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384 pages, Paperback
First published November 1, 2006
Be wry, I admonished myself. Be bland. Think David Niven.But the bulk of it is likely to affect that funny bone that just wants to be tickled:
Having never before heard a sexy megastar compare me favorably to his dashing signature role, I lost all grip on my suavity and giggled like a chorus boy being tickled by Bernadette Peters.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Bajour," said Gilbert in his lowest register. His intent, I suppose, was to convey masculine authority but it just made him sound like Bea Arthur.
Gilbert, as a rule, used money the way women used pepper spray; he liked having some handy but only produced it when physically threatened.
The promise that had simmered in Stephen's gaze had, of course, been firmly predicated on my persuading Lily not to tell the world of his teenage discovery that strong, hairy thighs make swell earmuffs.
There was Sonia, of course, her girth encased in a pin-striped black pantsuit that made her look like one of the gangsters in an all-lesbian 'Kiss Me, Kate'.