The Polka Dot Nude (1989)
“We entered into a hushed atmosphere, the only sound the whisper of an air conditioner purring softly. A sweep of brown marble hallway stretched toward the horizon, terminating in a shattered statue of some Greek god, mounted on a big pedestal. I had the uncomfortable feeling of being in someone else’s church, not knowing quite what was expected of me. Maybe I should genuflect, or bless myself. I looked uncertainly at Brad, who had gone on to another archway and was waiting for me. He was very m...uch at home, a full-fledged member of this temple to mammon. I waded through a Persian rug, eyes darting hither and thither to admire the room’s appointments. Even with one rug and the Barcelona chair missing, the place was fully furnished. Only the apartment’s vast dimensions saved it from being overcrowded.
Brad hadn’t become a connoisseur of art at the gallery without some preparation. If the long-necked, red-haired beauty with the black ellipses for eyes wasn’t a genuine Modigliani, she was a better copy than even Rosalie could do.MoreLess
Brad hadn’t become a connoisseur of art at the gallery without some preparation. If the long-necked, red-haired beauty with the black ellipses for eyes wasn’t a genuine Modigliani, she was a better copy than even Rosalie could do.MoreLess
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