My stripper shoe story "Good Luck Charm"

You can read the whole story plus other sex and shoes stories in, yes, the anthology called Sex & Shoes which is for sale for only $2.49! I'm reading it live Friday night at Ravenous Nights at Happy Ending Lounge, 302 Broome Street, NYC - see you there! I'll also be posting some more of my stories from my own anthologies soon, may possibly sell some as one-offs on Amazon but I'm happy to share a few here too.

May 6, 8-10 pm
In the old days, we would’ve barked, “Girls! Girls! Girls!”

That’s because May’s Ravenous Nights celebrates the daring dazzle of burlesque and stripping, and it’s shaping up to be a great night. Joining host Lori Perkins: authors Logan Belle, Rachel Kramer Bussel, and Aimee DeLong, all of whom will share risque tales with us.

And we’re fortunate that head mistress of NY School of Burlesque, Jo “Boobs” Weldon, will join us. She authored The Burlesque Handbook and has teasingly offered to give us a lesson or two!

So help us extol the thrill of stripping, give away door prizes galore — and maybe expose a secret or two in the bump and grind!

Event details:
Free. 8 to 10 pm. Dress: street casual.

Happy Ending Lounge
302 Broome Street (between Eldridge and Forsyth)
New York, NY
www.happyendinglounge.com



Good Luck Charm
by Rachel Kramer Bussel

As soon as I saw the shoes in the sex shop, I knew I had to get them for Daisy. They were the most outrageous, over-the-top, attention-getting pair I’d ever seen (and trust me, I’ve seen a lot of stripper shoes in my day). These had the requisite five-inch heels, ones that would make her already long, slim, gorgeous legs seem even hotter, but they had the added-bonus of being casino-themed, with white-painted black dice twisting against each other to form the heel. Below her sole, in the catch-all see-through area, were embedded poker chips and more dice. They were the kind of shoes that could turn anyone into a gambler, begging the numbers to turn up just right, just like they’d beg Daisy to rub her almost-naked body all over them as they sat with their hard cocks straining toward her. Or rather, toward Dolores, her stripper alter-ego.

See, Daisy’s really a dyke, and we met when I was one of her customers. She’s been with guys, as have I, and we can both get off on a good cock-pounding, but when it comes to everything sensual and emotional, we’re strictly girls’ girls. We complement each other in many ways, though, primarily in that she’s the ultimate exhibitionist, while I’m a voyeur through and through. I work a straight nine-to-five job (it’s nothing worth sharing the details of) and she works five nights a week at one of the many strip clubs Austin has to offer. It’s perfect because I have time to go watch her do her thing, which makes me horny as all get-out. I guess you could say I’m the opposite of the jealous type. I love that my girlfriend’s a stripper, love that she can use her beautiful body to earn a living and to liven things up in the bedroom.

So back to the shoes. I was visiting my friend Kim in St. Paul, who’d insisted we head to this adult store before hitting the local bar. I would’ve brought Daisy with me, but she had to work, and I was missing her terribly. Then I saw the shoes and knew they’d be the perfect thing to bring back to her; they may as well have had her name on them. I picked one up and felt a charge race through my body, one that let me know Daisy and I, at the very least, would have fun with these shoes.

But I wanted more than just fun. Or rather, part of my fun is in helping her do her job. I love watching her tease the men who come to her to get hard, horny, and frustrated. I love knowing that I’m the one who will get to feel these shoes pressing against my back while I fuck her, but they will be mesmerized by the sight of them that they’ll slip dollars into her G-string.

I bought the shoes, and the first thing I did when was alone was christen one of them with my pussy, rubbing it against me as I moaned Daisy’s name. Then I licked my juices off and called her. “I got you something on my trip, and you’re gonna like it.”

“What’d you get me in St. Paul?” she scoffed. It’s not like Austin is New York or L.A., but that doesn’t stop Daisy from being somewhat of a city snob.

“Just something that’ll make you even sexier than you are. Something that’ll make me want to touch myself.” I almost added, “Something you can wear to work,” but since she pretty much only wears some glitter, a G-string, shoes and maybe a barrette or two, that would be giving it away.

a woman's right to shoes

many of you may have followed my adventure in shoes during the month of july already. for those who haven't, i've been participating in something called "everyday fluevog", something done for the john fluevog web site (see "where kate's money goes" link on the side), where they post a new photo every day of a footwear fan wearing a different pair of their own fluevogs.

this is obviously a bit of a challenge, since anyone wanting to do it needs to have at least 31 pairs of fluevog shoes. but, as many have already seen, i'm up to the challenge.

so i embarked, with my trusty photographer, on a month-long odyssey of capturing my fluevogs in action, thinking of all the different things that i do in them. you can see a full page of the results here.

of course, there are those who will find my self-indulgence positively sinful. after all, despite the constant exhortations to spend, we are programmed to think that spending on frivolities and spending on oneself is somehow wrong. i can live with that criticism. i have no problem justifying the purchase of shoes when i don't own a car. those are just the choices i've made. those who criticise are probably all wearing crocs anyway.

like a gauntlet thrown at my very feet

ok, we've all heard the jokes about women and shoes. it's one of the "girliest" vices a woman can have. long ago, around the time that my mother started calling me "imelda" in high school, i learned to shrug off the mockery. the argument seems to be that they're frivolous (unlike 50" television screens) or that they're a waste of money (unlike gambling or lotteries) or that there's no way they could all have a practical use (unlike, say, well, almost anything we consciously choose to do). i am a woman with a very large shoe collection and dammit, i'm proud.

i never suspected i was the only one who felt this, but i did think that i was one of the few who could come up with cogent arguments as to why the process of self-indulgence is important, that allowing oneself to have things that can be enjoyed on a purely sensual level is an important part of the brain's reward system and that suppressing this urge will pervert it and make it come out in other ways (like just about every other urge we try to suppress).

but it's been called to my attention that one woman is making a very practical case as to why she has so many shoes: because she wears them all.

and she's chosen to document this blog style on elie's shoes.

well gee, i never thought about doing a photo essay as justification. how ludicrously simple. disprove the argument that my little darlings are impractical by showing me making practical use of them.

now all of a sudden, my high-toned arguments sound a lot like that super-space aged pen that the americans developed, the one that could write upside down, so the astronauts could use it in zero gravity. after investing millions of dollars, they found out that the russians used a pencil.