John Crace reduces the yachts and murders art-world bonkbuster to a pert 600 words
If you asked how it began, I would have to say it was when I noticed that 50 Shades of Grey had sold millions of copies without having any recognisable plot. As I sat at my desk in the top London auction house where I worked as an assistant curator, it occurred to me that if I could combine having lots of sex with some action, then I might be on to a winner.
After a day in which I had yet again been persecuted for being working class, I was ready for some action. So when I bumped into an old school friend, Leanne, on my way home and she invited me to join her as an escort at the Gstaad Club in the evenings, I had little hesitation in accepting. Cue long digression about how much I like fucking complete strangers.
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