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An Interview with Miss Behavin


An Interview with Miss Behavin'

Copyright 1999, John Jameson. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction and all characters and events are drawn from
the author's fevered imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or
dead, is unintentional. If you think you recognize yourself here, it's
no doubt a matter of projection on your own part. (Unless, of course,
you happen to be female, are not offended by what you read, and find
middle-aged would-be authors of erotica irresistible. But we'll save
that discussion for some other time.)

Please do not reproduce this work in any form without the express
consent of the author. You may contact me at
If you are offended by explicit depictions of human sexuality, you may
want to look elsewhere for entertainment (after consulting a competent
therapist). If it is illegal for you to read such materials due to age,
local laws or other considerations (and you know who you are, so let's
not kid each other), then please go no further. Not that I can stop
you, but at least my conscience is clear now.

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 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 - 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

"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

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

"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.

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

"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 decolletage 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

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.

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

[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]


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