The name Catherine Glover may not mean much in isolation, but knowing that she is the one who commands Prince on Alphabet Street, “Cat, we need you to rap,” may bring back memories. Glover – who has died aged 60 – was beautiful, full of energy and easily wheeled around the stage in a wheelbarrow in skimpy peach costumes. With her choreography and occasional rap, she brought brilliant, witty sexuality to Prince’s late ’80s era.

It’s no surprise today to see Sabrina Carpenter in flirty underwear or Megan Thee Stallion shaking her booty, but Glover beat them to it by operating in more sanitized times. Born and raised in Chicago, she burst onto the scene in the late ’80s when Tipper Gore was trying to protect children by labeling explicit lyrics “Parental Advisory” – and Prince was at the top of Gore’s hit list.

Prince was always surrounded by beautiful and talented women. Sheila E, Jill Jones, Vanity, Apollonia; I fell in love with Wendy and Lisa when I saw Purple Rain and listened to the soundtrack over and over again (except for Darling Nikki, which I self-censored like a young Gore in case my parents heard me playing a song about a “sex fanatic who masturbates with a magazine”). But as a nerdy white British girl turning 16 in 1988, there was one woman I truly adored: Cat.

She was often dismissed as a sexy dancer or a beautiful backup singer, but she was so much more – a powerhouse who worked during one of Prince’s most groundbreaking eras, around the albums Lovesexy and Sign o’ the Times. Her choreography brought Prince’s stadium shows into the big leagues, and her skills can be seen in the concert film Sign o’ the Times. She also provided vocals for Cindy C on 1987’s The Black Album (which Prince pulled from release but re-released in 1994), the iconic “Horny Pony” rap in Alphabet Street, and choreographed the MTV award-winning video for Prince’s duet with Sheena Easton, U Got the Look. She also released a solo EP, Catwoman, in 1989, in collaboration with Tim Simenon of Bomb the Bass.

Glover started dancing at the age of five and got her big break at 22 on the TV show Star Search as part of the dance duo Pat & Cat. She later said she hoped Prince would discover her as she had fallen in love with him when she saw him live on the Dirty Mind tour when she was a “punk girl with a fake ID”.

Prince’s manager Steve Fargnoli invited her to choreograph girl group Vanity 6 after seeing her dancing in a club. In 1987, she was in Paisley Park and caught the attention of the man himself. David Bowie offered her the chance to choreograph his Glass Spider tour, but she chose to work with Prince instead – and brought out the best in him. Their choreography and chemistry added a visual dimension to his funk and obscenity as he left behind the raw rock of Purple Rain and the slick art-pop of Parade.

The high point of their partnership was the Lovesexy tour in 1988. When they came to the UK, the only band I’d ever seen live was the squeaky clean Five Star. And that pilgrimage to the Birmingham NEC (by bus, with my mum) changed my outlook on life and opened my eyes to a kind of sexuality that was fun rather than scary.

These dance routines were a duel between Prince and Glover, who had a basketball hoop, a giant bed and a car to play with. Raunch was on the bill from the start, as he launched into Erotic City, Head and Jack U Off before moving on to bigger, newer hits like Kiss and Glam Slam. Glover was his glamorous, athletic counterpart, using every corner of the stage, pausing only to spread her legs so Prince could slide through on her knees. At this time, the far more conventional Yazz, Kylie Minogue and Glenn Medeiros were nestling at the top of the UK charts; Prince, as ever, was operating in his own creative universe and Glover was at his side.

Today, when I watch Janelle Monáe switch from her Prince-esque guitar playing to playfully posing her bum towards the Brixton Academy crowd, when I see the male dancers of Girls Aloud crawling hungrily across the floor of the O2 Arena, or when I watch Beyoncé’s Crazy in Love video for the thousandth time, I see Cat’s choreography and sexuality everywhere. Few have brought sex into pop music with such panache, despite being exposed to the gaze of both women and men.