A Trip to Las Vegas: The Adult Entertainment Expo…

“We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.”

And thank god for that. My back had been killing me since I boarded the plane for Las Vegas and I was not looking forward to lugging my bags around without an anti-inflammatory. I was heading to Sin City for the Adult Entertainment Expo and my bags only faintly resembled the luggage Hunter S. Thompson and Oscar Zeta Acosta felt necessary to take with them in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. My tame bag of drugs­ included 48 Ibuprofen, 16 chewable Pepto-Bismol tablets, half a bottle of Tums, and eight caps of Dayquil all stuffed into a Ziploc emblazoned with Spider-Man’s mug.

“My tame bag of drugs…”

Still, I felt prepared. The Vegas of today isn’t Thompson’s Vegas of 1971. Hell, it’s not even the Vegas of a decade ago. The family-friendly Vegas pushed on us a few years back ended in a broken marriage and sure enough the Harley-riding stepfather, “What happens in Vegas…” showed up. Now frat boys and families who never got the memo wander the over-priced Strip, neither group comfortable with the other’s presence. However, the one aspect of Vegas that has never, nor will never, change is the gratuitous sex – and I was headed into the cleavage of the beast.

The Adult Entertainment Expo is the largest adult entertainment trade convention in the world pulling in just over 22,000 attendees this year. Walking through the Sands Expo towards the large double doors that lead into the convention is like strolling a twisted red carpet. Suits playing hooky from the nearby Consumer Electronics Show line the entryway, snapping pictures of any actresses coming or going from work. It’s all in preparation for the thousands of flashes that are about to greet you.

If it wasn’t for the breasts, you could almost convince yourself that you had wandered into any other convention in the world. Booths create rows in a large hall, bigger companies take up more space, and you can always tell where the free goodies are by the size of the crowd. Endless handouts and PR reps bog you down for hours while you muscle your way through the crowds. Then you turn the corner, only to run face first into a seven-foot bucking penis. Straddled by girls in bikinis, the penis acted as a phallic mechanical bull, thrusting wildly about slamming woman after woman into the ground while the crowd cheered.

Row after row of vibrators, strap-ons, $6000 life-size realistic sex dolls, Obama condoms, bondage gear, and pillows with indentations in them so women with implants can sleep comfortably on their stomachs. It’s enough to make Aphrodite and Adephagia throw up their hands in surrender – and those are just the marital aids. Everywhere breasts accost you. Stars signing autographs, video monitors running through porn, and 40-foot posters proclaiming the release of the latest XXX parody, within five minutes your brain shuts down and tits become almost boring. Granted you don’t want to blink for fear of missing a pair, but even the sight of a gaggle of female porn stars snacking on hot dogs in the cafeteria does nothing for you.

It’s with this blasé attitude that I found myself staring down a wall filled with prosthetic vaginas. I thought back on the Expos of years past. Even as late as 2008, I could recall an Expo that took up two floors and was overflowing with exhibitors, porn stars, fans, and all the free DVDs you could handle. Now, reduced in size, the con felt more like a frivolous celebration of the products than a business convention. The suits that used to pop up throughout the aisles were largely gone and those that remained stuck out like the cheerleader’s father at a college party.

“These will get you rock hard. Last for hours,” a bald salesman for Stiff 4 Hours yelled out at me when I came within ten feet of his booth. “Best there…” He continued before trailing off at the sight of my credentials. “Oh, press.” At the sight of two women walking his way, this time clearly sporting credentials signaling they owned an adult bookstore, his overzealous chrome dome ran after them promising incredible deals if they stocked his product. While some tried to earn a living, most people came for the t ‘n’ a. In addition to the seven-foot mechanical member, AEE also delivered Slick Chix female oil wrestling, a series of naughty stage games for fans, and professional and amateur pole dancing contests. Even with waning attendance over the years, AEE still filled the halls thanks to the overwhelming power of sex.

Casinos have tapped this vein as their latest effort to counter the difficult economic client. On a previous trip to AEE, I stumbled upon an isolated portion of the Mandalay Bay casino called “The Party Pit.” Comprised of a series of gaming tables surrounding a small stage complete with flashing lights, a stripper pole, and, of course, a scantily clad woman dancing to the current Top 40, it mixed the two staples of Nevada: Sex and gambling. Two years later, on a Thursday night I found myself aimlessly wandering Luxor’s empty food court looking for signs of life. At 11 p.m. on a Thursday night, the shops stood closed, most restaurants were locked down, and only a few members of the cleanup crew remained. The casino downstairs, while not barren, was patchy at best. Once-filled seats at Blackjack, now abandoned to stay at home and clip coupons. With one exception: The Luxor’s very own Party Pit surrounded by gamblers and tourists snapping photos. In only a few short years, seemingly every casino on the strip had emulated Mandalay Bay’s mash-up of women and cards. It was easy to see why sex had infiltrated the casinos. Las Vegas, as a gambling town, was stagnant. Just one block off The Strip, rundown motels punctuated For Sale signs sitting atop empty lots that amounted to nothing more than fenced in sections of the desert. Everything about Las Vegas, gambling, big shows, and weddings, had become a cliché in of itself. Losing a fortune on craps because you don’t understand the rules, Wayne Newton, and getting married by Elvis haven’t changed in 50 years. Vegas had to sex them up. The Party Pit, Cirque du Soleil’s naughty Zoomanity, and a wedding reception for two porn stars – even if it was by invite only.

