A tubular wonder, Bed resembles, from different angles, a sleek flashlight, a robotic eye, or the beginning of a Martian invasion. Once past the bouncers, you are in a painfully minimalist white barn headed for outer space. The people here, it must be said, are truly beautiful, if in a coarse, monied way, running the gamut from clubby expatriates and showy hi-so girls in late model jeans to women fro sale with those patented $200 smiles and expensive orthodontia. True to the club's name you can lie down on a series of white, oddly comfy beds to watch a man giving a woman's bottom a deep-tissue massage on the dance floor while a 300-pound lothario slaps his own butt in a frenzy of movement and sweat.
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