After having written his heart out all over his sleeve in Farewell, Frank Merriwell, Zuckerman has conceived a bisexual (Robbins-Susann) story of four middle-aged women in L.A. whose lives are in total disarray and have become potato peelers (we're not sure whether this is in reference to their Irish origins or their lady-of-the-evening activities). On the first page, three of them appear -- in one paragraph -- dressed by Saks, Loehmann's and I. Magnin. They seem to do better without any apparel -- whether it's the European Ilona, or Joan who wants a baby (only husband Frank doesn't seem to be able to ""cut the mustard""), or Delores ""a latent sapphist,"" or primarily Sally -- Sally who escapes from her rotten husband to the rich Roy Sutter only to face the by no means latent incestuous reparations of her son. . . . Shamelessly overt frottage which might even massage you the wrong way.