Some salacious version of Lady Luck scored me an invite to Eric John and Vicki Chase wedding reception at the Palazzo’s Sushi Samba. After receiving the approval of a large gentleman named Vinnie the Snakemannn, my friends and I entered to music pounding through the air and a crowd seething around the bride and groom. In the booths, bottles of Grey Goose appeared as if the servers were stocking BevMo’s empty shelves. A few quick searches on our iPhones identified which women in the room we did indeed recognize from our computer screens at home.

“You just touched a Goonie,” my friend yelled. I turned in time to see Corey Feldman disappear behind two bodyguards that put our good friend Vinnie to shame. The presence of Edgar Frog invigorated the party even more and as women started to flash the crowd, the bar began to mirror the same scene I continually came across in Vegas. Wherever there were women acting provocatively, the crowds would appear.

Around 4 a.m. Feldman left the club and, as everyone knows, it’s not a party without a Goonie. Shuffling out of the hotel, we hailed a cab and zoned out in euphoria and exhaustion. Our cab driver tried to overcharge us and I had to threaten to call the cops to get our money back. As he peeled out of the Luxor driveway sending a valet running to the curb, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. If he had had a nice pair of tits, I might have let him keep the money.

Tickler…

In the world of sex toys the old saying, “You get what you pay for,” is universally accurate. The Holy Grail of sexual satisfaction is a high-quality toy that doesn’t break the bank, and the new Tickler line of vibrators would lure Percival and Galahad themselves. Ticklers combine durability and playfulness to create whimsical little creatures that should earn the honor of your “go-to vibrator.” Roughly six inches long, they’re waterproof, phthalate-free and feature a one-speed vibration housed at the base of the toy. However, the real fun lies at the tips, each with varying designs that offer different sets of sensations. If you enjoy powerful clitoral stimulation, the purple, black and yellow Cute, Rebel and Sunny toys, respectively, offer strong vibration at a centralized point. The blue and pink Mystic and Bunny Ticklers provide slightly weaker, but more enveloping, stimulation to the clitoris. The pink Bunny is an exceptional toy that re-creates the $90 ears of the popular Rabbit vibe with an additional tapered wedge to ride when things get hoppin’. Forget the usual “My First Vibrator”—ten dollars of cheap plastic—and save up for this $40 heavenly vessel. www.ticklervibes.com.

No thanks for the mammaries…

“We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold … ”

And thank God for that. My back had been killing me since I boarded the plane for Las Vegas, and I was not looking forward to lugging my bags around without an anti-inflammatory. I was heading to Sin City for the recent AVN Adult Entertainment Expo, and my bags only faintly resembled the luggage Hunter S. Thompson and Oscar Zeta Acosta felt necessary to take with them in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. My tame bag of drugs included 48 ibuprofen, 16 chewable Pepto-Bismol tablets, half a bottle of Tums and eight caps of DayQuil—all stuffed into a Ziploc emblazoned with Spider-Man’s mug.

Still, I felt prepared. The Vegas of today isn’t Thompson’s Vegas of 1971. Hell, it’s not even the Vegas of a decade ago. The family-friendly Vegas pushed on us a few years back ended in a broken marriage and, sure enough, the Harley-riding stepfather, “What happens in Vegas …” showed up. Now frat boys and families who never got the memo wander the overpriced Strip, neither group comfortable with the other’s presence.

The Adult Entertainment Expo is the largest adult-entertainment trade convention in the world, pulling in more than 22,000 attendees this year. Walking through the Sands Expo toward the large double doors that led into the convention was like strolling a twisted red carpet. Suits playing hooky from the nearby Consumer Electronics Show lined the entryway, snapping pictures of any actresses coming or going from work.

If it wasn’t for the breasts, I could almost convince myself that I had wandered into any other convention in the world. Booths created rows in a large hall, bigger companies took up more space, and I could always tell where the free goodies were by the size of the crowd.

Then I turned a corner and ran face-first into a 7-foot bucking penis. Straddled by girls in bikinis, the penis acted as a phallic mechanical bull, thrusting wildly and slamming woman after woman into the ground while the crowd cheered.

