A tremendous moment in his life, she had thought then, sobs uncontrollably choking up from her throat, and again that thought tore bitterly at her as she floated placidly on her raft in the security two wealthy ex-husbands and an unremembered number of lovers had made possible. But there were no more strangling sobs now. That moment had passed as it had myriad times before for whatever their reason, and now only the mean emptiness she had been left with so many, many times since she'd ran away from that Nebraska farm with a summer-stock actor named, Robert Calwart, remained.
Eve had been sixteen at the time, and he forty, handsome, a ticket to the capitol of the world for her. God, she hadn't even been a virgin then, had she? No, there'd been three hired men… or was it four…? What difference? Robert had really been good to her and three months later they had wound up in L.A. where it really all began. It was exactly what she wanted, to be on Hollywood's doorstep where she could display the physical endowments she well knew she possessed. And through Ben Zachary, Robert's agent, she'd gotten her first bit part in a B movie. Of course, it'd meant sleeping with Ben, another basically good, forty year old man, but she'd hardly minded. His fat little tongue had been like a wildly striking snake up between her legs, and it hadn't been long before she'd moved her things to his apartment. On and on it had gone, from Ben's bed to others she could hardly remember, and finally a pair of lesbian actresses shacking together who admitted her to make a troilism. That hadn't been so awful, either, especially considering the way they had managed to secure better and better parts for her, until she had finally met Roy… Roy Marvin, the last of the small-time western stars.