David and Dorian St. Clair, brother and sister, heirs to a fabulous hotel dynasty. Young, proud, and beautiful, the world was theirs for the taking, and no one and nothing could ever come between them. No one except a handsome, daring, talented, and ambitious young artist named Alan Conway. The three of them came together in a dazzling time of discovery and desire that led them from the gold coast of Long Island to a Hollywood lotus land, from San Francisco crash pads to legendary East Village parties, from swinging London to Paris at its most perverse. They swore they'd make this magical moment in their lives last forever, unable to foresee the unthinkable tragedy and scandal that would spell the ens of - The St. Clair Summer.
I will always remember the name of this book. When I was almost 11 years old we went to my uncle's house for Thanksgiving, and I was sleeping in one of my older cousin's rooms. I saw this paperback on her bookshelf, and I took it (which is strange in itself, because it's the only specific time I can remember stealing something). I read it in secret over the next week, thankfully not understanding most of what happened. I remember a scene where the heroine was swimming and took her top off in front of guests. I remember one of the characters was homosexual, which at the time I was clueless about. I didn't like the book at all, but I was fascinated by my glimpse into naughty grown-up stories. I kept the paperback for several years until at about 14 - in a fit of righteous anger - I tore the book to bits to assuage my guilt!