There were rows of vibrators, strap-ons, $6,000 life-size realistic sex dolls, Obama condoms, bondage gear and pillows with indentations in them so women with implants can sleep comfortably on their stomachs. Everywhere breasts accosted me. Stars signed autographs, video monitors ran porn and 40-foot posters proclaimed the release of the latest XXX parody. Within five minutes, my brain shut down, and tits became almost boring. Granted, I didn’t want to blink for fear of missing a pair, but even the sight of a gaggle of female porn stars snacking on hot dogs in the cafeteria did nothing for me.

“These will get you rock hard. Last for hours,” a bald salesman for Stiff 4 Hours yelled out at me when I came within 10 feet of his booth. “Best there …” He continued before trailing off at the sight of my credentials. “Oh, press.”

While some tried to earn a living, most people came for the T ’n’ A. In addition to the 7-foot mechanical member, AEE also delivered Slick Chix female oil wrestling, a series of naughty stage games for fans, and professional and amateur pole-dancing contests. Even with waning attendance over the years, AEE still filled the halls, thanks to the overwhelming power of sex.

Casinos have tapped this vein as their latest effort to counter the difficult economic climate. On a previous trip to AEE, I stumbled upon an isolated portion of the Mandalay Bay casino called “The Party Pit.” Consisting of a series of gaming tables surrounding a small stage complete with flashing lights, a stripper pole and, of course, a scantily clad woman dancing to the current Top 40, it mixed the two staples of Nevada: sex and gambling.

This time, two years later, on a Thursday night, I found myself aimlessly wandering Luxor’s empty food court looking for signs of life. At 11 p.m. on a Thursday night, the shops stood closed, most restaurants were locked down and only a few members of the cleanup crew remained. The casino downstairs, while not barren, was patchy at best, with one exception: the Luxor’s very own Party Pit surrounded by gamblers and tourists snapping photos. In only a few short years, seemingly every casino on the strip had emulated Mandalay Bay’s mash-up of women and cards.

It was easy to see why sex had infiltrated the casinos. Las Vegas, as a gambling town, was stagnant. Just one block off the Strip, rundown motels punctuated for-sale signs sitting atop empty lots that amounted to nothing more than fenced-in sections of the desert. Everything about Las Vegas—gambling, big shows and weddings—had become a cliché of itself. Vegas had to sex them up.

Sex and Loathing in Las Vegas…

“We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold …”

And thank god for that. My back had been killing me since I boarded the plane for Las Vegas, and I was not looking forward to lugging my bags around without an anti-inflammatory. I was heading to Sin City for the Adult Entertainment Expo, and my bags only faintly resembled the luggage Hunter S. Thompson and Oscar Zeta Acosta felt necessary to take with them in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. My tame bag of drugs included 48 Ibuprofen, 16 chewable Pepto-Bismol tablets, half a bottle of Tums, and eight caps of Dayquil—all stuffed into a Ziploc emblazoned with Spider-Man’s mug.

Still, I felt prepared. The Vegas of today isn’t Thompson’s Vegas of 1971. Hell, it’s not even the Vegas of a decade ago. The family-friendly Vegas pushed on us a few years back ended in a broken marriage and sure enough the Harley-riding stepfather, “What happens in Vegas …” showed up. Now frat boys and families who never got the memo wander the over-priced Strip, neither group comfortable with the other’s presence. However, the one aspect of Vegas that has never, will never, change is the gratuitous sex—and I was headed into the cleavage of the beast.

Conventional wisdom

The Adult Entertainment Expo is the largest adult entertainment trade convention in the world, pulling in just over 22,000 attendees this year. Walking through the Sands Expo toward the large double doors that led into the convention was like strolling a twisted red carpet. Suits playing hooky from the nearby Consumer Electronics Show lined the entryway, snapping pictures of any actresses coming or going from work. It’s all in preparation for the thousands of flashes that were about to greet me.

If it wasn’t for the breasts, I could almost convince myself that I had wandered into any other convention in the world. Booths created rows in a large hall, bigger companies took up more space, and I could always tell where the free goodies were by the size of the crowd. Endless handouts and PR reps bogged me down for hours while I muscled my way through the crowds. Then I turned a corner, only to run face-first into a seven-foot bucking penis. Straddled by girls in bikinis, the penis acted as a phallic mechanical bull, thrusting wildly, and slamming woman after woman into the ground while the crowd cheered.

Rows of vibrators, strap-ons, $6,000 life-size realistic sex dolls, Obama condoms, bondage gear andpillows with indentations in them so women with implants can sleep comfortably on their stomachs—it was enough to make Aphrodite and Adephagia throw up their hands in surrender.

Everywhere, breasts accosted me. Stars signed autographs, video monitors ran porn, and 40-foot posters proclaimed the release of the latest XXX parody. Within five minutes, my brain shut down, and tits became almost boring. Granted I didn’t want to blink for fear of missing a pair, but even the sight of a gaggle of female porn stars snacking on hot dogs in the cafeteria did nothing for me.

