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The Hindu Temple:
Deification of Eroticism

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Novels and Novellas

Alexander & Olympias

Without any doubt, Alexander the Great is one of the most magnificent heroes in our history, but there are so many mysteries about him. This novel touches several intriguing ones. Everybody knows his name, but—

Do you know . . . ?

Alexander's parents worried about his lack of sexual interests.
Some say that Alexander had his physical response to women frozen in childhood by his parents' mutual hate.
To help Alexander, his mother—Olympias—hired a famous courtesan as one of his elegant 'companions' who combined the skills of the geisha and the Victorian cocotte to initiate him.
Unlike Alexander, his father—Philip—was highly sexed and made full use of his royal prerogative. He obtained a new wife with every war. In all he had at least a half dozen of these minor wives.
Olympias was the orphaned daughter of a former king of Epirus, the region of modern Albania.
Her family claimed descent from Achilles.
Neoptolemus—son of Achilles—had fathered their royal line upon Andromache, Hector's widow, his prize from the sack of Troy. Unaware of this lineage, Philip married the princess, and, leaving her pregnant, returned to his war.
The prophetic dreams of Philip and Olympias belong to the legend. He dreamed he was sealing her womb with the image of a lion; Olympias made love with a fire-brandishing snake. Alexander was born under the sign of Leo, in August 356 B.C.
Cleopatra—Alexander's sister—was born not long after him. Thereafter, Philip ceased to make love with Olympias.
Despite an image of a brave warrior, Alexander was a book worm.
Alexander constantly kept in touch with Olympias while he engaged himself in expedition in Asia.

Erotica Odyssey

This 1000-plus-page epic gives you at least an equal—if not more—joy of reading both Tales of a Thousand and One Nights and Fanny Hill.
Twenty-one chapters disclose the titillating erotic renditions of the ancient events and mysteries—from Minoan Parisienne to Odysseus.

EROTICA ODYSSEY provides the ultimate in sensual thrills and makes your blood scorchingly hot and wild!

Do you know . . . ?

Who was the most famous courtesan in the 15th century B.C.?
Did High Priestess Cretia caused the decline of the Cretan culture?
Why did Queen Hatshepsut ascend the Egyptian throne as a man?
How could Amenhotep III possibly manage to satisfy 317 damsels?
Was a virgin not desirable? Why not?
Did a “Freemason” exist in ancient Egypt?
How did a “CIA” of the ancient Egyptian dynasty function?
Was a sphinx female originally?
Did a “Minoan Venus” influence the renegade pharaoh Akhenaten?
Did Pasiphae, wife of Minos, really have sex with a bull?
What the hell was Minotaur, which fought Theseus?
Who did Ariadne make love with?
Did Phaedra, wife of Theseus, make love with her stepson?
Was the Egyptian harem a nest of conspiracies?
Did eunuchs exist in Egypt?
Why did a phallic god take an important role in Egypt?
How come the Egyptian ladies shaved their private parts?
What really happened to Pharaoh Tutankhamon?
Did Paris really trigger the Trojan War by kidnapping Helen?
What made Clytemnestra sleep with Aegisthus while her husband Agamemnon fought in the Trojan War?
Did Aegisthus seduce Electra, a daughter of Clytemnestra?
Did Penthesileia, an Amazon queen, really exist?
Did the Elusinian mysteries have erotic ceremonies?
Was Penelope faithful as believed?
Why did Odysseus leave Penelope alone despite meeting her after a decade?
How come the Egyptian went orgiastic in the festival of Bubastis?
and many more . . .

Mata Hari
(August 7, 1876 — October 15, 1917)

( Coming Soon . . . )

An exotic dancer famous for her sensational nude performances, Mata Hari had become the toast of Europe in the early years of the 20th century. In 1917 she stood before a French firing squad for acting as a German spy during the first World War. Her name now connotes a treacherous and fascinating female spy, but—

Do you know . . . ?

