Why the smartest stripper in the world objects to being objectified

Melissa Todd is happily married, a member of Mensa and a sex worker. In her upcoming book she looks at how porn became the enemy

Sunday 05 December 2021 21:30
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<p>I wonder how and why the chap who’s paying for this clip became interested in women getting their hands stuck in vases</p>

I wonder how and why the chap who’s paying for this clip became interested in women getting their hands stuck in vases

Walking into shot, I pause to exclaim over the delicate beauty of a small china vase, before pushing my hand deep into its recesses. The script dictates I must then struggle and wriggle for 10 minutes to extricate my hand. Ten minutes is an eternity. I try not to watch the clock on the wall. I look out of the window, at the passing commuters, and vaguely wonder if, when they hear the word pornography, they could ever imagine this. I wonder how and why the chap who’s paying for this clip became interested in women getting their hands stuck in vases; all my porny friends have also been asked to make this film. Did his mother get her hand stuck at a time that coincided with his first erection? Does the vase represent a vagina, a throat, a urethra? But sometimes a vase is just a vase.

I can’t fathom why my client will pay any amount to see this happen, over and over, anymore than I understand those who want to watch me repeatedly depress my clutch pedal: I’ve a shapely calf, admittedly, but an hour of watching it flex? Nor the chap who likes to watch me deflate a leather football, or the one who encourages me to rub my thighs with Edam. I can’t get my brain round any of those punters’ predilections but I genuinely admire their creativity, their courage in sharing their fantasies and trusting me to render them flesh. I do my best, always, and don’t ask why. It’s a privilege to bring sexual fantasy to life, and I’ve a rare talent for it. It’s been my job for 26 years now.

To pass the time I argue with the angry feminists in my head, the ones who want to simultaneously rescue me and destroy me. I used to argue with them online, occasionally, but my refusal to accept their pity made them so angry I feared their brains might boil over.

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