Fred Hartman's "parties" were always bizarre and unusual. He was a man who gave parties and had no friends. No one who knew him could say they knew him well. Even his employees couldn't really say they understood or knew him. Immensely wealthy, he traveled a great deal, going to strange parts of the world where tourists never dared go. When at home on his estate outside of Chicago, he was a recluse until he decided, without any apparent reason and without warning, to throw a party.

His parties were the talk of a select crowd of swingers and adventurers. Hartman selected his guests the same way he selected his girls: carefully. Some of his parties got wild and… if words got to the authorities… he could be in trouble. Yet… because they were so wild… people died to have an invitation to his estate. It was often said… and none ever disagreed, "You'll never forget a Fred Hartman party."

Why did he do it, why did he give such lascivious parties where girls performed and humiliated themselves in front of others? No one could give more than an educated guess. Fred himself was an aloof man who expertly parried any question he didn't care to answer. Still, the questions persisted. And, at this latest party, everyone was gloating over the oil-covered, stunning brunette writhing so lewdly on the bed, and they were wondering: where did he get her?

She was too stunning, too voluptuously beautiful in every way to be some tramp whore he picked up off the streets. Yet, she acted like a real slut. She was obviously enjoying her lewdness as she lay nakedly spread-eagled on the bed while Herman and Ben obscenely pawed her body, sticking their oil-coated fingers up her tight little cunt and fucking them savagely in and out.