Mélanie Berliet

A couple of shots make it seem less odd that almost every nook—including an elevated, cushioned cubby accessible by ladder—is occupied by a twosome engaged in an aggressive round of necking and/or heavy petting.

Have sex when you don’t want to.

“You’re the Jedi pooper,” my boyfriend declared roughly six months into our relationship. He was referring to the fact that I’d managed to duck detection while going number two for an entire half year.

In the quest to invent strategies for becoming blindingly blitzed, no group excels quite like the young.

Are Americans prudes? Some people think so. After all, the country that gave the world Elvis’s hips, free love, and Porn Valley is also a land founded by Puritans, given to legislating what goes on in the bedroom, and perpetually outraged by the sexual dalliances of politicians (though, to be fair, even the Italians are getting fed up with presidential philandering).

What I never expected was that one of these guys would become a constant source of entertainment.

As the reality of what I’d gotten myself into set in, I began to have doubts. Maybe my parents were correct and I was, in fact, an absolute loon.

To overcome my reservations about walking the line between dating and prostitution, I told myself that any such concerns were the result of societal conditioning.