Confessions of a Boob Fluffer

“The girls need some new costumes. Do you think you could whip up something and bring it tonight?” Denise asked. “The girls have been badgering me for new costumes”.

Denise worked at the store but also had a part time gig as the House Mom at a local strip club. My part time gig was making costumes for the strippers at the club. Because of the store I had plenty of basic lingerie to customize. Because of the strip club I had plenty of customers to sell my custom creations to.

“I guess” I said glancing at the clock. “I’m sure I could whip up a few for tonight.”.

“Great! I’ll let them know. But don’t bring anything until at least midnight because they won’t have any money until then” she said.

I’m not sure how it happened that I started making costumes for strippers. At Scarlett’s, strippers were regular customers. But the store couldn’t just buy one of a kind costumes and the next thing I knew I was volunteering to make stripper outfits. I guess it just came down to they needed costumes and I needed a creative outlet. A creative outlet that involved sparkles and fringe. In some weird way it served both our needs.

I became a good customer at the local fabric store. If it was shiny or glittery or fringy I bought it to use as trim on the costumes I made. I converted push up bras and thongs into shiny, glittery, fringy cleavage enhancing tops and shiny, glittery, fringy cleavage enhancing bottoms. I also purchased yards of velcro to convert the thongs to “breakaways” for easy removal.

At home I had a sexy vintage 1950’s mannequin with curves that would have made Marilyn Monroe jealous. Her name was Twiggy even though she was far more curvy than the sixties fashion model. She was a fixture in the living room and I kept her outfitted in fab sixties dresses with vinyl cutouts and mod prints that I picked up in thrift stores. She had a wardrobe friends were envious of. More than once after a party I found her stripped naked with a note taped to her chest reading “Couldn’t resist” or “Sorry, it looked better on me!”. She was also the perfect muse for my creations. While I pinned and tucked and draped she never complained even when I stuck her with a pin.

I don’t think there is any kind of training available for making stripper costumes, at least none that I was aware of. So my inspiration for stripper costumes was the costumes we created for the store for Halloween. For the base of my designs I used sturdy push up bras and thongs that could with stand the riggers of pole dancing. I dressed Twiggy in the basic pieces and draped six inch fringes and beaded trims on them, pinning as I went. I was only limited by the trims available and my imagination. When those failed I resorted to making themed costumes which were always popular. A lacy white push up bra and matching thong became an innocent, virginal bride with the addition of more lace, pearl beading and a short veil (like there were any virgins in a strip club…). Red satin bras and thongs became devilish vamps with red sequins, long fringe and a forked tail (weirdly popular for some strange reason). Purple bras and thongs always turned into belly dancing outfits draped in gold coins and removable veils (for the dance of the seven veils, of course). Black vinyl outfits became biker chicks draped in chains and accessorized with tiny thumbcuffs (for apprehending unsuspecting patrons). When I became bored with the themed costumes, I would drape as much trim as I could fit on those tiny pieces of fabric. More was better, much more even better. If it was shiny sequins, it caught the lights. If it was swingy fringe, it caught attention. If it was swingy fringe and shiny sequins, it caught tips. Needless to say more on less (fabric) is better when it comes to stripper costumes. The need for something new was never ending as the strippers grew bored with the costumes long before their customers.

Unlike lingerie you would wear under your clothes, correct sizing in stripper lingerie was unimportant. The thong had to be miniscule and a break away – meaning it had to be able to be removed with a single flick of the fingers. The bra tops had to be padded push ups with small cups, the smaller the better for maximum boob-age. Never have A-cup bras been so popular. Squeezing C cup boobs into an A cup push-up bra created enviable cleavage and the best tips. And best tips allowed the dancers to buy my costumes, which is why I rolled into the club around midnight to hawk my wears.

I think I was more of a regular than some of the men who frequented the strip club. The doorman always waved me through while I dragged behind me a large vintage Samsonite suitcase filled with costumes. It was amazing how many tiny bits of fabric encrusted with beads and sequins, fringe and tassels could fit into one large suitcase.

Poison’s “Fallen Angel” was playing when I stepped through the entrance. It looked crowded which was a good sign for selling stripper costumes. First stop was the dressing room to check in with Denise to see how the evening was progressing, tip wise. The dressing room was an unglamorous space in a sickly green hue of peeling paint. The harsh fluorescent lighting enhanced the unappealing room and cast a jaundiced pallor over the dancers skin. When I walked in, one of the dancers had her leg propped on the sink, covered in shaving cream, running a razor over it. Another was sitting on a cheap plastic dinette chair, naked, trimming her bush. Brazilian waxing was illegal for dancers in this state so they pruned strategically to maximize tips. Several other dancers were trying on and trading around different costumes. Wearing a *new* costume, even if it was only new to that particular dancer generated more tips from the regulars. Shortly before midnight I discretely entered into this den of not-so-discrete naked and semi-naked women.

Spotting Denise I called out “Hey! How’s it going tonight? It looks crowded out there”.

“Yeah, it just got that way about an hour ago.” she replied. “The girls (she’s their Mom, remember?) just started make tips in the last 30 minutes or so. I don’t know if they have enough to buy anything yet.”

“No problem. Here they are” I said opening the suitcase. “There’s several two piece sets, a few individual breakaway thongs and garters (for tips)” I gave her the price list and left to get a drink at the bar. Denise’s low-key salesmanship was great for selling the costumes. Being their House Mom they trusted her judgment on what looked best.

I left the dressing room and headed towards the bar to get a drink. The music was thumping loud and strobe lights flickered off the disco balls hung from the ceiling. The colorfully lit stage was filled with dancers in various stages of undress grinding to The Divinyls “I Touch Myself”. While standing at the bar waiting for my drink, several of the dancers waved to me. They knew my appearance at the club meant there were fresh costumes in the dressing room awaiting them.

I sat at a table near the stage to enjoy my watered down drink. Several of the dancers came by offering me a free table dance, which I declined (it did seem a little weird being a single woman in a strip club getting a table dance). I found it interesting to sit there watching the men watch the women on stage who were now dancing to Warrant’s “Cherry Pie”. I ordered another drink from the waitress who came by. My friend Susie, a talented seamstress who made her own stripper outfits, was working that night and came by my table. We hadn’t seen each other in awhile and had a lot of catching up to do. We chatted for a few minutes before the manager caught her eye and she said she had to offer me a table dance if we were going to continue our conversation. Since I had nothing else to do, yet, I said “Sure, go ahead”. She table danced (just for me!) to Prince’s “Darling Nikki” while we chatted about the vacation she and her husband were planning. When the song ended, despite her protests, I tipped her and left for the dressing room. It was good timing too as the next song was Motley Crue’s “Dr Feelgood”. Yeesh, who the hell would pick that to dance to I wondered?

In the dressing room I was greeted by happy newly outfitted strippers. “Thanks!” “Thanks!” Thanks!” was all I heard as they slipped by me on their way out the door to solicit lap dances and table dances. To my surprise, most of the costumes had sold. Denise informed me that I had missed a small cat fight that broke out over the naughty cheerleader outfit. “You might want to make more of those but in different colors” she said. As I gathered the scant remains, I promised to comeback the next week with more costumes. I tipped Denise her cut of the sales. As I left the strip club with a warm and fuzzy feeling from the financial windfall, cocktails and table dance, Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me” was playing.