Reagan said, "You look beautiful as always." I smiled shyly and he lifted his hand up, brushed my hair off my shoulder and pushed on the side of my neck. I felt like my eyes rolled out of my head. He looked to the Secret Service agents and said that he didn't think I was "quite ready.»

The Secret Service agents took me outside into the ocean air and walked me around a bit and then took me back to him. They said, "Perform!" and I sat down, this time more alert, bubbly and talkative!

Finished eating by now, Reagan took my hand again and said, "Let's get out of here." We walked through the kitchen and out the back door, with Secret Service agents before and after us, into a waiting limo. I asked him where Nancy was and he said, "She's home where she belongs!" He pulled my legs up over his lap as we drove away and said, "You're in for a real treat tonight."

It was late at night when we pulled up in front of a big white hotel. We went in quickly, after a Secret Service agent checked to make sure the lobby was clear. Reagan and I went hand-in-hand to the elevator up to the second floor. We followed the agent down the hall and waited as he stopped in front of a room, while two other agents guarded Reagan outside. There was a balcony off the room, and we could hear the surf. It wasn't the plushest of rooms, but it was nice.

Reagan took off the white summer coat I'd been given to wear and sat next to me on the bed. He started talking to me as he undid the back of my dress. He undressed me this time, revealing the sheer white lacy bra, panties and white nylons I had been given to wear.

Reagan was aggressive this night. This was not typical behavior for him, as he was usually so passive. He pushed me back onto the bed and kissed me eagerly while I began undressing him, one button at a time. He was in a hurry and very passionate. I was surprised at how different he was. He nibbled my ear, rubbed my navel to access touch programming, and I performed oral sex. While he lay on his back, I climbed on top of him to bring him to orgasm. Soon I lay down next to him, and we dozed off to sleep.

A few hours later, a Secret Service agent woke me up and put his finger to his lips to keep me quiet so I wouldn't wake up the President. The agent grabbed my clothes and shoes and took me to another room to dress. They put me into a dark sedan and took me back to my hotel, the El Presidente.

The next morning I woke up next to my husband in our hotel room, as if from a nap, feeling really strange, very tired, and out of it, but with no trace of memory of my time with Reagan. That evening my husband and I went to dinner with our friends and I was unable to think or do much more than eat my dinner and smile occasionally at someone as they spoke at the table. I did manage to stay awake through dinner but couldn't wait to go to sleep. The next morning I woke exhausted and feeling ill, but didn't know why. Waking weary and worn out was such a common occurrence for me and I had no way of knowing why I was really tired. I just figured that being tired, dazed, and feeling ungrounded was the way I was born. I never was able to think past that thought in order to penetrate the amnestic barrier, until much later.

I was used on Catalina Island, for sexual rendezvous with Reagan and sometimes other public officials or entertainers. If Nancy didn't accompany Reagan to Catalina, it usually meant my use with him was for sex. She accompanied him at times when business affairs were at hand and other people were present for meetings. If Ronnie would touch me on the hand or look at me, she would get upset. Quietly and off to the side, he would tell me not to worry my pretty little head about her. I was programmed to have sex with Reagan at the Wrigley Mansion, the Zane Grey and other hotels on the island. It seems Reagan was usually on the island anonymously; for security purposes, no one was to know he was there.

There were usually two Secret Service agents who escorted me to my assignment. We often walked to our destination on the island when it was only a short distance. They directed me where to go and stayed behind me so that it would not appear that they were with me. An agent delivered me to the hotel room to wait for Reagan. Reagan preferred for me to wait for him naked, but he told me each time how he wanted me to be the next time and I did as instructed.

The agents who delivered me were always waiting right outside with the other agents when it was time to go. Then, they delivered me back to my hotel room.

When I looked at Reagan's body when he was naked he had a white flabby stomach and buttocks, not fat, just flabby and old looking. When I was scheduled to be with him, I was preinstructed to put on five strategically located sprays of Oscar de la Renta perfume — one spray on each side of my neck, one on each wrist and one in between my legs. He was very sensory oriented and my body had to be super clean. He often told me he liked how I smelled.

Reagan literally lay on his back the whole time we were having sex and had me do him. It was always one-on-one with him, usually quiet and sedate. No violence, no intensity. He liked for me to rub his back and then help him on with his pajamas. At this point in the evening, I often felt like I was pampering and putting a child to bed, despite the fact that he was 40 years older than I was! He made sure everything was comfy and in place. It was fairly routine, never much variation.

One night at the Wrigley Mansion, Reagan wanted me to pretend like I was forcing him to have sex with me. After the game, he put the stun gun to the small of my back. I never knew when it was coming with him because he would smile and all of a sudden I'd get zapped. Then I passed out, just sort of fainted over on him and he would catch me and direct my body over next to him, and then he would turn away and go to sleep, but his body was still touching me.

Sometimes the stun gun was placed at the base of my skull. Different places for different reasons. In the forehead it was meant to erase the mind file just used.

Over the years, I suffered from chronic pelvic pain and sharp stabbing pains that shot up through my vagina and rectum. I went to the doctor in an attempt to alleviate the cause, but by 1984 it was decided that a total hysterectomy was the only cure for my pain. I was 33 years old. After the surgery, the pain did lessen, but wasn't completely gone. At that time I was still unaware that I had been abused but when I began to have flashbacks and memories of the extreme sexual abuse that I had endured my whole life, the pain lessened. Once my hidden past was brought to conscious awareness, I healed and the pain went away for good.

I had to maneuver through lots of fairy tale programming like the following in order to gain access into memory of experiences when I was used as a mind file for Henry Kissinger at secret meetings. There was a fairy tale about a beautiful redwood forest, but it wasn't real, it was only fantasy. It had beautiful giant trees with red bark and it was in the mountains. There was a beautiful fairy princess who visited there and she was allowed to because she had special connections to the forest animals. She made friends with the great owl who watched over her and kept her safe. He alerted her if there were any problems because he was so big and so wise. He looked big to her because she had taken the magic mushrooms just like Alice in the Looking Glass and she couldn't tell if he was really big or she was just very tiny, but he could watch out for her.

This fairy tale was intended to cover and scramble the real memory of a men's camp of sorts in the California redwoods. There was a wooden box mounted on a tree with a special phone inside that the group of men who met there could call from. Henry needed me there to assist him with data. After the meetings during the day he would layer in the fairy tales at night in an attempt to scramble my memory.