One day I was in the White House delivering a message to Nixon from Kissinger. Nixon and I were standing in a large room where there were some tables lining the walls and couches and large rugs covered the wooden floor. Old pictures dotted the walls, fresh flowers were in beautiful vases and heavy drapes covered the windows. I guess Nixon thought we were alone as we stood facing an oil painting on the wall by a long table. Dick had his arm around me as he was inputting a reply back to Henry through me. A hand on my right shoulder was standard procedure to encode incoming messages and Nixon was doing it all properly, however, halfway though the message, his daughter Trisha came into the room.
She looked very pretty in her nice dress, but she didn't know I was there and when she called out, "Dad," it startled her father and I, and, in turn, she was surprised and shocked. It was one of those very awkward situations where it appeared she instantly summed up the whole situation and thought her father was being romantic with me. Nixon acted extremely guilty and stammered uncomfortably until he finally introduced me as someone from the State Department. She didn't seem to buy his explanation and left the room annoyed and upset.
Nixon said to me, "Don't worry about her, I'll take care of this." But he said it with his hand still on my right shoulder, so instead of it just being a casual statement meant for me, it actually became part of the his message to Henry. After that Henry began to devise a way for messages to be encoded without having to touch my shoulder in order to avoid these types of situations.
There were times I was flown to foreign countries so Henry Kissinger or President Nixon could utilize my computerized "mind files" at meetings they were attending publicly or later privately. On the flight to these countries, it was my job to make the President comfortable. I took off his shoes, rubbed his feet, pampered him and brought him anything he wanted. Secret Service agents surrounded him.
When I flew with Kissinger and Nixon was not there, I was told to sit or sleep quietly next to him. Henry often slept on the airplane. Nixon did not.
I believe that the Secret Service agents at times knew what I was really doing sexually with Nixon because occasionally they witnessed when I came on to him. Like one time when I leaned over and put my head on his shoulder and reached down to unzip his pants, a Secret Service agent who was just walking up from behind, laughed and said, "Excuse me, Sir." At this point Nixon took my hand away and quietly said to me, "Later, dear."
There were dirty waterways in some parts of China and the streets in some areas where I was taken were dirty. One square was full of flags in the courtyard. I was there on foreign assignment with Henry Kissinger. I flew independently and was taken to a hotel by a Secret Service agent. The Secret Service registered me in the hotel under a phony name with a phony passport. Henry met me there. Usually I flew privately on a chartered jet with Henry, but this time it was last minute notice so we flew commercially but separately.
We were there to swing a deal with the leader of China. Henry told them I was a foreign correspondent and we sat at a long table with lots of Chinese men and I sat next to Henry. I always sat to Henry's left for his convenience in tapping me with this left hand leaving his right hand free to write or smoke his cigar. He told me to smile, look pretty and "take it all in," which meant record data into my mind files. He notified me who to zero in on and "listen intently" to. He also used access codes to refer to my mind files. No one knew that I was a high tech programmed computer that was carefully and precisely recording details and spewing information when my mind files were accessed and called upon.
BeBe Rebozo was President Nixon's good friend. He was present on many occasions when Nixon used me for sex. One such time was in Miami, Florida. I was flown into Miami and taken by limo to the beach where I was to meet Nixon.
As usual, I was put into isolation before my use with VIP's and this time was no different. BeBe Rebozo and his men took an active role in my «preparation» for Nixon.
Rebozo was violent and cruel to me, slapping and hurting me. He took me to a totally dark, windowless, cement room and left me there, naked and alone in the dark. Before he left, men injected drugs into my lower arm and left me for hours without food, water, or clothes. This was before I had children, so they could not yet use that powerful maternal bond to keep these programmed secret events amnesiac, like they did later on. Because of this, the physical torture to me during this time was accelerated, but was never as painful as the things they later did to my children in order to "keep me in line."
Rebozo dressed in fancy expensive suits and wore gold jewelry. Subconsciously I hated him.
On this occasion, Rebozo came and released me from isolation and took me to a restroom to clean up. I showered and put on the bikini they left for me and soon was readied for action with Nixon.
I don't know exactly where we were because I was programmed never to look or notice our location, but I was taken to President Nixon at a private beach house. My instructions were to "tease him, please him, ease him and help him relax in the sun." It was on this private beach, watched from every angle by the Secret Service, that I seduced Nixon. I was laughing and joking with him as I undressed him from his suit, tie, and dress shoes. Then we slipped into the water while I further seduced him. After he was satisfied, I was removed and taken somewhere to get «prepared» for an evening event with the President.
Nixon had dinner in his room and I accompanied him while he ate, then satisfied him sexually and was taken away. Nixon was not as passive sexually as Reagan was. He made an effort and took initiative. He preferred the missionary position. I suggested we keep the light on, but he always wanted to turn the lights out, so he did. I never slept in the bed with Nixon after sex — it was his rule. I never did spend the whole night with him, like I did with some of the others. I was instructed to wait until he was asleep and then to very quietly notify the Secret Service agent at the door to the suite. The agent took me out of the room and I was flown directly back to California with all details of the event carefully tucked and hidden away within the personalities programmed for Nixon. Per program, I slept the whole flight home.
In the beginning years with Nixon, I was programmed to make him happy and to satisfy him in the ways I had been trained and programmed to. Just as the Council anticipated, over time, Nixon's trust built in relation to me, paving a way for me to be used in ever more influential circumstances with him.
There were times I was taken to Key Biscayne, Florida, to service Nixon. He was with BeBe Rebozo there and it seemed that BeBe was in charge of the events that occurred while we were on his turf.
Each time, Rebozo put me into isolation in a small cement room and slapped me around before he left me alone in the room naked, cold, and hungry, in his words, "to get ready for 'the boss," as he called Nixon. Rebozo would tell me how "the boss" deserved respect and whatever it took to make him comfortable. He spoke in broken Mob language. He acted like a really tough guy and was very loyal to his friend Nixon.
When he came to release me from isolation, BeBe instructed me, "make yourself presentable," and I was cleaned up and dressed. Then, I was taken by limo to a beach that had palm trees on it. We arrived at sunset. Since I was programmed not to notice where I was geographically, I had no way of knowing where I was, but at times I overheard others speak of our location and that information was stored along with memory of the event. We pulled up to a very secluded house where there weren't a lot of other people around. The house was on the beach and a lawn surrounded by a short fence led out to the ocean.