On their first night Carrie had been nervous, and Slater had tried to think of some way to make it easier for her, to show her how fine and free it could be. But the moment they'd stepped into the cabin, she had undressed, matter-of-factly, a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her body was white and incredibly lovely, and Slater had felt desire engulf him. He had held her, hungrily, and hardly listed to the one thing she'd said. ''I don't think I'll be much good at this.'' She had been so cruelly right. And that, in a way, was what had killed her. That, and a beautiful woman named Jenny.

It is the story of the strange, private world built by a man of many faces and as many distorted passions, and of the women who dared enter that world.

It's a wild, wild joyride - from Thunderbird to Bluebird, from classroom to Cheetah, with stops on the way at rent-by-the-hour motel rooms. You'll watch in horror as the Pucci-Plantagenet crowd burns up the roads, heading for that sickening, inevitable crash . . . that jolting confrontation with the reality they can't escape . . ....

His hand trembled as he answered the phone.

''Mr. Bowser?''

''Yes.''

''Mr. Bowser, my name is Harvey Plangman.''

''Yes, Mr. Plangman. I have your wallet, and jacket, too, I believe.''

''And I have yours.''

''Why don't you drive over here? I could offer you a drink and we could reclaim our things.''

''Mr. Bowser, were you planning on going to Brazil?''

Was this really how the world ended?

''You don't have anything to be afraid of, Mr....

So far, no luck and no astro-twins. The studio deadline is scorching Archie's neck, and, as Ms. Muckermann kindly explains to his wife, the fault is in Archie's stars. His signs are bad. Nothing but trouble can be anticipated.

As unpredictable Gemini...

Heine pointed the knife at her. "O.K., Lady Godiva, take off the blouse."

She stood motionless, unable to answer or move.

"Go ahead," Heine said. "Take that piece-of-nothing off."

The boy's shoulders slumped and he began to groan. "Brace, mister " Bar shouted. He put a fist in the boy's gut, and the boy sank to his knees in the dirt, weeping helplessly. "O.K., green-belly," Bar said. "Stay there. Your turn comes next."

Dazedly the girl undid her blouse. Heine reached and yanked it off her shoulders. She stood there quivering, her...

She was hurrying past the field on her way home when the man stepped out from behind a tree and stood spraddle-legged in her path. Ginny Lee was uncommonly pretty, a small girl with unusually long legs for someone her size, good legs with finely molded ankles; and her breasts above the rounded hips and very thin waist were large and full, not in a way that gave her a top-heavy look, but a proud, feminine look. Ginny Lee was happy about her looks except for one thing: she needed glasses. She stood there blinking and squinting, trying to recognize the man who stood there so menacingly. "Who...

These were nice kids, model kids. They didn't wear leather jackets and roam the streets in "wolf packs"; they didn't steal and mug for dope. For kids, they were well mannered and quiet. They were attractive and nicely dressed. You'd have welcomed them as next-door neighbors.
Yet...
one raped
one murdered
one killed by fire
What got into them?
What dark thoughts tormented them when they were alone at night?