It’s with this blasé attitude that I found myself staring down a wall filled with prosthetic vaginas. I thought back on the Expos of years past. Even as late as 2008, I could recall an Expo that took up two floors and was overflowing with exhibitors, porn stars, fans and all the free DVDs one could handle. Now, reduced in size, the convention felt more like a frivolous celebration of the products than a business convention. The suits that used to pop up throughout the aisles were largely gone, and those that remained stuck out like the cheerleader’s father at a college party.

“These will get you rock hard. Last for hours,” a bald salesman for Stiff 4 Hours yelled out at me when I came within 10 feet of his booth. “Best there …” He continued before trailing off at the sight of my credentials. “Oh, press.”

At the sight of two women walking his way, this time clearly sporting credentials signaling they owned an adult bookstore, he ran after them promising incredible deals if they stocked his product. While some tried to earn a living, most people came for the T ’n’ A. In addition to the seven-foot mechanical member, AEE also delivered Slick Chix female oil wrestling, a series of naughty stage games for fans, and professional and amateur pole-dancing contests. Even with waning attendance over the years, AEE still filled the halls thanks to the overwhelming power of sex.

Casino royale with cheese

Casinos have tapped this vein as their latest effort to counter the difficult economic climate. On a previous trip to AEE, I stumbled upon an isolated portion of the Mandalay Bay casino called “The Party Pit.” Comprised of a series of gaming tables surrounding a small stage complete with flashing lights, a stripper pole, and, of course, a scantily clad woman dancing to the current Top 40, it mixed the two staples of Nevada: Sex and gambling.

This time, two years later, on a Thursday night, I found myself aimlessly wandering Luxor’s empty food court looking for signs of life. At 11 p.m. on a Thursday night, the shops stood closed, most restaurants were locked down, and only a few members of the cleanup crew remained. The casino downstairs, while not barren, was patchy at best. With one exception: The Luxor’s very own Party Pit surrounded by gamblers and tourists snapping photos. In only a few short years, seemingly every casino on the strip had emulated Mandalay Bay’s mash-up of women and cards.

It was easy to see why sex had infiltrated the casinos. Las Vegas, as a gambling town, was stagnant. Just one block off The Strip, rundown motels punctuated For Sale signs sitting atop empty lots that amounted to nothing more than fenced-in sections of the desert. Everything about Las Vegas—gambling, big shows and weddings—had become a cliché of itself. Losing a fortune on craps because you don’t understand the rules, Wayne Newton, and getting married by Elvis haven’t changed in 50 years. Vegas had to sex them up: The Party Pit, Cirque du Soleil’s naughty Zoomanity, and a wedding reception for two porn stars—even if it was by invite only.

Some salacious version of Lady Luck scored some friends and me an invite to the Eric John and Vicki Chase wedding reception at the Palazzo’s Sushi Samba. After receiving the approval of a large gentleman named Vinnie the Snakemannn, we entered to music pounding through the air and a crowd seething around the bride and groom. In the booths, bottles of Grey Goose appeared as though the servers were stocking BevMo’s empty shelves. A few quick searches on our iPhones identified which women in the room we did indeed recognize from our computer screens at home.

“You just touched a Goonie,” my friend Jess Parker yelled. I turned in time to see Corey Feldman disappear behind two bodyguards that put our doorman friend Vinnie to shame. The presence of Edgar Frog invigorated the party even more and as women started to flash the crowd, the bar began to mirror the same scene I continually came across in Vegas. Wherever there were women acting provocatively, the crowds would appear.

Around 4 a.m., Feldman left the club and, as everyone knows, it’s not a party without a Goonie. Shuffling out of the hotel, we hailed a cab and zoned out in euphoria and exhaustion. Our cab driver tried to overcharge us and I had to threaten to call the cops to get our money back. As he peeled out of the Luxor driveway sending a valet running to the curb, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. If he’d had a nice pair of tits, I might have let him keep the money.

Butting up Against the Porn Industry…

Businessmen lined the entrance to the Adult Entertainment Expo, eagerly anticipating a glimpse of the porn stars wandering to and fro. Their joy, a perverted hybrid of Hollywood red carpet and fifth-grade boys impatiently waiting for Susie to swing above them across the monkey bars, beamed from their eyes. While these gawkers — mostly attendees of the neighboring Consumer Electronics Show — milled about outside, Adult Expo insiders nonchalantly entered a world of pornographic proportions. Waiting for autographs from women they last saw in Bound or Accidental Hookers, fans snaked past men and women in cages, displays of dildos, loads of lube, and countless LCD screens in continual XXX loops. Against this backdrop, the Berkeley book publisher Amorata Press stuck out like clever dialogue in a porn film. No booth babes or freakishly large body parts filled its 100-square-foot plot on the convention floor. While this first-time exhibitor of how-to sex manuals might seem risqué if encountered in a Barnes & Noble bookstore, here it was a quiet relief from an over-stimulating industry.

