A city full of organized vice, humming along down the road to Hell with the sinometer clocking up dollars for the Syndicate . . . A honky-tonk town where the B-Girls sip cold tea and sell flaming bodies to the suckers; where the next best thing to a virgin is very good indeed, and you can’t do any better because nobody would know a virgin if they saw one. A lust-plum ripe for the plucking. And into this carefully-planned cesspool of commercial passion came the best thief of all—a clean-cut, well-dressed bright young man who happened to have no conscience and a handy gun. His boyish looks and prep school manners made even hardened wantons like Ava, the redheaded hooker, worry about what might happen to him. But it wasn’t long before Ava—and Liz, and Rita, and the other sin-queens he left whimpering—found out the most important thing about clean-cut young Jeff Marlowe. He was born to make even a cesspool like Sinville look clean by comparison!