To encourage him she turned on her side. A gambit she could always count on - the smooth shape of her buttocks, their crème de Chantilly whiteness. He always laughed when she offered herself this way, and put out his big, delicate hands. Something of a tough guy he really was, and particularly with age distortion - the wrecked Picasso Silenus reaching towards the nude beauty.

— saul bellow, “what kind of day did you have?”