NOTHING BLACK BUT A CADILLAC is now available to adult readers who like an entertaining, ribald sexual comedy that incorporates laughter and lust in a cosmopolitan mix. Like Terry Southern's 'Candy' or Robert Gover's 'One Hundred Dollar Misunderstanding' before it, Nothing Black But A Cadillac is a raucous romp of a book, written to both titillate the senses, tickle the funny bone and help the reader try on new sizes and styles of experiences. The protagonist, Joady Sinclair is a smart ass, twenty something mulatto dude who, after completing an MA in English Lit. in Vancouver, Canada, decides to visit San Francisco and more or less look for work. Propelled into a wild Friday night by Art Stevens of The Western Personnel Employment Agency on Mission Street, (the old Honkey Married Escapee who was supposed to be finding him a job), Joady has a series of sexcapades with a willing array of beautiful females that thrusts him through the smooth shank of the evening into the sweaty midnight hour and onto the early shivering morning when he ends up tired and tuckered, (and buck naked), hiding from both friend and foe at the top of Coit Tower as the kindly sun rises over The City and tries unsuccessfully to lay a softening pale yellow patina on his long hard dark night of coitus. Left behind him like a semi sordid and just slightly soiled array of novelty color condoms - are a sequence of all too temporary trysts -- in the Haight Ashbury and Fillmore Districts -- across the thankfully blanketing fog of Golden Gate Bridge -- at the No Name Bar in Sausalito (where he now will always be recognized but not in a nice way) -- at the well hidden but just down the block gender bending In and Out Club -- onboard a hundred and twenty foot luxury sailing yacht that has been inadvertently set on fire by an overweight Polynesian boy toy competing with Joady for the love of the widow owner and her two nubile Abel and Caine type daughters -- hanging onto a runaway cable car with a nearsighted young woman who has a mortal fear of abandonment -- and at the Purple Pussy, a 'cum together' German owned North Shore after hours dance club that goes a little Ueber Alles crazy near the end of the crowd frolic fun - all of them potentially forming a career destroying historical detritus of what had started out as a perfectly harmless boys' night out over a couple of beers. Luckily for our willingly overused and abused and au naturel hero, as he wearily limps out of Coit Tower to meet his fate 'both heads on' so to speak, help arrives - but not in the way he was expecting, or even looking forward to. But, as always, Joady takes on the challenge.