It has never been proved that she was in fact a double agent.
Eighteen-year-old Margaretha Geertruida Zelle answered an Amsterdam newspaper ad that looked for a wife.
Thus, Rudolph MacLeod, a balding 39-year-old Dutch army officer, ended up marrying Margaretha. Actually it was a joke set up by one of the officer's friends to put the ad in the papers.
For the next two years, they lived in Holland, where she bore their son, Norman. When MacLeod was reassigned to the Dutch East Indies, he took his family with him. There, Margaretha had another baby girl, Non, and liked to watch Javanese temple dancers, who inspired her future career.
Macleod flirted with the native girls. One story states that their son was poisoned by a native soldier incensed over MacLeod's seduction of his girlfriend, the boy's nurce.
Macleod grew jealousy because of his wife's popularity among his fellow officers, claiming that Margaretha slept with some younger officers.
The MacLeods returned to Holland and separated, and by 1904 Margaretha was in Paris, without husband or child.
At her debut as a dancer, she met Emile Etienne Guimet, the owner of an Oriental art museum, where she soon gave an electrifying performance of Oriental dances.
Theater critic Edouard Lepage described her performance:
“ Her flexible body at times becomes one with the undulating flames. Stiffening suddenly in the middle of her contortions with a brutal gesture, Mata Hari rips off her jewels and throws away the ornaments that cover her breasts. With her limbs she beats the air; with her long heavy hair she whips the imperturbable night.”
Yet some say that she never danced completely nude, but always concealed her breasts, which had been bitten and thus permanently disfigured by MacLeod.
Margaretha adopted a new name—Mata Hari (Malay for eye of the dawn). She even created an intriguing story for her debut:
Mata Hari was the child of a 14-year-old Indian temple dancer who had died giving birth. Raised by temple priests who taught her dances sacred to the Hindu god Siva, she danced nude for the first time at the age of 13 before the altar of a Hindu temple.

Mata Hari soon became a sensation, as well as a scandal, in the most major capitals of Europe. Once in a while, she wore only a piece of red flannel, diaper-fashion, at her crotch.
The spy plot began with the first World War. She rode through the streets of Berlin with a police official and seduced German statesmen. Some say, she agreeed to spy for the French for the million francs she needed to impress the father of her younger sweetheart—Vadime de Massloff, a Russian captain.
She was arrested by the French in February 1917. Some say she greeted the arresting officers naked on a couch in her hotel room.
Others say than Mata Hari took milk baths while Parisian children starved during the war.
A tube of secret ink in her possession turned out to be oxycyanide of mercury, which she injected into herself after making love as a birth-control method.
She was shot at the polygon of Vincennes, at her own request, without a blindfold. The rumor went around: she pulled open her coat to reveal her naked body so that the astounded firing squad could not squeeze a trigger. Actually, she did not. Nor did Vadime, her aviator boyfriend, strafe the field. Nor did another lover—inspired by the plot of the opera Tosca—bribe the firing squad to use blanks, put her in a ventilated coffin, and bury her in a shallow grave so that he could spirit her away.
The truth? She was executed, fully clothed. No one claimed her body, so it was contributed to a medical school for dissection. Was she guilty? That still remains a question.

Tokyo Roses
( Coming Soon . . . )

Tokyo Rose on trial!
The worst traitor in the U.S. history!

She worked for the Japanese Imperial Government's psychological warfare against America in the Pacific!

In San Francisco, the local newspapers began announcing the long-awaited trial—the first treason trial in the city's history—a week before it was to begin. The copy read like an advertisement for a new movie hit. The name of Iva Ikuko Toguri d'Aquino was not mentioned, nor that of Orphan Ann. There was no news value in either of them. Only counted Tokyo Rose.
The trial attracted attention because of its expense. The U.S. government announced that the trial would last six to eight weeks, and that the prosecution would cost $500,000. In fact, the trial ran thirteen weeks and the government ran over the anticipated amount, making it the most expensive trial in the history of federal courts to that time.
By contrast, the defenses were borne by three defense lawyers, all working without fee, and by Jun Toguri, Iva's father and small Chicago shopkeeper who had to borrow heavily to pay the other expenses.
The trial began at 10:00 a.m. on July 5, 1949—the day after Iva's thirty-third birthday.

Do you know . . . ?

