Joyce Taylor was a nice high school girl, maybe a little wild, and when she is kicked out of school for doing a bump-and-grind number on a cafeteria table she moves to the big city and gets a job. There she meets a man who introduces her to the smoky world of jazz and before she knows it, she's inhaled some of that sweet, sweet smoke. When the cops get in on the action the misery starts and Joyce finds herself on a roller coaster ride to oblivion. N.R. de Mexico wrote as if he knew his subject, yet refrained from getting as preachy about dope as many of his contemporaries did. The pot-smoking jazz scene of the 50s is well described and filled with smart, sympathetic people. "Marijuana Girl will get you through times of no money better'n money will get you through times of no Marijuana Girl." -- Knees Calhoon

He pulled her close to him and kissed her gently. "I don't think so," he said. It was no longer important that Erica had been Ivan's mistress. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman before. He let his hands slip lightly over her smoothly curving back, caressing the slenderness of her neck beneath the warm hair. He kissed her lips, her eyes, and the soft line of her jaw, feeling her body tensing.She pressed closer to him with a responsive warmth, and he dropped his hands to her waist, almost encompassing it with his clutching fingers.She said, "Gary-not here! Not now!"He said, "Yes, darling. Now!" Her body went all limp.For a moment he thought of Dolores' scheme. Now, in this moment of confessional, he should tell her. Now, this very instant. But the thought touched him fleetingly and was gone. She turned her body until she lay, odalisque-fashion, against the leather pillows. She drew him close.Then, very distinctly, he heard the latch of the garden house door leading down to the garage click closed. But, in a moment, he had forgotten that.