Last week I watched a movie that wasn’t necessarily a foot fetish movie in which Katja Kassin nevertheless jerked off her partner with her feet. It was not the first time I thought, Is there anything Katja Kassin can’t do?
Still, that wouldn’t have worked for me. I would have been worried about subdermal corns or muscle spasms. What if Katja got a charley horse in her powerful calves? No more Gram-hammer, that’s what. In slow motion, we would have watched it arc over the air hockey table.
“Entschuldigung,” she would say.
Saturday I visited the set of Kick-Ass Pictures’ foot fetish movie Barefoot Confidential. Kick Ass isn’t strictly a fetish house, but its owner, Mark Kulkis, is strict about certain things, which is admirable in a business in which teens aren’t always teens and MILFs aren’t always female.
It was Kick Ass and (former) contract star Mary Carey who parted ways when the latter got a boob job; Kick-Ass requires talent with no surgical enhancements.
And so there were rules about the display of feet in the scene I watched, between the delightful Micah Moore and Jack Lawrence, a guy who should be President of the Porn Valley Chamber of Commerce for his genuinely friendly manner.
“French dipped?” I asked. You’re damn right I wouldn’t want to see Micah Moore dipping her feet in Au Jus, nice as she was.
I hadn’t visited a Kick Ass function in a while, so I made a point of introducing myself. I hate when people show up, eat your hamburgers, and don’t say Hello.
There was that moment on the set, after I’d been introduced to director Glen Baren and walked behind the camera, that Moore asked Lawrence, “Who’s this guy?”
One thing that I wish producers would do when inviting press to sets is to let the talent know beforehand. Even the biggest exhibitionist likes to know who the audience is. I explained myself quickly, having forgotten my Gram Ponante: America’s Beloved Porn Journalist satin jacket in the wash.
The scene was called “Barefoot Vegan”. The script called for Moore to be an escort who refused to let Lawrence near her because he was a carnivore, but she’d let him suck on her toes. I give the screenwriter points for reality, because money changed hands before anything happened and she called it a “donation” (I also would have accepted “tip”).
There was also a subtext of buyer’s remorse; Lawrence had already forked over the cash before Moore dropped the bomb. This happened to me when I bet on the Ducks in the Preakness.
The actors improvised dialogue, which only added value to the scene. I realize the following line might seem crude to read, but it was hilarious in person.
“I can tell you’re a vegan,” Lawrence said, “because your butt-hole is tiny. You’ve got a spaghetti-shitting butthole.”
Like Uber Ego, another company that releases fetish movies that uphold the standards of people who subscribe to that fetish, Kick-Ass took the niche seriously.
As feet go, Moore has great feet. But as a mathematician I was looking at her ass. I could teach geometry to lobotomites with her ass. She can make her ass into excellent examples of equilateral and scalene triangles.