There existed at least four Tokyo Roses.
Iva Toguri, one of thoses Roses, had just explained to correspondents she had been broadcasting “for the experience” and did not consider herself disloyal to the United States.
She was once imprisoned in Japan, but soon later released because the prosecutor thought there existed no sufficient evidence to win the case.
The political situation and general sentiment had changed once Iva landed on her homeland.
In February 1942, under Executive Order 9066, all persons of Japanese ancestry living on the West Coast, even those born in the U.S. with full citizenship, were forcibly interned by the government, scapegoats of the public shock and hysteria that followed the Pearl Harbor attack.
The most Americans thought treason a more detestable crime than murder. By an act of betrayal one individual might cause the death of thousands and even shatter the foundations of society. It was this public mood that ultimately made possible the power of a man like Joseph McCarthy.
After the war, the cold war started to loom over the States. The fear that traitors roamed free in America had manifested itself in the prosecution of Judith Coplon and Alger Hiss—both accused as agents of international Communism.
The label of traitor touched a deep and sensitive nerve in the popular psyche. Even though the treason trials of “Axis Sally” and “Tokyo Rose” had nothing to do with the Communist menace, the simple mention of the issue at stake—loyalty to the United States—was enough to excite emotion. By pushing traitors of whatever political stripe, the government let the public know that it would deal firmly and harshly with Communists and sympathizers as well.
Accordingly, the government wanted another scapegoat to divert the distress of the public over the death of their loved ones, and to show the public its attitudes toward the traitors.

Lady From The Rising Sun

During the bizarre, chaotic times of Shanghai in 1930s and '40s, Naomi Shima—a spine-chilling dragon lady by any standard—took a bigger role than any single lady in setting off the Second World War in the Far East, and operated as a rabble-rouser, super-agent provocateur.
Because of her involvements in intrigues, espionage, battles, and love affairs, Naomi was known as Mata Hari of the Orient or Jeanne d'Arc in the East. Although even a dare-devil could hardly carry out her adventurous, life-risking missions, Naomi looked like a willow-like fragile woman whose nut-brown eyes sparkled a feminine charm and whose physique inspired the image of an innocent virgin.
Distinguishing herself in calligraphy, flower arrangement, painting, and tea ceremony, among other fine arts, Naomi spoke several languages fluently and made friends in the international circles of politicians, journalists, and militarists. Naomi persuaded the last emperor Henry Pu-Yi to head a new state called Manchukuo.
The author's two-year research followed her foot steps and revealed her true nature and motives of her mysterious behaviors. Why did she cut her long black hair and get dressed like a man? Wearing a general's uniform as commander, Naomi actually led her own army in the fierce battle in North China and almost faced her death. Yet, she even won the international social dance contest in Shanghai.

Are you interested yet? If so, please read the whole story.

Short Stories

Social Studies
by June Adams
As a student of journalism, Eileen knew that escort agencies routinely recruited girls through the classified sections of newspapers in town.
“Escorts. Always Hiring,” stated one ad that ran frequently in a local newspaper. For curiosity and as part of her social study, Eileen had once applied for one job opening.
The day she went for the interview, Eileen dressed conservatively, in a suit suitable for the occasion. She climbed up some stairs in an old building in the warehouse district and, to her surprise and disgust, stepped into a really scummy, horrible room. To the left of the door cradled a little office with a telephone and a terrible couch, all ripped. It looked more like a pigsty. A foul-smelling dog roamed like a caged lion. She could saw a kitchenette with filthy glasses, in front of which stood two mean-looking men. One ma about six foot four inches, really hairy, muscular. He had once worked as prison guard, she later learned. The other turned out a typical wimpy li guy with a faded aloha shirt. He also worked as night manager at a local cinema.
Eileen told them honestly that she studied at college and that she needed money so she could continue her studies. They told her that she had to strip.
. . .

