It was a special sort of club. So it had a special sort of manager. His name was Eddie Race and his game was making things interesting for couples jaded by too much honeymoon.

Take that worn lecher, Virgil Blandings, and his fresh, young girl-wife; Lucy had everything, but what he wanted was spice. Or consider Sandra, wife of Fred Jennings, successfully fond but unsuccessfully fondled. , . .

Private Club by Orrie Hitt

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