Date: 07/28/2012 The “sexy schoolgirl” look is one of the world’s most ubiquitous and beloved clothing-oriented fetishes. Oh, those little plaid skirts, crisp white blouses, flirty sailor bloomers, restrictive ties, childlike knee socks and other school uniform accoutrements! How they stir feelings of arousal, nostalgia, innocence, sweet frustration (aka “tease and denial”) and titillating naughtiness in the uniform wearer (who could be female, male or transgender) and the partner (who might “play” a teacher, dominant disciplinarian or other school authority), as well as the schoolgirl uniform-loving voyeur. Our dear friend Master D, prominent dominant in LA’s BDSM scene and grandson of Australia’s late legendary nightclub king, Abe “Mr. Sin” Saffron, has been a passionate fan of the schoolgirl look since he himself was a schoolboy. So on the occasion of his 40th birthday, I dressed up as a sexy “head mistress” schoolteacher (complete with short houndstooth plaid skirt, professorial sweater, Sex Week at Yale hat and thong) and transformed the Womb Room into a College of Carnal Knowledge filled with a dizzying array of short plaid skirts, Spongebob shirts, raging hormones, various corporal punishments and lessons in love. Tonight’s standardized test: LAPDANCING. Pay attention or get spanking detention! Note: Though there are indeed actual “schoolgirls” in attendance for the festivities, they are all college or post-graduate students over the age of 18. By putting on this schoolgirl-themed show and party, we are in no way trying to encourage or “play into” society’s eroticization of underage girls. We are just responding to it—since we can’t help but be affected by it—by outfitting grown women (and men) in the titillating garb that so many twisted cultures around the world encourage us to desire but forbid us to touch.

Are you or have you ever been a sex addict? Has anyone ever called you one? What is sex addiction? Is it a real psychological illness or a myth concocted by professional addictionologists, inflated by the sensation-hungry media and perpetrated by desperate-for-redemption celebrity “sex addicts” like David Duchovny and Tiger Woods? What about John Travolta? What about us? What does it mean when we talk about problematic human sexuality as an “addiction,” i.e., an uncontrollable sickness? Perhaps equating sexual behavior with narcotic abuse by using the clinical label of “addiction” is actually more indicative of a mental illness in society than it is the individual. Maybe “sex addiction” is just the current craze of therapists and mainstream media attaching fear to recreational sex, much as it was with prior commonly held beliefs such as masturbation leading to blindness, or that women with high sex drives were victims of “nymphomania.” Despite the lack of scientific substance, people love to call themselves and others “sex addicts.” It’s like we’re addicted to seeing ourselves as addicts. And even though being called a “sex addict” tends to be pretty humiliating, it can also be kind of sexy, especially for the great number of people who find the idea of being helplessly “out of control” intensely erotic, not to mention a good excuse for bad behavior. So maybe the best option is just to wear the label like more of a badge of honor than a scarlet letter, much as people are already doing with labels like “slut” and “queer.” As more and more normal people say, “Yes, I’m a sex addict, and I’m not ashamed,” maybe so-called experts would stop using it to vilify people whose sexual tastes are simply different from the norm or, on the other hand, to exonerate selfish sexual conduct. We’re All Sex Addicts Now. This show’s scintillating discussion on these subjects with Dr. David Ley, author of the The Myth of Sex Addiction, is followed by a veritable Sex Addict Orgy on my bed! Well it is the second week of Masturbation Month, and it’s not enough for us to debunk masturbation addiction myths–we also need to masturbate! Thus ensues a wild shrieking romp of Sybian rides, fisting and giant black dildos, more Sybian rides, trapeze and naked hula-hooping in the after-party, a moment of trauma when I broke an art piece (which can be fixed!), more erotic escapades, followed by some particularly hot sex with the hubby in our private after-after-party. Yes indeed, we are sex addicts, and we are not ashamed.