At first, this is what Adam said

Thinking about women was just about what was left for old Mr. Me. I didn’t fuck them anymore, or so few of them, and so far apart. Considering the billions of them on this planet, in all truth, I’m a loser. Law of big numbers. What’s wrong with me?

I wished I could sometime chance to gaze at a woman’s naked body. I don’t know anything more beautiful.

Adam says: I need a contract (chapter II)

Yes, where I lived and been living, there are pictures of nude women all over the place. Ads full screen for whatever product, movies, Internet, even good old magazines with posters for good old boys’ lockers. But all you get out of those are just glimpses. Shy and furtive glimpses for most. Pictures, 2D, there’s no exchange, no giving. Nudy bars are just sad and a strip tease is just that, a tease, and that’s already a defeat. And there’s always a sale somewhere and you’ll go home and feel worse than you did coming in.

Adam’s counting his blessings (chapter III)

I decided to hire three women to live with old Mr. Me, in this warm South Eastern Asian country, by the ocean. Save for a bit of cooking and stuff, their job would mostly be to be walking around the house all day in the nude. Nurses? Well, not quite yet. Anyway, for such a job, and as employees, these three women cannot be idiots and have to know what they’re doing. So there had to be a contract between them and me.

Adam takes that door and burns it in hell (chapter IV)

So old Mr. Me went down south to see my new house. In this place that would finally totally be mine, I didn’t want doors. I wanted all rooms open. All my life, in my Christian occidental culture, there were doors and those were closed: for security, for morale, for secrets, for paranoia. Doors for the kitchen, for the pen, for the bathrooms, the washrooms, the kids’ rooms, the master bedroom with doors on the closets, doors for the garage, for the safe, for the attic, for the cave. Over time, from the time you’re born a guilty occidental asshole, those physical doors become mental doors, really.

Adam says to himself: now that’s an upset (chapter V)

I have now been spending a week in my new place by the ocean, waiting for it to be ready for my guests. Indeed, I intend to hire three women to live naked around old Mr. Me so, when I die, the last thing I see is a gift of beauty, at least to my eyes. Yes I could buy paintings and sculptures but those don’t sweat and, in Southeast Asia, it’s warm all the time, often hot.