Non Fiction

Read "Fetish," a Chapter From Catlyn Ladd's Strip: The Making of a Feminist

I have pretty feet. They are thin and highly arched with long toes and even nails. The tendons ripple under the skin and the stripper shoes I wear make the vessels pulse. Unlike many of the girls, I mostly do not wear platforms. I prefer stilettos with five-inch heels that reveal the top of my foot. I have the metal heels and bought the same pair in white. I have patent heels with an ankle strap, heels made of Lucite, and heels in red leather. Sometimes I wear boots as well. I own boots crisscrossed with silver buckles that come up over my ankles, knee-high go-go boots, and thigh-high vinyl boots with silver studs. Footwear is important because it’s often the only thing on my body other than underwear. Strippers spend a lot on thongs and shoes.

The man is in his sixties, nicely dressed in tan pants and a striped dress shirt. He places a dollar on the stage and I squat before him, opening my knees provocatively. It is the first song of the set and I wear pleather pants that zip apart at the crotch, a tantalizing strip of silver teeth running between my legs. On top I wear a complicated vest of straps, a wide band across my breasts. I have paired the ensemble with the metal heels. His eyes never leave my feet....

 

Catlyn Keenan