Back home at the O.R.G.Y.

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THE EVENING OF MAY 12TH, 1967, I SLIPPED BETWEEN the sheets of a bed in a Hollywood hotel, established contact with the world famous cinema sex-kitten Misty Milo, and proceeded to break several California statutes having to do with erotic practices between unmarried members of opposing sexes. Two weeks later I rode a yak up a Tibetan mountain located well behind the Bamboo Curtain, dismounted at a snowed-in tape to meet with a priestess of polyandry, and proceeded to bust several Lamaist taboos relating to sexuality. Some hours after my arrival I entered an elaborate palace in Northern Arabia, found myself face-to-face with the Queen of Sheba, and proceeded to shatter several Sheban mores designed to restrict queenly carnality.

The Queen of Sheba!—“Balkis,” to label her with historical accuracy-—-circa 950 B.C., or thereabouts—which is quite a “circa” for a mod cat like me who always thought H. G. and Jules1 dropped their time machines right between the gratings of the Credibility Gap2 . The Queen of Sheba!

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