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Melissa Febos authored "Whip Smart: The True Story of a Secret Life," a memoir of her work as a dominatrix in New York City.

(Rachel Eliza Griffiths | Press photo)

"Attractive young woman wanted for nurse role-play and domination. No experience necessary. Good $$. No sex."

This was "The Village Voice" advertisement answered by Melissa Febos when she was 21 years old. For four years, she worked as a professional dominatrix in an upscale midtown Manhattan dungeon.

She made $75 an hour to whip, spank, insult, blindfold, gag, even urinate on clients who ranged from married fathers to stockbrokers.

Now 33, she teaches creative writing at Monmouth University, Sarah Lawrence College and the Institute of American Indian Arts.

Febos authored "Whip Smart: The True Story of a Secret Life" (2010, St. Martin's Press) a memoir of her work as a dominatrix while she studied at The New School in New York City.

In the book, here's how she described her first experience with a client:

"Anxiety, and a corset that cinched my waist six inches smaller than nature intended, confined my breath to the shallow region of my chest. My bosom literally heaved, straining against its lacy contraption and obstructing my view from the naked man who knelt at my feet. Cold tears ran from my armpits. The darkness smelled of stale incense and the briny tang of bodies past and present."

Syracuse University will host Febos to read from "Whip Smart" at its Nonfiction Reading Series this fall. More details about the series can be found here.

It won't be her first time in Syracuse. Febos used to teach creative nonfiction classes at Utica College during the 2011-2012 school year. During that time, she gave a reading in Syracuse for the Downtown Writer's Center.

We spoke to Febos after her last afternoon class on Friday, October 25.

Katrina Tulloch: I see you currently teach creative writing. Are your students about the age you were when you became a dominatrix?

Melissa Febos: (laughs) Oh, yeah. Yeah, I guess they are. It's kind of amazing. I'm coming straight out a class full of freshmen and, except for a couple of them, I could never imagine my freshmen doing that. They just seem so sheltered.

As a professor, I rely heavily on writing prompts. For one essay I assigned about the experience of breaking a rule, more than one of them threw up their hands and said they couldn't think of one.

I feel somewhat incredulous, honestly. I imagine most of them have broken rules before, but it doesn't govern their decision-making or appeal to them in any sort of meaningful way, as it did for me when I was that age. But I don't feel like that part of me is active anymore.

KT: How curious are your students about your former line of work?

MF: This is a new job and it's my first semester. If they do know, they haven't worked up the nerve to ask me about it yet.

When I taught in another MFA program, it was a non-issue. People tended to approach me on the last day with my book to sign it.

When the book first came out, I was nervous about it and their reaction. What I found overwhelmingly was that they didn't express their reaction. They look to me for a cue to talk about it.

KT: Do you assign "Whip Smart" for reading in your classes?

MF: No, I never have. It would be making their job harder and it would be awkward for everybody. It's important for me to make the distinction for them to talk about my experience as a human being and as a writer.

I'm completely open to talking about them about the book, but it wouldn't be appropriate to assign, like it wouldn't be appropriate or necessary for any teacher to talk personally about themselves. Even if I wrote about G-rated topics, it would be a conflict of interest to assign my own work.

KT: I was fascinated by the moment in your book when you began to consider quitting domming (working as a dominatrix).

To quit would mean gutting my life, and my identity. What would I be without it? ...I would end up some post-college cliche, worrying about her future, getting older, marriage; I would become average.

As a professor and writer, now, do you feel average?

MF: I revel in feeling somewhat average and in my average moments, because I know that they're not actually average. That life I was afraid of is an extremely privileged life that many don't experience. I don't actually feel like I have an average life. I feel very lucky. I can write and talking about things I love.

The heart of the book captures the arrogance of youth and going into something with preconceived notions of that industry and humanity in general, and being humbled by that experience. It was hard to write that young character.

Any adult who's kept a journal has that experience, like "Oh my god, you little fool."

KT: In the book, you looked forward to socializing because you the had ammo to command a conversation. By mentioning your job, you had the power to be the most interesting woman in the room. What would people ask you about your job?



MF: They always wanted to know about my clients. I think our fascinations with subcultures or perversion is that we're covertly measuring ourselves up against them. We want to see if we harbor these simultaneous desires, that we are nothing like those people, that we have more in common that we think. We always want a mirror.

I fielded a lot of questions about my experience. They wanted to know if I hated men, if I sounded erotic. I liked surprising people. I like seeming unaffected with it. I associated myself strongly with the job and assigned a social value to it. It made me feel very powerful.

KT: How often did people openly judge you or find your work despicable?

MF: Rarely. I was a pretty savvy reader of people. I didn't brag about it to people I didn't think would be impressed. I didn't tell my professors at the time. I had a different version of the story for my mother and for my friends. I would cater to what I thought they wanted to hear.

KT: Early in your dominatrix career, you noticed how sessions with clients seemed to invert misogyny. The men enjoyed reenacting the traditional subjugation of women on themselves.

Now how do you feel about it?

MF: I think I feel less definitive about it now than I ever did. That's probably the wisest perspective I've ever had on it. A lot of that book and that world are very much about stories and how we need stories to survive things and to make sense of things.

That was true of my clients to psychologically make sense of something they couldn't digest. Misogyny is an indigestible thing, and I think it's as uncomfortable for men as it is for women.

We develop stories to make sense of the world. I think the book could be framed as the stories I told myself.

KT: What did you want to be when you were a child?

MF: A writer.

KT: Do you ever get bored of continuing to explain dominatrix work long after the book was published?

MF: I remember my [publishing] agent saying to me, "Look, last chance. Are you sure you want this to be your first book?" I said of course.

I've never had a moment of regretting it. A lot of it doesn't have much to do with who I am now, which is true of any book subject.

You have to immerse yourself so deeply in a subject, but you can never just let it go once it's out there. I think the themes and ideas and meanings in that book are things I will be writing about for the rest of my life.

KT: Does teaching fill your interest in performing, being in control or in having an audience?

MF: In my early years of teaching, one of my goals was to have all my students adore me, which was exhausting.

I often compared teaching and domming because they do have a lot of common denominators. What's important to me in teaching is that it's grounded in a devoted honesty to experience and craft. I can't say I'm ever faking it. What I believe about art and literature doesn't change.

KT: What else are you working on currently?

MF: I'm working on a novel and just started a new nonfiction book. I'm working on a bunch of essays. During the semester, sadly, it's hard to clear space for anything I'm not teaching or researching.

KT: At the end of "Whip Smart," you discuss missing some parts of dominatrix work. Do you still feel that way?

MF: No I don't. I still dream about it, but I don't think I ever miss it anymore.

Nonfiction Reading Series: Melissa Febos

When:

Thursday, October 31 from 4-5 p.m.

Where:

001 Life Sciences Building at Syracuse University.

How much:

Free and open to the public.

Next writer in the series:

Cheryl Strayed will read on Wednesday, November 20 at 5:30 p.m. in Gifford Auditorium at Syracuse University's H.B. Crouse Hall.