Word: slut
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...young man doesn't have to look far. The morning after his first night with the widow, she is grotesquely murdered by the vengeful villagers. Some clays later, as Zorba's silly old slut lies dying, bestial peasants burst into her house and strip it while she lies weakly watching, strip it to the walls and leave her there alone with nothing but a bed to die on. And at the climax of the film the mine and all the money the young man has sunk in it go smash in one catastrophic afternoon...
...years as fashion columnist for the London Observer, Katharine Whitehorn, 35, may have permanently revised the British notion of what a slut really is. To the uninitiated, a slut may remain a woman of easy virtue. But the dictionary's first definition is "a slovenly woman; a slattern," and that's the one the Observer's Whitehorn also likes. She asks: "Have you ever taken anything out of the dirty-clothes basket because it had become, relatively, the cleaner thing? Changed stockings in a taxi? Could you try on clothes in any shop, any time, without worrying...
...easy to blame it for exaggerating, if not creating the scandal by buying up "confessions" right and left at fabulous prices. The People, which had lost Christine Keeler's story in the bidding with its rival, News of the World, last week attacked Christine under the banner SHAMELESS SLUT...
Lester Goran writes about the widow Light, gossiping as if he were sitting on a sidewalk bench, killing time on a summer night. As in his fine first novel. The Paratrooper of Mechanic Avenue, Goran recreates slumside Pittsburgh with superbly detailed tessellations of anecdote. An itchy slut of a woman up on the third floor sings Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree with her soldier friends and kicks them all out just before her husband gets back from his war-worker job at midnight. Mrs. Bagley from the other side of the garbage court passes the word that...
...color in the muddled crowd: a pretty girl in tight blue pants runs at top speed through the Paris square and disappears. Her passage stirs eddies of emotion. For a traffic policeman boredom dissipates briefly; he lusts sharply and happily. A woman sneers contemptuously; obviously the girl is a slut, because quite apparently she is wearing no brassiere. A plainclothes detective on a stake-out forgets his ambush to gawk; an aging homosexual glances at the girl in envy; a bookstore owner obsessed with the past history of this quarter of Paris barely sees the girl as she passes before...