In Manhattan, every waitress is an actress, a dancer, or a singer. Finally, there’s a joint that lets staff put their bodies on the line and lift their voices. At this intimate boîte, the charming staff boasts credits from the likes of Sean Curran’s dance company, the corps de ballet at the Metropolitan Opera, and Smoky Joe’s Cafe. Co-owner Richard Bach acts as beefcake, lending a strong arm at festivities that bubble up every 10 minutes or so. Ignoring the little platform at the back of the room, the women strut their stuff, singing show tunes, slithering between tables, thrusting their fishnetted limbs into your lap. Lifts are tricky; the night I visited, one dancer was nearly decapitated by a ceiling fan. And overall, the lighting needs work. But Piper Arpon, Christie Zimmerman, Danielle Getts, Diana Deaver, Allison Walton, and Maeve Shelton, decked in spectacular glittery garb, are all gorgeous; if they try to pull you out of your chair, go along.