from it or refer to it and people present would just think I was his secretary or aide. This happened for years.
At night, Henry snuck me into lots of top secret places where documents were stored and gave me a flashlight and instructions to go through and memorize documents. He let me into these places and then would leave me alone, recording documents into mind files, often for hours at a time. Later he came back to get me. There were times he was sweating when he returned and was in a real hurry to leave, even if I was right in the middle of a document. Then, when we got into the car he would sigh like he was relieved. He would become very nervous, though.
Henry always readied me for the Rockefeller Christmas parties, but so would a group of other men who were sometimes with him and knew how I worked. It depended on who was to attend the party. When they obtained that information, they went about strategizing and deciding what I should say to whom. The Rockefellers have been in a position of power for a long time. Kissinger seemed to work hand-in-hand with them often, in order to 'satisfy their goals in the most efficient manner.'
There were times Henry loaded me up with information specifically for someone and then I would be the secret liaison between the two. This occurred between Henry and Pete Wilson. Pete was often Henry's California arm. This way Pete could carry out his wishes without it being known where the instructions were coming from.
When important meetings were held at the White House, sometimes Henry took me along if he felt there might be information that was «crucial» to have at the «ripe» time. He told people I was in training or some other excuse. One time he even had me write information on a napkin under the table so as not to be noticed. This specific napkin event occurred around 1971, because I remember that I had my hair done up with a hairpiece full of curls on top. I was 20. Henry had my clothes ready for me; usually very tailored, conservative, dark clothes, most often a navy blue jacket, skirt and low navy heels, or a disguise. He laid my clothes on the bed in a room with two twin beds with white bedspreads — the bumpy kind. He told me to get dressed and left the room, closing the door behind him. Later he returned to get me.
At other White House dinners, I wasn't present at the table with the other guests, but Henry was. When I didn't fit into the plan of the evening in order to sit at the table, Henry still «prepped» me and kept me in the kitchen or another room in the White House, close to the dining room so he could come and access me if necessary, without anyone knowing. So I sat there in 'park mode' and watched the White House kitchen staff cook and serve. At those times I was dressed like a kitchen staff member with a black skirt and white blouse, so I didn't look out of place. Henry explained that if I didn't stand out no one would notice or pay attention. My 'attire,' as he called it, was never meant to call attention to my presence but instead was to make me fit in and look like I belonged. Over the years Henry parked me in some pretty strange places. When he would arrive to access information, I would scribble it on a piece of paper he would take with him, or if it was brief he would access me verbally and would simply remember what information he extracted. Henry often said, I was his 'left brain,' so he could use his mind for more important matters.
At times while I was sitting with he and others in the dining room, Henry would often leave the table to go make important phone calls. He would either leave me at the table to smile and be pleasant, but instructed me to avoid conversation, or he would take me with him to obtain further input via the telephone. Sometimes he would carry his linen napkin from the dining table and looked pretty dumb but no one seemed to notice.
The White House was a place I was taken to in order to 'do a job' on certain leaders — some foreign, some domestic. I was given very clear suggestions and instructions on who to target and how to go about it. I was briefed on their likes, dislikes and preferences and was told certain phrases or key words to use throughout the conversations I was programmed to have with them.
Henry was often invited to the White House when the President was entertaining foreign guests, even after Nixon wasn't President any longer. They felt, and rightly so, that Kissinger was well versed and knew many of the cultural customs of foreign dignitaries so the risk of making a faux pas could be avoided. Henry was confident and seemed to know everything about foreign policy. When he was invited to a dinner with a foreign dignitary that the Council wanted to have me privately entertain later on in the evening, he wouldn't use my mind files at the end of the evening so I could be used for sex.
Henry secretly knew that messages conveyed to targeted individuals during the 'behind-the-scenes' sex stuff meant more to people because then they psychologically interpreted and categorized personal experiences such as sex in with their memories of personal or family experiences. Thus the message became stored as more valuable since it wasn't strictly business. Henry said combining his messages with sex would store it in a different part of the brain, with the personal experiences being filed with more importance emotionally and so it would carry more weight or influence.
Usually arrangements for a sexual encounter with me were made secretly between Henry and the foreign guest. Then the guest and I would be limoed away somewhere to a hotel or taken to another place. But most of the people at the White House gathering were unaware this took place as we would all leave separately, and rendezvous at another location later on. Or, Henry would have a limo waiting and I would enter and wait. Usually I was put in the limo first and waited for the dignitary. Then we would spend a few hours or the whole night together, while I dropped a preprogrammed message at the perfect time to the leader. Then I was flown home.
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
