Blow Job in the DJ Booth

True Tales of a 90’s Stripper.

Woman playing pool

All throughout high school whenever anyone asked me, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ I always answered, ‘ I wanna be a stripper.’

I don’t know why I wanted to be a stripper.

I took ballet classes all through elementary and junior high school until my mom got mad at me. Her punishment was taking away dance class, which was something that I thoroughly enjoyed.

I suppose a person could probably point out that I had a desire in my deep mind to hurt my mom for being punitive, perhaps…. except~ I remember doing sexy dances for my friends at sleep overs long before that day in the car after school when she yelled from the front ‘That’s it, I ain’t payin fur yur dance classes no more .’

I honestly don’t even remember what I did to anger her. My mothers temper simmered right below her skin, red blotches that appeared moments before she screeched my name in rage.

I remember riding the rest of the way home sitting alone on the thick burgundy velvety seat of the 1987 Oldsmobile Cutlass looking out the back window with tears streaming down my cheeks. My purple Jansport book bag had slung off the seat, as a result of my mother’s driving, scattering homework on the car mat.

My sister, who was our mom’s favorite was in the front riding shotgun, a coveted position I rarely enjoyed. She saw me crying and handed me her favorite jelly bracelet between the front seat and the drivers door so our mom wouldn’t see. I put it around my wrist.

My grandmother who lived with us at the time told me that she would pay for my dance classes, however, she was on a very limited budget so she could only pay for four classes. I went ahead and took the four classes and then never went back into a dance studio until I decided to go to college. I was thrilled and surprised to find out I could take dance classes as an elective with my art major. I signed up for ballet.

By that time I was 20 years old and had already been stripping for almost two years.

I absolutely loved the formal strict, traditional barre work at the beginning of ballet class. It made my heart sing, I felt as if a million suns were illuminating every cell in my body as I pirouetted and jeted across center floor.

Our teacher played classical music on a record player with albums that were first editions. The covers torn and faded, with photos of pianos or orchestras on the front. Often times they would skip…she would instruct us to continue dancing while she softly walked to the record player and picked up the needle to move it ahead on the album.

I love the scratchy sound a record makes before and between songs.

The first day of class, I wore a black leotard, light pink tights, and white leg warmers with traditional flat pink ballet shoes. I twisted my long blonde hair up in a tight bun.

I walked into the dance studio and took my place at the barre.

Our diminutive ballet mistress also wore her hair in a bun, however, she wore modern dark leggings over a leotard and no shoes. A couple of the other girls in class had on baggy sweatpants, and a T-shirt. One other girl was dressed like me~ an old-school ballerina….I could tell a few girls had classes from our teacher previously, as they were dressed identical to her.

Mistress immediately called out the girls in the baggy clothing. She informed us she needed to see our bodies during class, to ensure proper form and that we all must wear fitting leotards and leggings or tights.

Everything I remembered from ballet class back in junior high came rushing to me. My body remembered all the positions….what it felt like to be a ballerina, even if it was in the basement of a college rec building.

Before the next class, I bought black leggings, ditched my ballet shoes, and came back to class next week copying what my teacher wore.

She said that she could tell I had ballet experience and she often used me as an example in class. I don’t know that I was any better than anybody else. I do know that I was happiest dancing in ballet class.

I breezed through ballet I and II, performed in recitals for the college (which were sparsely attended) and of course, the finale presentation for a grade at each semester’s end….then…. that was that.

I guess one could surmise my foundation in Ballet created a depth of skill that although creative, would never be acknowledged in the venues where I performed.

Pirouettes added to my stage performance at the tittie bar. I was very good at twirling around in a circle really fast and flipping my hair at the same time. It’s not easy, especially in heels and a thong with my titties out.

The first stage I danced on was shaped like a T with the long end against a wall of mirrors and a small runway that extended out into the bar floor with seats on either side and a pole at the center.

When I started dancing in the late 90s, pole work wasn’t as popular as it is now.

I used the pole to swing around with one leg hooked to the pole and the other one extended out, I also leaned up against the pole to do a sexy grind to the floor, I would occasionally grab the pole with both hands, swing my legs up over my head and twirl down. It wasn't until the 2000s that I really saw an increase in performance on stage with the pole.

A few months after my 18th birthday, I had my boyfriend take me to our local titty bar so I could audition. I borrowed a friends sexy purple velvet dress that zipped up the front and barely covered my ass, and bought some black strappy heels from Frederick's of Hollywood in east Knoxville.

The platform heels all the dancers wear nowadays didn't become popular until the early 2000s’, before then we all wore regular ‘high heels’.

The DJ asked me what I wanted to dance to, I told him to play ‘rock 'n' roll’. He choose AC/DC shoot to thrill.

So that was the first song I ever stripped to.