Acting as a breath of fresh air to an often-excessive industry wasn’t the original goal of Amorata Press. When Ulysses Press published its first sex-themed book in November 2001, the company hadn’t imagined starting a separate division of the company that dealt exclusively in carnal pleasures. Demand from a niche market was what prompted Ulysses Press to publish its first sex book. When that first book did well, the company followed up with another and another.

“We did one book, then two, then four, and then 25,” recalled company sales and marketing manager Bryce Willett, during an early January interview at the Expo. “Eventually it made sense to distinguish the titles, give them a name in the industry.” The Amorata Press imprint, which was created in the fall of 2006, brought all these titles together under one roof. Now, with a catalog of almost thirty titles, the publisher seeks to offer men and women “a path to higher pleasure with books that are informative, sexy, and edgy.” Filled with provocative tips and tantalizing photos — enough to keep both men and women happy as they flip through the pages looking for sparks of inspiration — the motives of Amorata Press seemed almost wholesome beside the tits-and-ass-ambience of the Adult Expo.

The company’s presence at the expo was like some perverted scene from Mister Smith Goes to Washington. Surrounded by smut peddlers, sex workers, and fans gobbling the whole scene up, Amorata Press seemed to be calling out the wayward Mr. Paines of the world. A pile of books sat stacked on a small table in front of a humble banner hung against the cloth backdrop of the Amorata Press booth. Willett, a tall man with a shaved head and earrings, sat back in his chair or casually talked up interested visitors to the booth. Although the people who attend the expo aren’t really his target audience, that didn’t faze him one bit. “Those films have wonderful scenes, but don’t try it at home,” Willett said. “They’re great positions to photograph, but not enjoyable ones.”

Punctuating his comments were the repetitive sounds of a neighboring booth where free vibrators were being awarded to any girl who blew up a balloon until it popped. The occasional explosions were like bullet points for Willett’s thoughts. “Porn does a great job, but that job is not to make you better at sex, its goal is to be fun to watch.” POP! “The core idea of the Adult Entertainment Expo is fan worship of porn stars. The long lines at the big booths are for that. However, that only lasts so long. Everyone can have sex without a book, but it’s not necessarily good sex. Empowerment is at the core of all of our books. Half of it is about being comfortable, knowledgeable, and secure.”

One chief difference between Amorata’s books and much of the porn on the convention floor was that Willett’s target audience is couples, not single males. So where the publisher’s exploration of female ejaculation is simply entitled Female Ejaculation, pornography from that genre bares titles such as MILF Squirters 2. Book titles like Unleashing Her G-Spot Orgasm, Going Down, and The Best Sex You’ll Ever Have! seemed tame next to the DVDs circulating the rest of the convention floor.

Willett didn’t claim the moral high road or suggest that his company is socially more responsible than the producers of teen gangbang videos or the P.S.I. (Porn Scene Investigator) team with the sign reading “Flashing welcome” in the booth next to him. Still, one couldn’t help but notice the differences between each side’s tone, approach, intention, and attitude toward sex in general and women in particular.

But perhaps Amorata seems mild mannered only next to the supermen of pornography. Indeed, the niche market for the company’s books has been fed by the pornography industry. After all, the Adult Film Database lists female ejaculation titles dating back to 1989, while Amorata Press’ book on the subject first hit shelves in 2008. Did public interest in female ejaculation create the pornography, or did the pornography create the public interest?

In their book, The Porning of America, Carmine Sarracino and Kevin M. Scott argue that pornography and American culture have influenced each other so much that imitation has become the standard. In essence, pornography has become the norm and the norm has become pornographic. If this is true, (and anyone who has watched fifteen minutes of reality television must concede that the argument holds some weight) then the porn industry and Amorata Press are born from, and serve, the same master — providing men and women with sexual satisfaction and encouraging an exploration of sexual fantasies. Yet, at the end of the day when you go home to your partner, adult films are celluloid propaganda, and Amorata Press is the real deal.

Same sex honeymooners…

When the California Supreme Court decided that same-sex couples had the same right to marry as anyone and that any law discriminating against someone because of their sexual orientation would be unconstitutional, they didn’t just change California—they changed America. That might seem like a bold statement, especially since California wasn’t the first state to legalize gay marriage, but, for the first time, a state’s court ruling didn’t carry any residency requirements. So anyone from the United States can travel to California and return home a legally married couple.

Some people view gay marriage as a step forward and an opportunity, not just for couples who have been waiting to get married for years or for social change and equality, but for a new business demographic. Suddenly, there is a demand for gay wedding cakes, gay china patterns and, of course, gay honeymoons.

