As reporters and editors, we at Gizmodo like to investigate stuff and ask questions. But there comes a time when you’re beat and have to reach out for help.
That’s why we’re coming to you, our readers, with a question we haven’t been able to answer despite weeks of probing.
Did you have sex at Gizmodo’s Star Trek book party?
Because someone had sex at Gizmodo’s Star Trek book party.
Was it you?
Did a discussion on what we can learn about the future economy from Star Trek make you all tingly?
Did you turn the mostly sanitary Gawker Media offices into a splooge-caked sex dungeon where even men risk pregnancy just by sitting on the furniture?
The night of June 13, 2016 started innocently enough. A medium-sized crowd had gathered at Gawker Media HQ to celebrate the launch of Manu Saadia’s book Trekonomics: The Economics of Star Trek, which was being released on Felix Salmon’s imprint, Pipertext. It was a lovely evening. There were snacks, wine, domestic and imported beers. Saadia spoke eloquently on his tome, which reviewers call “a fanciful romp through the economic theories that underpin Final Frontier life in the mid-22nd through late-24th centuries.”
Romp indeed. This shit is catnip.
It wasn’t until almost all of the guests had left that Gawker Media’s Victor Jeffreys II realized some shenanigans were afoot. As the last security guard left, she told Victor she suspected there was still someone in the second floor’s female toilets. Victor walked over, heard some rustling going on inside and knocked. The rustling stopped.
Two minutes went by. Then five. Then ten. Nothing. Then more rustling. The office was empty and the party was over. Time to go.
But Victor wasn’t about to go barging in. Luckily, Jezebel’s Julianne Escobedo-Shepherd was still hard at work upstairs and Victor tapped her to give the errant guest a nudge. “I dip my head in and there’s obviously someone in the first stall,” Julianne told me. “I hear a little shuffling. I’m like ‘Hey ma’am sorry but we have to get everyone out of here’. She’s like ‘Ok, just a minute.’”
More shuffling. Five minutes go by. Victor and Julianne retire around the corner to give the guest some privacy and they hear the the bathroom door close. The long dark-haired woman is followed by a taller man with short-cropped hair. They’re grabby, re-arranging themselves, “Canoodling,” as Julianne describes it. Giggling and apologetic, they stop to take a selfie in Gawker’s lobby, then continued walking down the stairs, only to stop for a mid-flight face-suck. Not that Julianne and Victor looked, they assure me. They could hear everything.
And that’s all we know.
Was it you?