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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Monday, 2 November 1931
Called on Max Brüning (Also Dr Ernst Schertel—writes vaguely on Magic—bad novel with sham sex-appeal. Played really brilliant chess.) a sort of inferior Dix or Rops, with a studio imitating well enough an Oriental junkshop. He gave us lots of bad cognac. We went crazy. Instantly we got home I got down on S.W. [Scarlet Woman—Bertha Busch] She pissed gallons—we tore off our clothes and fucked and fucked and fucked. She tore my lips and my tongue—the blood streamed all over her face. We fucked. And suddenly she got a jealous fit about 3 cheap whores at Brünings and I strangled her—
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