“I was in France,” Curtis told me, not specifying the year. “I’m at the pissoir, and this Frenchman’s beside me. The fellow looks down” — and here, so does Curtis, painting the picture with those near-obscene eyes of his — “and he says, ‘Was that inside Marilyn Monroe?’ And I say, ‘Yes, yes it was.’ And he says, ‘May I touch it?’ And I said, ‘No, you may not.’”