In New York, the Times Square Clock Tower was the site of many drug deals with Rockefeller and the CIA working together. On one deal my programming and information was as follows: "Meet me in Times Square. You will be known by your fruits. Go to the fruit stand and buy (always different combinations of fruit) an apple, two pears, a banana and two oranges, then walk over and sit on the bench and set your fruit out next to you on the bench so it can be seen. Give the man who sits down and eats the apple the message. Only give the message if he eats the apple. Give no one else the message." Once the man arrived and ate the apple, the message was to tell the man where to pick up the drugs.

It was dangerous business and they stationed three men on rooftops who were armed with high-powered rifles to protect and watch over the drug deal. They said that I was too important an asset to risk losing. Years before, I had been programmed to say to anyone who attempted to access me without permission, "Hi, stupid. Men who don't value their life mess with me when my owner is not around. But it's the last time they ever do."

Opium, heroin, and cocaine sales went down. All I had to do was to tell them where it was located.

There were also drug deals locally in California. These took place over the years at Disneyland, Busch Gardens, Knott's Berry Farm, World Fairs and other public places. These transactions occurred when I was with other people, like my family or friends, who took me to the location under the guise of 'a day of entertainment. I was instructed to deliver information to a man who made himself known to me. My controllers told me what type of clothing the man would be wearing and what color hat. When I saw the target that matched the physical description that I was preprogrammed to look for, I excused myself from my friends and family, telling them I had to go to the bathroom. When the target made contact with me, I would ask him a question, like, if he wanted a 'Twinkie. If he said yes, then I'd deliver the message to him. There was always a precise word combination he would have to say back to me in response to my question. Then and only then would or could I robotically deliver the message.

There were numerous drug and/or munitions transactions that I was used to facilitate that took place all over the world in conjunction with other outings I was taken on.

Reagan was in New York often. It was called a "Double Whammy" when I would sleep with and deliver a message to Reagan, and then deliver the message back to the Council. I usually had sex with Reagan after the drug deals. I don't think he knew about them. It was a separate deal. But, they combined the two jobs for me into one time frame, for efficiency.

Robert Mondavi had a Lear jet. Craig took me to the Mondavi Cellers in Napa Valley, California in the wine country. There was a man to whom I was programmed to give numbers of accounts that Alan Greenspan had set up for him to launder certain monies through. I never spent the night with Craig during that trip through the wine country, though it was supposed to be our time away together, for just the two of us. All I consciously remembered until later was stopping at winery after winery, yet I usually didn't taste the wine. I slept with Mr. Mondavi; he always wore a suit or very nice casual clothes. He was "dapper," as Bob would say.

When Craig and I went to Big Sur for weekends away, we often went to a beautiful restaurant called Napenthe. It was located on a crag overlooking the ocean and at night it took on a magical glow, cast by the many tiny candles lit all over the restaurant. Craig got us a nice table and we sat down and then a switch would occur. When he got up to go to the bathroom, another man came and sat down next to me in Craig's place. I ended up having sex and delivering a message to this man. There were many such occasions where Craig "moved over" and changed places with governors, or presidents, or entertainers — whomever my controllers needed me to be with.

I remember being taken to a place where a huge green lawn defined by a white fence traveled as far as the eye could see. From what I understood, this was the home of the Kennedy family for generations. Joseph and Rose, the older Kennedys lived there. There was a big two-story white house that had a porch on the outside and a big circular driveway in front. This is where the Kennedy family met for family gatherings and annual reunions. Joe and Rose invited the entire family. I was there, dressed as a maid for the day, in a black dress and little white apron. It was my job to deliver the «goodies» on a silver platter. But there were lots of maids on hand for these types of occasions so when I slipped off with one of the Kennedy men, I wasn't missed. I usually started off serving hors d'oeuvres, but when a Kennedy man approached me and gave me the eye, I was instructed to continue holding my tray, so it still looked like I was working as we walked into the house. Then we would go to a back bathroom or bedroom for sex. Later, I would reappear, carrying my tray of food. Then I would mingle and usually would be approached again, so the whole routine started all over again and I would sexually service another of the Kennedy men.

I got started "maidtressing," as Bob jokingly called it, at their parties when I was a young preteen, "going on twenty-five," when I went there the first time. The younger men in the family selected me but it didn't take long for the word to get around and the older men wanted a try. I looked older than twelve.

The programmed personality for these parties felt that JFK taught me a lot. He played with me in a teasing, fun-loving way, so different than Ted who was so violent. After dinner JFK often went into the family television room. He sat on the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table and leaned back to watch television. He liked to have a short afterdinner drink. He didn't care if he was watching alone, he laughed and laughed at the shows he watched. He was an unusually cheerful man most of the time.

When JFK was assassinated, they told me before they did it, and after they had killed him they said to me, "He is the President and we can make him live or make him die and no one would ever miss you should you step out of line. Then we would have to take care of you, like your little boyfriend JFK."

It was sad the year JFK died. Everyone wore black and Rose, sitting in her wheelchair, kept crying. It was a very sad affair. I think the sex was down that year because evidently some of the men were genuinely grieving. Jackie cried a lot at family parties after he died. She had a hard time adjusting at first but the Kennedy family stood by her and helped her. She sat with the ladies and cried, and they listened and supported her.

Ted Kennedy was brutal. He was one of the most violent and meanest men I was with. He liked to have sex with me anywhere and everywhere he could, but he especially liked to have sex in cold climates in rooms with a fireplace. One place had a big rock fireplace and he made a big fire and then wanted to have sex all night. When he neared orgasm he would slap and beat me. He hit me so hard it felt like my head would explode. Then in his proper Kennedy accent, he would call me a "c-t." He liked to tie my arms over my head to the headboard or if there wasn't anything to attach my hands and wrists to, he would tie them tightly together. Lots of times he made me stay tied up for a long time. He liked to hand cuff me also. He was really into bondage and if I ever neared any sexual pleasure he would start hitting and slapping me, and once that began it was like he couldn't stop himself and quickly escalated into extreme violence. He seemed to require that in order to orgasm.