The young, usually white, girls who hang out next to the rope in a nightclub's VIP section waiting to be summoned to the table of a gentleman with
bottle service. Usually identified by their H&M knock-offs of Herve Leger bandage dresses, these girls are quick to drink your liquor and leave when you run out of vodka. Their retreat is usually marked by loss of cell phone, tears, and walking away barefoot holding Steve Madden heels in their hands. The normal migration home includes vomiting
in the back of an Uber or catching the very last train to Suffolk/Nassau/
Westchester County or New Jersey.
John: Man, I'm glad we got a table tonight.
Greg: Yeah me too, the table lice are
actually pretty strong here. Let's grab
that group of three on the edge of the rope
over there.