It looks like Ron Hunt, the flamboyant owner of Nexus Gold Club and the Edge/Wet strip clubs, is first in line for a coveted spot in Ward 5.

The Alcoholic Beverage Control board determined Aug. 1 that Hunt had submitted a liquor license application for 2127 Queens Chapel Road NE well before his fellow strip club owners, Deloris and Ronald Dickson, submitted theirs for a space at 2122 24th Place NE.

That’s relevant because, under current law, two nude dancing clubs can’t be fewer than 600 feet apart, and the properties Hunt and the Dicksons have been eyeing are 19 feet apart at their nearest point. Only one of the displaced clubs can relocate to the spot, with the prized license going to the one who got there first.

According to an alcohol administration official, that’s Hunt, who, barring any formal protests from the neighborhood, seems poised to move forward with his application.

Here’s a little something Ivy City residents who might have concerns about adult-themed clubs coming to their neighborhood should know: You already have one.

Club proprietor Bob Siegel isn’t waiting to rebuild his adult-themed empire after his eviction from the stadium site. In order for Siegel to serve drinks and have live entertainment, he needs the council to pass legislation that would allow him to transfer the nude dancing license to the Ward 5 warehouse district. The city used eminent domain to chase Siegel and several other business owners out of their O Street SE digs near the new stadium.

For 10 bucks before 7 p.m., and $15 after that, patrons to his club at 2120 West Virginia Ave. NE are treated to a huge warehouse with all the accouterments Siegel once offered in Southeast. No alcohol is served.

After passing through pay station and being buzzed in, patrons can take a quick right past the sex toys into the “theatre,” a large projection-screen TV in a small room that contains four large high-backed benches. At 1 p.m. today, only one patron was taking in the show.

Farther back in the sprawling complex is a black-light room and plenty of very dimly-lit side rooms. A patron or two hang close to the wall in the shadows. A sign in one of rooms reads: “Please dispose all paper towels, garments, and trash into the garbage bins.”

In a better-lit area of the warehouse, a construction project was underway: Two workers were building a maze of eight-foot-high cubicles for the “glory hole” portion of the premises.

Siegel was on site, but he refused to speak about his burgeoning enterprise, sort of. “I’m not happy with the way your paper is playing this Harry Thomas thing up,” said Siegel. His reference was to this week’s Loose Lips column on the battle over legislation that would allow club owners displaced by the new ballpark a one-time relocation break.