The owner of the bar was a woman, whom I’m sure was much younger than she appeared. She ran it with her two sons. One son was the DJ and the other one ran the business side of things. This is in East Tennessee, so imagine the smokiest, most liquor smelling, redneck biker bar you've ever been to…now add topless dancers.

When I finished my audition, she told me I was hired. I was super excited, I made $80 on stage at my first performance. She told me I got to keep my tip money from my audition, however, there was a $50 bar fee that I had to pay every night plus tip the DJ plus tip the bartender (business sons girlfriend).

The first night I worked, my boyfriend dropped me off. He drove a Harley so I had all of my dance clothes and my shoes in a backpack strapped across my shoulders. At that time I was doing my makeup at home before I came into work, later I would change up my routine.

The very first girl who friended me went by Lisa. She was genuinely kind, she took me under her wing and showed me the ropes. Thank goodness.

I made a mistake the first night of not having a place to secure my belongings.

I removed my jewelry, which was beautiful, turquoise and silver earrings, bracelet, and ring that my boyfriend bought me ~put them in my backpack and thought they would be safe. While I was out on the floor, one of the girls went through my backpack and stole all my jewelry. I told Lisa about it. She went to the dressing room and let everybody have it. Lo and behold, my jewelry was back in my backpack by the time I left at 1 AM.

I hope Lisa is doing good in life nowadays.

It was summer of 1990 and I was finally living my dream of being a stripper.

This little titty bar that I worked in had a back room with a couple of pool tables and for $20 the customers could pay us to play pool with them topless, needles to say, I became quit skilled at racking and breaking.

They also had couch dances that were $15. The house took $5 off of a pool game and $5 off of the couch dance, not including the $50 that we paid to work, that was called the ‘house fee’.

When I first started, business son created a happy hour beer special that included a neck and shoulder massage from a dancer with every beer purchase. Dancers got $1 from the massage. Tops stayed on. Eventually those happy hour beer specials stopped….massages started migrating from the shoulders to the lower back and then around to the front.

I always made my house money first and tipped the bartender and DJ early as well.

During this era of stripping,I kept my money in a garter very high on my thigh and secured my money with a rubber band. I was previously placing my garter right above my knee then one of the girls told me to move it up as high as I could on my thigh, because men would give me more tips on stage because the garter was closer to my pussy, she was correct.

At that time I worked from 5pm until the bar closed which usually was around 1-2am. There wasn’t that much going on in East Tennessee that late at night back then, even on a Friday or Saturday.

It was Thursday night, lots of business men were in town~ those customers were my demographic.

I’m 5’2, with natural blonde hair and blue eyes. I have a tight little body, a really pretty smile, perky tits and I’ve been told that my ass is ‘perfection’. I very quickly made the house fee.

The bar was set up so that when customers walked in the front, they saw the business son behind a booth, ‘checking IDs’, and taking the $25 entrance fee.

The men waiting to come in heard the muffled sound of loud music with the occasional DJ’s inflection as he announced the dancers on stage.

A cigarette and gum machine, both of which only took quarters were placed at the second door which opened to the inside of the bar.

There was no ATM. When a customer ran out of money. Game over.

Business son always wore muscle shirts with the various gyms he went to printed on them….there were no clothing requirements for men entering the bar. Later in my career, I worked at bars where men had to wear collared shirts, not here, though, in the hills of East Tennessee.

I was 18 and couldn’t drink alcohol frankly, never been a big drinker anyway. However, every single bar that I’ve ever worked in girls sold drinks. Most bars, if you sold a certain amount of drinks, you didn’t have to pay house or you got money off of your next house.

Selling drinks was also a great way to engage someone in conversation and get to sit down. Customers knew the girls had to sell them so it was pretty easy.

For example, I would walk up to a man and ask, ‘Hey, do you mind if I sit down? Would you like to buy me a drink?’ And as soon as I sat down, I usually made between $40 and $60 (Back then floor dances were $5!). On this particularly lucrative evening I made my house fee plus DJ and bar tip by 7o’clock.

The owner sat at a counter between the entrance and the bar and took the house money. She was usually reading a romance novel or flipping through a gossip magazine. She was always very nice to me. I never caused any trouble. I didn’t do any drugs. I didn’t get drunk and always made the house money.

“Did yew know you averg about thray dranks a customer?” She asked me as I was counting out the $50 for my house fee. “I haven’t really paid that much attention.” I replied, as I got my bills, all in order facing the same way.

I kept my money in my garter with denominations from least to the greatest with my highest bill on the outside, facing the customers. I felt like it was an advertisement, good PR.

Some girls came in with money for the evening. I didn’t. What was the point of bringing money into a strip club? Weren’t we supposed to make money there?

Even though I didn’t have any alcohol in my drinks, they charged a customer as if I did. The bar gave out tickets for drinks to the dancers at the end of the night that added up to how many drinks each girl sold. Dancers could turn those tickets in for $1 off of the house fee next night they worked.

