“Okay, I’ll move in,” I told the boys. “So let’s go over to Carmen’s and get my belongings.”

When the boys brought me back with my luggage, which had increased since I arrived in Puerto Rico, they went to their own room to freshen and relax, and I went to mine down the hall to unpack.

Half an hour later I went to their room, which was very big and had several single beds in it, and I found them all fresh out of the shower with towels around them, all except David, who was walking around naked, proving my theory about big noses.

There was the smell of grass in the room, and they were lazily smoking, and the sound of rock music was roaring in the background, and soon somebody suggested we have an orgy to celebrate my arrival.

Nobody needed much persuasion, and pretty soon we were all stripped naked, tangled on the floor between the beds sucking, fucking, blowing, laughing, and climaxing. It was an unbelievably beautiful scene. Our bodies were hot and perspiring because there was no air-conditioning in their room, so we showered and did it all again.

Caught up in the abandon of the whole scene, I forgot my resolution never to allow compromising photos to be taken of me.

We took out the Polaroid camera to make some pictures, one of which was an absolute masterpiece. The Tourist Bureau should have used it on a scene card. It was a picture of me wearing David’s Spanish matador hat, sitting on his cock on the floor while Ricky was standing on my right getting a blow-job and, Brian to my left getting a hand-job.

Hood, the one who took the pictures, had never been in a group scene before, and he was so bashful he could not get it up, so I had to fuck him privately in my room later on.

As we jumped around and carried on, I started to get a sneaking feeling that somehow we were being watched. Nobody else seemed to notice, but they were so whacked out of their heads on grass that they couldn’t care less if we were on Candid Camera.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling there was someone observing our scene, and as I looked toward the window that led onto the veranda, I saw the venetian-blind slats almost imperceptibly move.

Without being obvious and not saying a word, I casually climbed off David’s cock and walked to the bureau under the window, pretending to get something in a drawer.

When my hand was out of eye range, I took hold of the blind cord and yanked it open, and there, staring me in the face, were the startled eyes of the landlady’s forty-five-year-old spinster daughter. Her peroxide-blond hair was all matted in the perspiration on her forehead and she was blushing and flushing and was very embarrassed indeed.

“Madam,” I said to her, “would you please keep your nose out of private parties unless you are invited? Furthermore, I would be grateful if you do not shock the sweet old landlady by telling her what you have seen.”

Without saying a word, she hurried away along the veranda, and we all cracked up laughing. And that, more or less, was the reckless tone of my next few weeks with the band of vagabonds.

The boys were on “extended” vacation in Puerto Rico, living the best way they could, which was not always something their parents would approve of if they knew. They were all law-school graduates, except David, the dropout, who was a larcenist by nature and the biggest, horniest fuck of all.

But Hood was the one I liked the best emotionally. He was sensitive, intelligent, and from an aristocratic New Jersey family. Together we all lived like beach bums, wildly and sometimes childishly, but it was a good balance for the work I was doing twice daily.

In the mornings we would all go to the beach, pinch some chairs, fool around, then around four P.M. I would leave for my afternoon’s business and join the boys back at the house later for a relaxing orgy and a siesta.

If the landlady’s nosy daughter was still interested in our activities, she no longer showed it, and always made a point of darting out of sight whenever my band of “freak hippies” walked by.

However, one morning when I broke our regular routine of being absent from the house all day and ducked back to pick up my suntan lotion, I discovered that I was wrong.

As I climbed the wooden stairs, I could see the sandaled feet of the spinster daughter standing motionless beside my bed. “Oh, my God,” I thought, “the busybody old snoop has found our orgy pictures.” Then I remembered she had seen the live performance, so what the hell, let her have her kicks as long as the dear old landlady was not exposed to it.

But as I tiptoed barefoot into the room, I saw none other than the old lady herself holding our pictures up to the light and discussing our various positions as though she and her daughter were Masters and Johnson!

They were both so absorbed in the pornography that they didn’t hear me enter at first.

“Good morning, ladies,” I said., “Are you enjoying our happy snaps?”

They wheeled around, mouths open, dropped the pictures like hot coals into the open drawer, and slammed it shut.

“Madam,” I addressed myself to the daughter, “it is not enough that you snoop around things that don’t concern you, but you have to get an innocent old lady involved, too. You should be ashamed of yourself, you really should.”

They didn’t wait to hear any more, they just bowed their heads and hurried straight out of the room.

I was angry in a way, but at the same time grateful that pictures were the only thing they found, because stashed away in my pocketbooks, luggage lining, and even my passport were bundles of fifties, twenties, and tens, which represented most of my three months’ earnings.

I had already sent a substantial sum back to New York with a man named Larry, who has since become my permanent boyfriend. Nevertheless, it was a risky practice leaving so much money around, especially since the people I lived with weren’t what could exactly be called honest, particularly David.

To show you what he was like, in the nighttime we would all get dressed up, and he would take us to the most expensive restaurants in San Juan in a hot VW and pay for the multicourse banquets with stolen credit cards. If he could do something straight, he would reject it, because he got a great deal of genuine pleasure out of being crooked.

As the weeks went on, our behavior became more and more reckless and abandoned, and we would do almost anything that had an air of escapade about it, which is why one day David suggested we all get stoned on mescaline.

As I mentioned, I don’t use stimulants of any sort, not even coffee, so at first I was naturally scared. But David assured me everything would be all right, especially as we would all take a pill each together and the effects would last no longer than eight or nine hours.

David knew all about drugs – as well as turning on to them, he also pushed them on occasional trips to Miami – so we took his word for it.

It was a Friday morning when we went on our “trip.” We took the pills around noon as we left the guest house and in a “temporarily borrowed” Volkswagen drove to a small secluded beach ten minutes from San Juan.

By the time we arrived the pill had already started to work, and we piled out of the car onto the white-sand crescent and tore off all our clothes. Even Hood, the timid one, came out of his shell, and soon we were all rolling around in the sand near the water’s edge making love. Somebody tried to make Polaroid pictures of the scene, but the camera kept falling out of our hands, and after about two exposures it fell gurgling into the sea.

Then I remember wanting to have a pee, which I would normally be embarrassed to do with people around, unless it’s a freak scene and somebody wants to get peed on. But that day I was so abandoned I said, “Okay, baby, I’m going to pee.” I stood there naked doing it in front of the others while they were all stoned out of their heads, digging up the sand.