As Momma would say, he made me moist.
That was pretty much the last public exposure of any kind that Atkins would have for a long time.
Nope, he let it all hang out, resting on the edge of a grand piano, inexplicably standing on a spiral staircase, looking thoughtfully out a bay window, jauntily leaning on a candelabra, and posing on the obligatory animal-skin rug.