All-gay cruises and vacation resorts are not a new concept. Atlantis Events has been giving new meaning to the term “queen sized bed” since 1991, but gay honeymooners need to add a rightfully romantic air to what has generally been viewed as excuses for extravagant, shirtless beach parties. Recognizing the need for gay honeymoons in the market, California bed and breakfasts have begun to assemble wedding and honeymoon packages specifically for homosexual couples. Some of the packages are lazy attempts to cash in on the market. The one at Hope-Merrill Bed and Breakfast in Sonoma County, for example, just takes the normal honeymoon package and places the word “gay” in front of it. But most seem to celebrate this monumental decision in California.

Locally, however, the trend hasn’t caught on. Though it may not necessarily be a reflection of anyone’s views on the hot political issue, it may just be an issue of basic economics. While Vicki Dame, owner of Travel Unlimited, says they don’t have anything specific set up for gay honeymooners, it is something they can and will do. “I think we just need to get the word out that we can do it. We haven’t had people come in looking for it, but if they knew we could do it, I think they would. … Some gay couples may be apprehensive about going to places where they don’t know if they’ll get funny looks or not. If they knew we have the ability to send them to places that are used to [homosexual couples] and are familiar with that, they would be much more comfortable.”

The local travel agency uses a company called ZipToGayTravel.com to arrange accommodations for someone looking for “gay-friendly” cruises, airlines and resorts. For ZipToGay, the term gay-friendly refers to the attitude and approach of the staff and general clientele. As defined on their website, gay-friendly is a “property which is open to actively welcoming gay and lesbian vacationers and extending the same service levels, courtesies and professionalism as they extend to all other visitors.” It turns out gay-friendly means common decency.

In the end, a gay honeymoon is not defined by a set of activities or a destination. “It depends on what the client wants, where the client wants to go,” Dame said in a recent phone interview. Brunch in Brussels, dinner on the Danube or the classic nights at Niagara Falls, a honeymoon can fit the couple. What’s important is that now, the marriage can, too.

Cedar street blue…

A hop, skip and a jump away from the central branch of the Santa Cruz Library, the soon-to-be-open Pure Pleasure storefront has begun raising eyebrows, among other things. Counting Luscious, Camouflage and Frenchy’s Cruzin Books and Video, Pure Pleasure’s arrival makes the fourth adult store in less than a 5-mile radius. But Nūz wonders if Pure Pleasure offers something that whets our sexual appetite like none other, or is it sexual overkill?

Luscious has you covered when it comes to lingerie, Camouflage ups the ante by adding sex toys, condoms and lube, while Frenchy’s pours on the porn. Pure Pleasure co-owner Amy Baldwin promises something more.

“We’re very selective about what we’ll sell to our customers. We’re an upscale shop that sells high quality products. … We won’t sell any toys that are made with phthalates, we’ll only sell nontoxic toys,” said Baldwin.

“Phthalates”? Now that’s a mouthful, even for a sex toy. Pronounced “thal-ates,” these chemicals act as softeners in beaucoup plastic items, including dildos, and they’re thought to be toxic. Pure Pleasure is taking no chances with your special parts.

Baldwin describes Pure Pleasure as the only store in town that can call itself sex-positive. “We don’t discriminate against any gender or sexual preferences. The store is welcoming, nonjudgmental and has something for everyone. The whole idea is all consensual sex is good sex.”

And what do the neighbors think of a sex shop moving in next door?

There have been some concerned citizens, Baldwin says. While the overwhelming majority is excited, Baldwin says about 10 percent of people are concerned over the placement of the store next to the library. “They say, ‘I can’t believe you’re next to the library! What about the kids?’ But we’re going to have frosted windows and kids can’t see in or walk in. [Our storefront] doesn’t say sex anywhere. … There’s no way a child walking by is going to be harmed by our store.”

Such a family-friendly attitude may seem odd for a sex shop, but the description is truer than you may think. Baldwin co-owns the store with her mother, Janis Baldwin, and her mother’s fiance, Robert Dayton. “People think it’s creepy or weird, but it’s really not,” Amy explained.

Pure Pleasure seems an appealing option for those who find Luscious or Camouflage too mellow and Frenchy’s too wild, but only the grand opening this Friday will reveal if the hype satisfies Nūz. Till then, we’ll just have to use our imagination.

Glove love is still the best love…

It’s undeniable: the emotional, physical and psychological satisfactions from sex are beyond compare with almost every other activity we share with another person. The problem is nature has a way of balancing things out. For every pleasure, there is a pain.A recent study by the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) proclaimed that roughly one in four adolescent women in the United States has a sexually transmitted infection (STI). Of the 838 women ages 14-19 surveyed, 26 percent had one or more common STIs, including, but not limited to, human papillomavirus (HPV), chlamydia and trichomoniasis. While these numbers have been widely reported by the media, how do they hold up in our own back yard?

