesn't have a view of the stage except for a small video monitor.
But VIP patrons don't need to drool at the stage; they are armed with wads of $20 bills for their own private dancers and they can pick and choose who they want to see up close.
There also is a club on a higher floor called the Upper Rail, with a $20 cover for everyone and private rooms available by the hour - $100 for the room, $400 for each dancer.
The Upper Rail's patrons tend to wear straight-from-work suits, and dancers and staffers said several Yankees - including A-Rod - have visited.
But the Upper Rail is closed Sundays, so when Rodriguez, 31, and Morse came by a week ago, they ended up in the Brass Rail VIP room.
"I know he came in here," said a petite brunette stripper with a South American accent. "They went upstairs."
The real action happens around the corner in a tight alcove of open booths, each with a red cushioned chair and stools. For $20 a song, a dancer will peel off her outfit, unfurl a tiny cloth on her customer's lap - one dancer used a Winnie the Pooh towel - and wriggle up and down the customer's body.
The booths face each other and are barely 2 feet apart. On a busy night dancers have to carefully place their feet, arms and knees to keep from knocking into each other.
They moan and fondle themselves, order more Zinfandel from the roving waitresses then beg for one more song because they're loving this so much.
A yellow sign above the door says: "No sexual touching allowed by law." But authorities apparently interpret that loosely since on one recent night, many naked women were being groped by men.
"I'm waiting for my buddy," a customer told a tuxedoed bouncer at the door. "He's fallen in love."
The bouncer shook his head and replied, "Happens every night."
