When Shrayber read a column in Cosmo suggesting a sex picnic, he immediately turned to a favorite (undisclosed) pizzeria to supply the aphrodisiac.
As any good journalist would be, Shrayber was well prepared. He writes,
For Shrayber’s tryst, he went high end and sauce-less, with a $25 white pie (so the sheets wouldn’t get stained). He and his partner eschewed music, proving the old Chapelle truism that for white people, the best bedroom slow jam is the sound of breathing. He lit unscented candles, recognizing that the sensual odor of pizza needs no competition from French Vanilla or Gardenia.
As for the actual “pizza-as-sex-toy” act, the concept seemed to work best when each partner fed a slice to the other. Notions of pizza-related dirty talk or intercourse were quickly—and perhaps wisely—abandoned.
Shrayber cautions that Pizza Sex will necessitate a change in sheets. He also recommends a calzone, if you find yourself wanting for a willing partner.