There was a room in Denver, Colorado, that was filled with orchids of many colors and shapes. Along two sides of the room were beds of tree bark, hemmed in by railroad ties. A sunken Jacuzzi, big enough for eight people, graced the center of the room.

This room came into being because of a broken kneecap. An operation restored Margo’s knee but she had to regain her mobility. What better therapy, we reasoned, than to exercise the knee while sitting in the hot waters of a Jacuzzi.

Our basement was not an option for it and so we bought rafters and nails, and a few other items and built a 25-foot addition to our home, our solarium. Here we spent many relaxing evenings sitting in the hot water, soothing away the aches of a 12-hour work day at our business.

One of our business customers was Larry. He was a geologist who one day had decided to hang his Ph.D. in the closet and follow his inner voice. And so Dr. Lawrence became just Larry the free-lance photographer, capturing the beauty of the Colorado Rockies. He also traded the city for a secluded place at the foot of LaVeta Pass south of Denver.

One weekend afternoon he phoned to order a supply of picture frames. To save him some travel we offered to take his order home with us. It was late when we came home, exhausted after a strenuous day. Larry arrived a few minutes later, together with his beautiful girlfriend, a tall, willowy blonde.

She carried a big shopping bag and Larry cheerfully announced that his girlfriend would take over and prepare dinner for the four of us.

After dinner they wanted to see our solarium. He admired the orchids and then wondered if ther e was a chance to sample the hot tub. “Just be aware that our filter does not take kindly to fabric fibers,” I told him. “Naturally,” he answered and started to unbutton his shirt.

What could we do but follow suit. I only wondered what his shy girl friend would do. She was wearing a long dress down to her toes, accentuating her slim figure. I watched her slide it off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. And there stood the most perfectly proportioned female body I had ever seen, her blonde tresses hanging down to her waist. No marble statue could rival this young lady, with the exception maybe of the Venus de Milo.

We enjoyed our wine and some good conversation. We luxuriated in the hot water and watched the snow fall outside. A flickering candle on our floating table cast just enough light to appreciate the blooming orchids surrounding us.

The next day while talking to a neighbor across the fence, we recounted the peaceful evening with Larry and his girlfriend.

She burst out laughing. “I know what happened. Mrs. Grundy has already told me all about the wild sex orgy of last night.”