Census figures show that as of 2006 there were 10,386 women between the ages of 15 and 19 living in Santa Cruz County. Using the CDC’s “one in four” theory, one could surmise that roughly 2,600 of them have an STI.

In fact, the numbers appear to be much lower than that–although health officials caution that it may be more a matter of underreporting than of having a healthier-than-average populace.

California law requires every health care provider to report cases of certain communicable diseases to the county. Santa Cruz County’s 2006 STD data report, released in May 2007, shows 134 cases of chlamydia, 10 cases of gonorrhea and no cases of syphilis reported for females between the ages of 15 and 19. That’s a grand total of 144–a far cry from 2,600.

However, the data sets are nowhere near comparable. The age ranges are slightly different (15 to 19 for the Santa Cruz figures, 14 to 19 for the CDC figures). More importantly, the CDC and the county gathered information on different diseases. Santa Cruz County does not collect trichomoniasis and HPV statistics because they aren’t required by state law; syphilis was not included in the CDC study. Neither collects figures on HIV.

Paula Haller, STD Controller for Santa Cruz County, says experts just assume the number of reported cases represents a fraction of the reality.

“So many people have an STD, but we just don’t know about them. If you look at our 2006 number, some people think you could multiply that by four and get the accurate number of people who have [STIs] in Santa Cruz County. … A lot of people aren’t aware of the urine test [used by the county], so they’re afraid it’s an invasive test. Some people aren’t aware of the confidentiality, or some providers don’t ask the right question. There are a lot of reasons that people don’t get tested.”

One of the biggest advantages of the CDC study is that it randomly selected a cross-section of young women and initiated both a questionnaire and medical exam, so people who were either unaware of an infection or unwilling to get tested were covered in the results.

Haller believes what’s important to take away from the CDC’s one-in-four finding is not fear but an understanding that STI screening should be a vital aspect of health care. Still, it’s hard to not be scared by the numbers. Perhaps solace can be found in the fact that an STI is an infection, and as such there are ways to prevent and combat it. And you’re not in the fight alone. For over 90 years, Planned Parenthood has provided a comprehensive approach to sexual health.

“For us, we’re concerned about teen safety and making sure we can provide the tools available so that young people can make good judgment calls about sexual activity and being safe,” explains Buu Thai. As public affairs director of Planned Parenthood Mar Monte Coastal Region, Thai believes information and testing are the best tools to fight the spread of STIs.

“When we go to a school, or in our clinics, we advocate comprehensive sex education–age-appropriate and medically accurate information. I know there have been other reports about abstinence-only, and we feel that abstinence-only is only one aspect, and it’s not going to deter young people from having sex. So we err on the side of providing the comprehensive picture.” In any given year, the Westside Planned Parenthood will see approximately 22,000 to 25,000 patients. “We talk to them about symptoms and provide visuals as a way of education, not as a scare tactic but to let them know what the symptoms are.”

Even with education and precautions, it’s still possible to contract an STI. Planned Parenthood and health care providers can offer not only education and testing but treatment for patients with an STI. In California it’s also legal for a health care provider to issue partner-delivered treatment, meaning a clinician can write a prescription for a patient’s partner. Another tool, Inspot.com, is designed to electronically and anonymously allow you to notify any past bed mates if you’ve tested positive for an STI.

STIs continue to be a major factor in our sex lives. Luckily there are just as many organizations out there with resources to help people play safe. Nature is an equalizer, but it isn’t malevolent in its design.

One hot mama…

The first picture of a naked woman I ever saw was Demi Moore on the cover of the August 1991 issue of Vanity Fair magazine. She was posing seven months pregnant. As a 10-year-old, I didn’t understand why there was a picture of a naked, pregnant woman on the magazine—but I knew I liked it.

Seventeen whole years later, pregnancy and sexuality still maintain an uneasy relationship in our society. Tabloids are filled with candid snapshots of swollen celebrities walking around in bikinis, but the MILF craze still doesn’t quite include mothers-to-be. Are we afraid of hurting the baby? Or is it simply the fact that we never expect to find the expecting sexually attractive?

How many sitcoms have featured a pre-sex, nervous husband muttering, “I’m afraid I’ll dent the baby’s head”? But is this a real danger?

“Concerns of injury to the fetus are comical to me, but couples have to do whatever is comfortable for them,” says Dr. Peter DeKay, an obstetrician/gynecologist at Alpine Women’s Health in Reno. “As long as a patient is not at risk for pre-term labor or miscarriage, sex is certainly safe. All in all, the majority of people are at very low risk during intercourse throughout the entire course of pregnancy.”