Eileen's First Fling
by June Adams
“Do you know, Eileen, you’ve got nice and shapely tits,” whispered Bill, a real estate agent, who had just helped her with her coat, and in the process he managed to cop a feel from her large breasts, the nipples of which suddenly turned into two crowns of coral and sent pings and tingles to all directions. She shivered in acute sensation.
“Once in a while, I dream of sucking your tits.” He tried to smile but his cheek twitched, instead.
In his middle thirties, Bill always joked around, but Eileen sensed something urgent in his tensed-up voice. Though he had never tried funny things on her, Eileen somehow felt that he had exposed his honest thought.
Working for this small real estate firm as a girl Friday, Eileen tried to be nice to every salesperson at the office. So she didn’t slap him on the face.
“Do you want to have a cup of coffee with me on your way back?”
Eileen actually turned crimson, when he touched it again knowing that her body responded like that of a sensitive virgin. He really got her going for a few seconds.
“No ... no thank you, I ... I’ve got to meet my boyfriend on my way.
“Well ... I’m disappointed.”
They parted like usual, but Eileen imagined on her way home how she would feel when Bill made love to her.
That night, Eileen fantasized while she made love with Terry, her boyfriend of three years.
She had read how some women plunged into an affair after having such enticing words as Bill’s. But not until Bill got her all hot by feeling her breasts, she hadn’t thought of making love with anyone specific.
Though she occasionally found things exciting about a couple of different men, Eileen had remained a one-man woman at heart. Yet she recently had to think about it seriously because an urge to make love with someone—except Terry—grew strong by the day. Am I in love with Bill? Or simply interested in having sex with him?—Eileen wondered.
. . .

Eileen's Affair
by June Adams
“Terry,” said Eileen with a knowing smile. She didn’t say any more words. Instead, she turned to the doorway, where Johnny had just left to get back to his own second-floor flat after an usual chitchat after dinner. Once or twice in a month, Johnny joined the couple and enjoyed a carefree talk afterward.
Eileen usually became frolicsome when their tenant joined their dinner. She enjoyed Johnny’s company, and his presence seemed to energize her sensual potency. Once he returned to his room, she always seemed to feel ready to make love with Terry.
Closing their bedroom door, they fell into each other’s arms. Terry spread her legs wide so that he could see the glistening insides of her turgid pussy, the sight of which naturally turned him on.
After adequately priming her for entry—which didn’t take too long—Terry slipped his rock-hard rod into her dripping snatch. Though he had never treated her roughly, her highly excited pussy gave him a strong urge to act like a stud, so much so that his thrust lifted her ass cheeks off the bed and her whole lower body got suspended around his rod.
Eileen got so carried away that she sounded like a wounded puppy as he continued pushing his cock into her straining pussy.
Most of the time she could come right along with him after three or four good, deep strokes. Then they rested for a while and started up again. Such a straight yet rigorous lovemaking had become their norm ever since Johnny had moved in.
. . .

Cathy's Frolic
by June Adams
At twenty-eight, Cathy still radiated her youth with a five-feet-five figure and her attractive measure 35.5-23-37.5. Her skin appeared clear of blemishes. Unlike most blondes, her complexion seemed somewhere between tan and gold.
After checking into her hotel and taking a shower, Cathy started to get dressed. A couple of months earlier, Fred, her thirty-two-year-old husband, had bought her a garter belt and sheer black stockings as a Valentine gift, but she never had the nerve to wear them. Now, away from home, she put them on. Her skirt had a split on the side so that when she walked one could see that she wore stockings and not panty hose.
Once at the casino, Cathy wandered aimlessly through the crowd, stopping for a few minutes to play the quarter slot machines but quickly grew bored with that. She decided to have a drink and went into the bar, found a vacant stool, and ordered a Scotch. Sitting there, sipping her drink and watching people, she couldn’t help noticing a man of her age walk in. With the wide shoulders and slim hips, he appeared like a sportsman type. He stood in the doorway, looking around for a minute, and then, seeing Cathy, walked directly to her.
“Hi, there.” He grinned.
Cathy couldn’t help smiling back.
“I haven’t seen you around before,” he said. “Are you new in town?”
“I stay at a nearby hotel,” Cathy answered.
“Then you aren’t wasting anytime getting started.”
Cathy thought he referred to her drink. “Well, that’s part of the reason I came here.”
He laughed. “And that’s coming directly to the point. What’s the going rate?”
Cathy didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”
“How much do you charge?”
All of a sudden it hit her. To her amazement, he thought her to be a hooker. For a moment Cathy had an urge to throw her drink at him, but on her second thought she decided to play along with him, and found something exciting in pretending to be a hooker.
. . .