I always gave my tickets away, I didn’t know when I would be coming back to work. “Ye ain’t gotchur tickets from last week?” She asked, raising her penciled in eyebrows and furrowing her brow.

I shook my head no and gave her $50.

“Well honey, you ourt tah keep up witem. hit ill save yew sum money.”

I shrugged my shoulders, smiled, and replied with, ‘Thank you, I’ll see you at the end of shift.’ I still had to tip out any couch or pool dances I did.

The night was far from being over.

I walked three steps down to the bartender of the month and tipped her $30. There wasn’t any standard set for how much we had to tip the bartender or the DJ.

I always tip very generously, it really does make a difference in the energetic flow of money as well as the vibe I like to live in.

The DJ booth sat between the floor where the tables and chairs for the customers faced the stage and the back room with the pool tables.

Set up high, the DJ could see everything that happened in the bar.

The stairs that led up to the DJ booth were cut narrow, it was a precarious climb in heels and a short sequin dress. There was a handrail that looked like it had been an afterthought someone hurriedly pieced together with leftover scrap wood. I used it to pull myself up the stairs….entering the DJ booth.

The DJ was announcing the girl on stage, so I laid 2 $20 bills down beside him and signed my initials beside my printed stage name on the roster. I smiled at the DJ and turned around to walk out.

He grabbed my arm and twirled me around, holding onto me as he finished promoting the girl on stage, “Come on fellas, show Brandy some love…I never had a teacher that looked like that in high school…I bet she takes extra credit if you wanna make a good grade!” Brandy was dancing to ‘Hot for Teacher’ by Van Halen. She wore a cute short, striped grey mini skirt and she had a black ribbon in a bow that hung over her black lace bra, she also wore black sheer hose attached to black garters under her skirt … she wore black eyeglass frames. Her hair, which was in a loose bun, fell down after a few hair flips. Very sexy stage set.

Every single strip club I’ve worked in during my 15 year career, there has always been a girl that is dressed up like a sexy teacher and danced on stage to that song…. it’s truly a classic.

Brandy also had a ruler as a prop that she used to smack her ass.

The DJ turned off the mic and let go of my arm. I stumbled back, I was knocked off balance from his grip and standing stiffly while he finished his bit.

He looked at me. I recognized the look.

The DJ and the business brother looked very similar. They must’ve favored their dad.

Their mom had bleached blonde hair and brown eyes. She looked rode hard and put up wet.

Her son’s both had brown hair and green eyes.

Business son was tall and he dressed like he was always either going to the gym or had just come from the gym. His arms were absolutely massive, but his legs were super skinny.

DJ son was a bit smaller than business son, he was also the youngest. He did not work out at all and preferred partyin and selling blow to the dancers. He asked me once if I wanted to buy an 8 ball, I wasn’t into it. The only thing I ever did was smoke weed….anyway my boyfriend sold all the drugs. I didn’t need to purchase them from a DJ in a titty bar.

His gaze stopped at my mouth.

I always wore a red lip at work.

That night I wore my black sequin see-through, mini dress and pink thongs with my Frederick’s of Hollywood heels that looked like a spiderweb. I always just let my long blonde hair do what it wanted, I have a natural curl in my hair, I wash it and let it air dry….it gave tousled Rapunzel vibes. My nipples poked through the sheer dress that sparkled with sequins, I had a crystal hoop in my belly button that often got caught on the dress as I was taking it off.

“I’ve always fantasized about getting my dick sucked in the DJ booth, whadya say?” He asked loudly.

I stood there, staring at him, unsure of what to say.

Of course, all night long working in a strip club I was propositioned for sex and blow jobs and dates and promises of ‘taking me away from this’.

Yet, this took me by surprise.

In high school, the gym teacher sexually assaulted me in the equipment closet, that was different though, my gym teacher didn’t ask….He just did it.

None of my boyfriends ever asked, they just pushed my head down on their hard cock.

The first job I ever had was cleaning houses. I didn’t wanna do it. My mom made me ….she found the houses that I cleaned… mostly from word-of-mouth at the Ruritan. Many of the houses were elderly couples that just couldn’t clean anymore …..I had a few that were single dads that didn’t know how to clean.

Those houses were the absolute worst.

Once, I went to clean this single dad’s house who had his two children staying with him every other weekend. I was appalled at the filth, I ended up throwing a bunch of his dishes that had piled up in the sink, covered in mold and caked on food out into the field ~ it was just too much to clean.

Of course, my mom kept all the money that I made.

I didn’t have much experience in the workforce, I hadn’t started waiting tables yet. Being a stripper was the only job I’d had so far in life.

“Hey!” The DJ looked at me, “Did you hear me?”

A stared blankly back at him.

“I want you to suck my dick in here.”

TO BE CONTINUED……