DeKay stresses that comfort is the key factor for a couple to enjoy sex. “Many women enjoy sex throughout pregnancy. It’s a way for them to feel in touch with their bodies, and it’s a way for them to relieve stress, which is very important. At the same time, hormone levels are at an all-time high. They have body and weight changes that are uncomfortable, their bodies can feel out of control, and the last thing they want to do is be intimate. And if that’s the case, the important thing is that there is more to a relationship than sex. A little bit of understanding on both sides is crucial.”

With sex during pregnancy deemed safe, where do we turn to see pregnant women depicted as sexually attractive? Pornography, of course. Mainstream media may be hesitant to explore a pregnant woman’s sexuality, but the adult entertainment industry takes a different stance. SugarDVD, an online adult rental site, lists 208 pregnant-themed DVDs, and January saw two pregnant titles enter Adult Video News’ Top 75 Specialty DVD Sales chart. It appears that even though it might not be overt, a portion of our society finds the curvy, pregnant female form to be as erotic and enticing as their skinny supermodel counterparts.

Why are men attracted to pregnant women? The answer is as uniquely specific as the reason why any man is attracted to any woman. Rounder hips and fuller breasts could play a part. Or perhaps it’s because there is nothing more decidedly restricted to women than pregnancy—the allure of something that a man will never know.

Regardless of the reasons, there is no denying that sexuality does not stop at conception. Not only does pregnancy not mean a delay in sexual activity, it could also mean an exploration into a completely different facet of eroticism in a couple’s relationship.

“The bottom line is sex is a healthy part of any relationship, and it’s a healthy part of pregnancy, as well,” says Dr. DeKay.

Still don’t believe that pregnancy can be sexy? Check out that Vanity Fair cover.

One in four?…

The anticipation. Flesh against flesh. A soft cheek, hard stubble. Sweat and grunting and a final

Photo by Erik Stabile

orgasmic release. The emotional, physical, and psychological satisfactions obtained from sex are incomparable to any other activity we share with another person. But nature has a way of balancing things out; for every pleasure, there is pain: thus, the sexually transmitted infection (STI).

A recent study by the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) proclaimed that roughly one-in-four adolescent women in the United States has a STI. The study examined 838 women ages 14 to 19 and found that 26 percent had one or more common STI. The infections included, but were not limited to, human papillomavirus (HPV), chlamydia, and trichomoniasis. These numbers have been widely reported by the media. The New York Times, for example, ran the headline “Sex Infections Found in Quarter of Teenage Girls.” But do these statistics apply to Washoe County?

The U.S. Census Bureau’s American FactFinder reports that, as of 2006, there were 12,495 women between the ages of 15 and 19 living in Washoe County. Using the CDC’s “one in four” theory, approximately 3,124 of these residents would have an STI.

Since every positive test of an STI must be reported to the county health department, the CDC’s theory can be tested. In their “2006 Annual Communicable Disease Summary,” the Washoe County District Health Department compiled information on reported cases of chlamydia, gonorrhea, and syphilis. Amongst adolescent women ages 15 to 19, there were 291 cases of chlamydia, 36 cases of gonorrhea, and no reported cases of syphilis. These numbers suggest only a 2.6 percent rate of infection in Washoe County, though this excludes many STIs, including HPV—the most prevalent infection in the CDC study.

The comparison between the CDC study and the Washoe County report is inexact. Jennifer Howell, Sexual Health Program Coordinator for Washoe County, explains that the differences are in the process of collecting the data. “We’re given information on the client and the positive test, and we work with health care providers or clinics to make sure they get appropriate treatment. The reported diseases are chlamydia, syphilis, and gonorrhea … we don’t know the real prevalence of HPV, trichomoniasis or herpes because they’re not reported.”

The CDC used a random sampling to collect their data—selecting people from across the nation to fill out a survey—so, unlike the Washoe County study, their data includes cases that might have gone unreported. But the CDC only sampled 838 women between the ages of 14 to 19. Since the study did not include 13-year-olds, about 14 percent of teenagers are not even represented by the statistic. (And the youngest, of course, are least likely to be sexually active, which would further invalidate the results.) And even with carefully balanced racial, geographic and economic demographics, is 838 women a large enough sample to represent the 10 million adolescent women in the United States?

Even if the “one in four” statistic is not accurate, there is one undeniable conclusion: STIs continue to be a major factor in our sex lives. But there are ways of combating them. In addition to contraceptives, Planned Parenthood offers screenings and treatment for STIs.

“We screen for chlamydia, gonorrhea, trichomoniasis, HPV, and HIV… if we find something, we want to make sure the person has their healthcare needs met,” says the Public Affairs Director for Planned Parenthood in Northern Nevada, Patty Elvy.

“One in four” is a scary statistic that looks good in a headline. But regardless of the accuracy of these figures, the concept remains the same: keep informed and keep safe.