In October of this year, famed author of Internet erotica Miss Behavin' stunned her readers by announcing her semi-retirement from writing. Shocked readers deluged the guest book on her Web site with pleas for explanations and her return to the active writing community, but to no avail. Insiders told Internet Sex Report that the beloved author, recipient of the 1999 Golden Clitoride Awards for Best Author and Best Story (for her short story "Batteries Included"), was emotionally drained after a year and a half of producing some of the best-received erotic stories to be posted on the alt.sex.stories newsgroup.

"The poor thing has just worn herself out," confided Maria Gonzales, another author of Internet erotica and a confidant of Miss Behavin's. "I think the shock of winning both the Golden Clitties was just the final straw," Ms. Gonzales added, apparently attempting to adjust her custom-made brassiere without drawing undue attention from your reporter. Despite the sounds of four active offspring in the next room, it was all this reporter could do to maintain his professional detachment during Ms. Gonzales' struggles to adjust her lush breasts more comfortably within the lacy lingerie showing now at the open neckline of her otherwise conservative white blouse. When asked to assist with the adjustments, Internet Sex Report's ace investigator found it necessary to summon up a mental image of his mother-in-law's face before muttering an excuse about other interviews and deadline pressures to cover his hasty retreat.

The next author scheduled was the retired but not forgotten icon of Internet erotic humor M1ke Hunt. As Mr. Hunt is well known for his fascination with the female form, it was assumed that this would be a straightforward discussion of Miss Behavin's announcement.

"You know," Mr. Hunt mused, "since my own retirement I've really kept an eye out for female ASS – um, that is, I've been particularly cognizant of the female writers on alt.sex.stories – and I've noticed that Miss B has been coming consistently." Mr. Hunt shook his head as though dazed or perhaps medicated. "What I meant to say was that Miss Behavin' has consistently been coming up with new material on a regular basis, and I was beginning to wonder how long she could keep me up – or rather, how long she could keep up that pace." As Mr. Hunt didn't seem to have any significant insights and seemed to twitch every time your reporter struck a key on his laptop while attempting to take notes, the interview concluded early. When last seen, Mr. Hunt was digging through an untidy stack of papers in his office and muttering something about "…June's been hiding my printouts again."

Finally we received a break in this story when David, Miss Behavin's long-suffering proofreader contacted Internet Sex Report and admitted that Miss Behavin' herself might be willing to discuss the situation in order to reassure her readers that she is at least still among the living. It was suggested that yesterday might be a good day for the interview.

"I happen to know that she has to take her car in for service that day," the intrepid proofreader noted. His idea was that an offer of transportation through the course of her busy day might be the incentive that would bring Miss Behavin' forward for an exclusive interview with Internet Sex Report's investigator and so arrangements were made to meet the elusive author at an automotive repair facility somewhere in Ontario.

[Editor's note: As part of the agreement to grant this interview, Miss Behavin' and her representatives, particularly Mr. Behavin', insisted that all references to the name of the city be deleted from this story and that ISR merely report the already-public knowledge that Miss Behavin' makes her home somewhere in the Canadian province of Ontario.]

It was easy to spot Miss Behavin' in the waiting room at the repair shop. Not only was there only one woman present, but this reporter notes that few other women in this unnamed city are likely to be found at eight o'clock in the morning wearing a black broad-brimmed hat reminiscent of Ingrid Bergman in "Casablanca", a slinky black dress ending at mid-thigh, black thigh-high stockings without garters and four-inch black stiletto pumps. [Editor's note: You think we let just any schmuck with a journalism degree do investigative reporting for Internet Sex Report? We have very high standards, including at least two years of staff experience on a quality investigative staff such as the one at the Weekly World News.]

Your reporter apologizes for the interruption from his editor – apparently, yet another hack from the New York Times has been flooding our job applications e-mail account. Now where were we? Oh! I remember…

This reporter initially found it difficult to understand Miss Behavin's low, throaty voice over the sounds of rush hour. Just as he was beginning to wonder if she was treating us to her impression of Lauren Bacall in "To Have and Have Not", she confessed that she was suffering from a "terrible freakin' cold", but would endeavor (or endeavour, considering the source) to speak up so that her words would be intelligible when the tape was sent in for transcription. With that matter settled, ISR's reporter prepared to conduct his probing, in-depth interview. Unfortunately, Miss Behavin' directed him to turn into a parking structure and explained that she had to get to her regular day job, but that she would be available to continue the interview at noon.

"You are buying me lunch, right?" she asked your reporter. When assured that she would be taken to lunch, the long-legged Canadian temptress sighed and admitted her irritation at the number of people who took up her valuable time trying to pry information from her and then expected her to provide them a free lunch as well.

A hasty call to Internet Sex Report's offices resulted in the accounting staff reluctantly approving a deviation from the normal $20 per diem meal allowance so that this subject could be entertained in a manner likely to put her at ease and elicit the truth behind this mystery, although one senior accountant did ask what was wrong with the buffet at Pizza Hut and a pitcher of beer. This reporter was reminded that he had managed to break the Roseanne-Tom Arnold divorce story armed only with a sack of Burger King Whoppers with cheese, but the accountants conceded that Canadians might be more difficult to persuade than Americans, perhaps because of all the extra u's they put in their words, eh?

