Finally, with a scream of frenzied rapture, a cry of pure, sheer ecstasy, a paean of primitive pleasure, Tarita reached her moment of moments. She fell back and Nick lay half atop her in delicious exhaustion, his head against the soft, sweet roundness of her breast. Somewhere a macaw cried out, a squirrel scurried through the trees and the water flowed down over them.

1969.