All too literally speaking, an unsightly story about a sick creep who in between visits to his therapist prowls through the subways of New York cutting out the eyes on a poster of a beautiful girl. Even when they're collected and strewn on his bed like confetti, he finds he's still not a man and so he turns to the real thing -- assaulting five hookers and leaving them socketlessly cold and dead. If this weren't enough, which surely it is, there's the thing between Al Bryce, police captain on the vice squad, and the appetent hooker Penny whom he spares when she's first booked. In time she finds him more than just a middle-aged dirty old man with an inconsolable loneliness (after the cancer death of his wife) and sexual hunger. In spite of the romantic concession at the close, one feels that Mr. Weill has written this for other reasons: the hardest to explain is his use of ""the heavyset man"" thirteen times in an introductory two pages; the hardest to gainsay is his just as deliberate gift of gag.