Nick Carter lay on a frowzy bed in the apartment clad only in his shorts and watched the Princess narrowly. He wondered if she was going to be equal to the task ahead of them. She had all the look of a woman about to come apart at the seams. She pace the floor, wearing only the dirty magenta wrapper that belonged to Emanuelita, with a cigarette dangling from her red mouth. Now and then as she swung around, he caught a glimpse of her taut little breasts. At the moment the sight did not stir his senses. More important things than sex were crowding in on him now.

1967.