The waitress took me into the back and I had to fill out some kind of a waiver. I then picked out a Little Red Riding Hood costume along with a small black mask to hide the top part of my face.
After I was dressed, my sensible side tried to make a come-back.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I told one of the strippers, a girl named Randi who also worked there as a dancer. She was helping the amateurs prepare before getting on stage.
“Sure you can. You look awesome, too,” she replied, looking at my chest. “Are those real?”
“Yeah.” I looked down at my cleavage, which was testing the confines of the tight costume. The dress was super-short and made of red velvet. It had a low scoop neckline and the hem was trimmed with black lace. They’d also found me a clean pair of thigh-high stockings
