Carol was thirty-five, and at thirty-five she still hadn't found the sexual satisfaction she craved. She wasn't sure that any of her friends had found it either but that was Utile consolation for her. Her life had to improve before the ravages of time began to show themselves. It was in this mood of unrest approaching desperation that she found herself on this particular afternoon.

She had been allowing herself to drift back in her thoughts to the night more than twenty years ago when all her sexual problems had started. Her daily plunges into the dark waters of her memory of that night had left her a bit exhausted lately. But Carol was strong of will and was determined now to find a way out of the maze of her sexual hang-ups. It all came back to her as if it had happened only yesterday.

Carol was an orphan, an orphaned child of parents who were killed in an automobile accident. There were no relatives to care for her and she was put into an orphanage. Luckily, because of her incredibly winning cuteness, she had been adopted at the age of three, only a few months after the loss of her parents. She remembered little of her experience in the orphanage. Of her experience with her new father she remembered much.

Actually she had been quite happy with her new family. Her adoptive mother cared for her as if she were her own child and her father, at least in the first several years of her life, exhibited toward her the same feelings of fatherly love that any father would have felt for his child. The situation suddenly had changed, however.

Tragedy struck one night when, for the second time in Carol's young life, an automobile accident had claimed a member of her family. This time it was her mother who had died. Carol had been eighteen at the time and had felt the loss of her mother deeply, more deeply than she had felt the loss of her real mother, whom she hardly remembered. Her father had felt that loss even more deeply.