The Story of O, P, Q, R ...

The Marquis de Sade rather liked sex in dungeons. Henry Miller protagonists were prone to phone booths. In Chile, patrons of the Hotel Valdivia can indulge their fantasies, without being either damp or cramped.

Situated in a rundown commercial section of Santiago, the Valdivia appears ordinary enough from the outside. It is the interior, with its 54 varied, exotic suites designed by Architect Daniel Zamudio and the hotel's owner Guillermo Mella, that distinguishes the place from other quickie havens. Says Owner Mella: "There is poetry here." There is also discretion. Cars glide quietly through a back gate, park in a row of partitioned stalls. A middle-aged matron in a white nurse's uniform greets the couple, leads them down a corridor lined with a rock garden and waterfalls and on to the illusion of their choice.

Hammock and Hatch. The selection is staggering. There is the Cave, a dim-gray cavern carpeted in cowhide, furnished with stalactites, stalagmites and a massive bed that stands 80 feet from the door. For Fanatics there is also a miniature petrified forest in which to frolic. The Round Room, designed without a single corner, features a circular bed with translucent chiffon panels above. At the pull of a silken rope, the panels part, revealing a skylight view of the stars. The Polynesian Room offers a ten-foot hammock, the Arabian Room a floor-level bed surrounded by mirrors and 1,001 pillows, and the Psychedelic Room, decorated in screaming reds and oranges, is equipped for light shows.

Entrance to the Special Suite is through a submarine-style hatchway. Metal sculpture adorns the antechamber; steppingstones lead across a pool and into a room equipped only with a massive rubber tree. After that, the fire-red bedroom is almost a letdown.

With music piped into air the suites, plus room service (multilingual waitresses bring the drinks), the accommodations are surprisingly low priced--from $5 to $10. The secret is volume. Most of the rooms are occupied by three different couples a day: the lunch bunch, the after-work crowd and the overnighters. Honeymooners sometimes turn up, as well as old marrieds anxious for a night away from the kids or the in-laws; Santiago has a housing shortage, and few apartments allow much privacy. But 90% of the patrons are young, single Chileans, for whom a bachelor flat is an impossible luxury. For them, only the Valdivia and less elegant places like it afford an indoor liaison.

Auto Parts. Mella and Zamudio see nothing immoral in their operation. "People must go somewhere," shrugs Zamudio. "If they don't come here, they will go someplace dirty. What we are trying to do is give clean sex, comfortable sex, beautiful sex." Also nostalgic sex. Currently under construction is the Automobile Room. There, a 1939 DKW convertible will serve as a base for the bed. The room will be strewn with auto parts, hung with racing photos under a system of flashing strobe lights --to give the effect of speed. "Everyone likes to remember the things he did with girls in cars," says Zamudio. "Ah, yes, how I remember those days."

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