A descriptive paragraph she had typed onto final draft the day before from her husband's current masterpiece raced sensually through Beth Ann Durke's young mind as she watched her handsome neighbor leave his expensive home across Tasman Drive and walk with a smooth, athletic grace toward his three-car garage. Mmmm, he did! He literally radiated virility! What had Jay entitled the book? HER LUSTY NEIGHBOR? Yes, that was it… and very fitting, or so it would seem. She remembered the exact passage:

He was tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, the possessor of a wealthy crop of black hair which was worn in fashionable masculine shagginess to the nape of his neck. Only slight tinges of grey brushed his temples; flecks of a similar color floated about in his lecherous dark eyes. Neighborhood wives, the promiscuous young girls who worked for him, in fact, women in general who happened to lay eye on him, couldn't help but secretly ask themselves the same erotic question. With such a handsome face and built, could he possibly be as good in bed as he physically suggested? In fact, just how big and enduring was it… that unknown quantity he had to be superbly endowed with?

Yes, the intrigued, blonde wife lustfully imagined as she stood behind the front room drapes admiring Stan Wilson, he just had to be masterfully blessed with a large penis. She watched him back the black Continental from the garage, then saw his vivacious Sara come running from the house in a smart looking wrapper and matching gold slippers to bestow a day-lasting kiss on him through the lowered car window. With what Beth had come to regard as almost a neighborhood tradition, Sara Wilson carried on a simpering flourish of bye-byes and dainty swipes at her long, coal-black hair, then demurely clutched at the expanded bosom of her attractive robe until he was into the street and gone.