Dominatrix

Does anyone remember the 'Spice Girls'? Or is it just me? Okay, well, whenever I think of dominatrixes I think of Posh Spice. There is a scene in 'Spice World' where she is wearing a silver dress and she points her finger at the camera and meows.

It is an image that is forever burned into my brain.

It was the image that came to mind as I climbed seven flights of stairs in my stockinged feet for a job interview at a small leather studio in Midtown Manhatten for a pro-domme position. In a desperate attempt to get money, I had applied for a job that I did not (and do not) feel I was/am tempermentally suited for. I have no desire to beat anyone up, I can't picture myself standing over some naked person calling them a 'dirty pig'. It's just not in my nature. Besides, I am perfectly content to continue being the dirty pig. But that does not change the fact that I need money to get through the next few months.

So I put on my respectable skirt and low heels and a borrowed shirt from Aimee, and I went and flirted and cajoled my way into the studio owner's heart. I was perfectly prepared to take this job after 45 minutes of laughing and talking. He showed me around the studio, and when it came time to leave, I told him I would call him the next week and let him know about the job.

The next day I went to the doctor and discovered that I had several problems with my foot, one of them being altered bone growth. Two of the bones in my foot grow closer together than they should. It's not a big deal, I just can't wear heels all the time, which is what this job requires. After all, a proper pro-domme cannot wear her slippers in a session no matter how much she wants or needs to.

And thus, my career as a dominatrix ended before it even started. Ah well, back to the drawing board.