"How can we make money without getting real jobs?"

My friend Kiki and I often asked ourselves this question. We were both interning in Manhattan for the summer and unable to make rent because we spent all of our money on fun stuff. Determined not to end up on St. Mark's Place with a cardboard sign begging for bus fare, we scanned the Village Voice employment section, skipping over the ads for waitresses and body rub girls in search of less humiliating work.

While I went out to sell half my wardrobe to Beacon's Closet, Kiki answered an ad seeking "pretty girls with pretty feet." She wasn't sure what she would actually have to do with her feet to earn money, but so long as no one wanted to chop them off, she'd be fine with it. And of course, I would go with her.

"It's just our feet," I rationalized.

"Yeah, it's not like it's our mouths or our pussies," Kiki agreed.

So we spent the afternoon giving ourselves pedicures and climbed five flights of stairs in open-toe sandals to an oddly-furnished office space in Midtown. The room contained not desks, but several couches and was heavily curtained despite not having any windows, just like the room from the dream sequences in "Twin Peaks."

"Let's see your feet," said the man who let us in.

We both removed our shoes and wiggled our toes nervously.

"These are nice!" he enthused and told us to come back later for his weekly "foot party."

The deal was this: Our job was to mingle with the "guests" who paid $50 at the door. If they wanted time alone with our feet, we charged them $20 per ten-minute session. Sex was not allowed, but "foot jobs" were permitted.

I never gave any foot jobs, but it's just what it sounds like. Most of the guests just wanted to massage or suck on my feet, and it surprised me how many men enjoyed doing this. And Kiki and I made hundreds of dollars in just a few hours, which was good money considering all we had to do was sit there and let guys slobber all over our feet.

We always made the most money as a "tag team." As soon as I finished a session, I would promptly introduce my client to Kiki. Likewise, she would give all her clients to me when they finished with her. This way, we made twice as much money as the other girls, who often came alone. I supposed that being a foot whore wasn't something they could share with anyone, which seemed sad to me. I was very happy to have someone to share this goofy part of my life with. Kiki and I could roll our eyes at each other and giggle about "all those creeps" while we washed our feet off in the bathroom sink afterwards. And no, it never once occurred to us that we were just as creepy.

Check out Jessica's blog at www.jessicacutleronline.com and MyAsiance page my.asiancemagazine.com/jessicacutler