"I gotta make this fast," she said. "Carson's around somewhere. Something's been happening. Something I don't like. Look, there's a little joint across the street where we go when we want to grab a cup of coffee. Meet me there in a couple of minutes. It'll take me only that long to slip on something and get across there. She stripped off the white bathrobe and flung it across a chair, turning to give Morocco the full benefit of the rounded, taut breasts, the belly as smooth and satiny as polished marble, the long shapely thighs and lyrical angle of hips. "I show this to a lot of creeps three times a night and I could puke. But you I like."

1957.