Permission was also obtained to trade in the Ford Escort rental car for a Mazda Miata in order to further put the subject at ease. Before our loyal readers begin writing letters, this reporter knows the Miata is associated with another female author, but he thinks it's a really cool car and besides watching Miss Behavin' climb in and out of the low bucket seats in that dress is worth a little added expense. Accountants!

By the time internal issues had been resolved, it was time to return to Miss Behavin's office to pick her up for lunch. At 12:43, your reporter was beginning to think she would never make the interview, but at that moment, she came dashing breathlessly out of the front doors of the building.

"I'm terribly sorry," she told me, "but I'm just swamped by e-mail today." She bent down to the Miata's window level, which (considering the décolletage of the black dress) did much to alleviate the disappointment of a delay in the interview. "Could we possibly finish this up after work this evening? After we pick up my car, you can drop me off at home and take me to dinner. Here's the phone number of an excellent restaurant." With that, she dashed back into the building, though the afterimage of her elegant backside disappearing through the door seemed to stay on your reporter's retinas for several minutes.

A quick call to the restaurant in question was followed by a much longer call to the accounting department. Not only were dinner prices considerably higher than the waiver already granted on my expense account, but the restaurant had a waiting list for reservations that was only bypassed with the promise of an upfront $100 (Canadian) tip.

This reporter spent the afternoon looking for anything in this city that might interest the Internet Sex Report readership. Amazingly, it would appear that Miss Behavin' (and Mr. Behavin' of course) are the only people in the entire city having sex of any kind. That in itself seems worth a follow-up investigation perhaps by the twerp from the Times if the pictures he supposedly possesses should change the editor's mind about hiring him.

[Editor's note: Look for a special investigative report "The City That Sex Forgot" in the next issue of Internet Sex Report. As for those pictures, they had nothing to do with our decision to hire our newest investigative reporter, a distinguished veteran journalist formerly of the New York Times. Besides, I was playing poker with friends that night and I have witnesses to prove it. And anyway, she swore she was eighteen.]

Precisely at five o'clock, this reporter was sitting in the red Miata outside the offices where Miss Behavin' works at her regular job. One hour and eight minutes later, she dashed from the building and scrambled into the passenger seat, unfortunately too quickly to appreciate the resulting view.

"If we hurry, we can get to the shop before they close," the Canadian beauty gasped, her rapid breathing somehow causing a similar acceleration in your reporter's heart rate and respiration. Twenty-one minutes and one traffic citation later (and hopefully that will be approved when the expense account for this trip gets to accounting), we pulled into the repair shop's parking lot and Miss Behavin' dashed inside just in time to retrieve her car from the shop. Unfortunately, the high-speed dash through rush hour traffic and the screaming of sirens precluded any in-depth interviewing en route.

I followed the seductive author to her home and was introduced to Mr. Behavin', who acted the perfect host while his wife changed for dinner. He proved to be a patient and charming man in every respect but one: he would not answer any questions regarding his wife's "semi-retirement." Any information on that subject, he insisted, should come from Miss Behavin' herself. Since he had a generous hand with the bottle of Jameson 1780 Irish whiskey, we discussed a variety of topics as we waited, none of them germane to the topic of this article.

Two and a half hours later, when Miss Behavin' emerged wearing something green, an unexplained illness had gripped your reporter. The Behavin's were gracious enough to call a taxicab to transport me to my motel, since the sudden illness appears to have rendered ISR's investigative reporter incapable of operating a motor vehicle.

The true tragedy of this turn of events only became apparent when your reporter woke the next morning with a splitting headache to the sound of a ringing telephone. It was the senior accountant from the home office who was previously mentioned. He explained, several times, that ISR simply could not afford to extend this trip one more day. This was due in no small measure to the fact that the airline tickets had been purchased on a discount that precluded travel on the following day (a Saturday). Bloodied but unbowed, your reporter took a public bus to the Behavin' residence, retrieved the Miata, and returned to the airport for the flight home.

The balance of the "interview" with Miss Behavin' was conducted via electronic mail and proved to be much more revealing than the face to face attempts. Rather than subject the reader to a long string of e-mail exchanges containing much that could fairly be represented as private in nature, we have received Miss Behavin's gracious permission to summarize it as follows:

As much pleasure as I personally derived from writing and posting my stories, not to mention the tremendous response from my readers, it was those very responses which led to my decision to enter semi-retirement. You see, I began so many e-mail dialogues with so many of my admirers that they began to take up more and more of my time. Some of them, with male readers possessed of especially vivid imaginations, became so heated – yes, I think heated is as good a description as any – that they began to require all of my erotic imagination (except that part reserved for Mr. Behavin').

This did not leave me with either the time or the energy to write stories of the quality my readers had become used to. Rather than disappoint them with an inferior product, I made the decision to semi-retire until all of these e-mail streams reach their proper conclusions.

[In other words, gentle readers, Miss Behavin' is currently engaged in what may be the world's slowest and longest orgy via electronic mail and the rest of us will have to wait for it to end before we see any more stories from Miss Behavin'. The only good news is that she should have a lot of material for a new series of stories.– Internet Sex Report]