Second paragraph of third chapter:
I wake to the familiar sound of the key, turning gently in the lock, a three-phase sound, scrape-scrape-click. It is a brass key tied with a pink silk tassel, carried by a member of our domestic staff. She knocks discreetly at my door and says, ‘Good morning, Arthur,’ without any emotion. She doesn’t enter the room. I know what the key looks like because she wears it at all times on her belt. It hangs there sweetly, next to her electroshock gun.
Very crude feminist satire (or something). Didn’t like it much. You can get it here.