Another Scoop Of Caviar, Please
May, 1997
I press a button. A smiling babe wafts over to me, eyebrow arched in subservient query."Do you have any more éclairs?" I ask."As many as you want," she says in such a warm, snugly voice that I think she is my wonderful beloved nanny. She gives me three more éclairs and some cozy jammies, fat terrycloth socks and a blanket."You're putting those pajamas on?" asks Mr. Husband, my spouse and gadfly. "Nobody else is putting them on.""Of course I'm putting...
