Hier ein Auszug aus dem Buch!

And I felt the same way about him. I knew who Elvis Presley was, of course, because he was famous, and so I knew trivial things about him that I’d read in magazines. But beyond that, on a visceral level, I knew what was important to him, because it was also what was important to me. Elvis leaned in and kissed me, and the fullness, tenderness, and sweetness of his absolutely perfect lips were like kissing marshmallows. Seriously, if you want to know what it was like to kiss Elvis, get the biggest, puffiest marshmallows you can find and press a few of them against your lips, because his lips really were that sweet and soft. He was the most mesmerizing kisser, so very sensual and intense. So, yeah, it was a pretty staggering first kiss, intoxicating to the point that neither of us seemed to mind that we were surrounded by people in the theater. We were oblivious to everything and everyone. And all my pious propriety as Miss Tennessee Universe went out the side door of that theater and up in smoke. Those first kisses went on and on, and then he started nuzzling me, and kissing me on the neck, and whispering sweet everythings to me, like, “Where have you been all my life?” To which I answered: “Umm, growing up, I’d have to say.” He laughed out loud. “I’ve been looking for someone like you, honey,” he continued. In fact, I have no idea what movie we saw. It was a double feature, and yet it wasn’t nearly long enough for me. I never wanted that night to end. I’m sure the movie was something about karate, or maybe a Blaxploitation film, because Elvis loved movies like that, movies like Across 110th Street with Anthony Quinn and Yaphet Kotto, which was released later that year. And as I soon came to find out, when Elvis was in the building, we always did what Elvis loved.
Because I knew he’d been married, I felt it was important for me to be honest with him about my own romantic history.
“I know about your past relationships,” I said. “I know you dated Anita Wood. I know you were married. I know you dated Ann-Margret and almost married her, and that you were in love with her. Do you want to know anything about any of my boyfriends?”
“Oh no, oh hell no,” he said, almost physically recoiling at the thought. “Don’t go any further. Don’t say another word. I don’t ever want to hear about anybody that you ever dated, anybody that you ever kissed, anybody that you ever liked. I don’t want to know. Don’t ever, ever, ever tell me about a guy that you think is handsome. Don’t ever mention a guy that you think is good looking, or a guy that you dated in high school or college. I don’t want to know anything about it. I’m a really jealous motherfucker. I don’t ever want to see you looking at another man. I don’t ever want to see you talk about another man. I want to know you’re mine and all mine.”
I was happy to reassure him, and yet, at the same time, I couldn’t help but be amazed by his reaction. Gosh, to be the greatest sex symbol in the world, the man that every woman wants to be with, and yet he’s so insecure he can’t stand to hear about anybody I ever dated.
But the more I got to know Elvis, the more I came to understand that this was just one
The first year of the four and half years we would share, we were together twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, other than a few short trips he took to Thunderbird Jewelers in Las Vegas to buy presents for me, which he did frequently.
One day, he gave me a ring with a big, beautiful blue diamond surrounded by other, smaller white diamonds.
“Honey, I got this for you,” he said.
“Why?” I asked. “It’s not my birthday. It’s not Valentine’s Day. It’s not anything.”
“It’s Tuesday, and I love you,” he said.
That’s the kind of romantic guy he was, generous with compliments, always making me feel appreciated and loved.
If he was in the shower, he had me talk to him from outside the curtain as the steam wafted the scent of his Neutrogena soap into the bathroom around me. We slept, woke, ate, read, laughed, and loved together, as if we were all either of us needed in the whole wide world.
Once his run of shows began, our day’s activities shifted to accommodate his needs as a performer. When we got up in the afternoon, he began getting ready for his shows with a routine he’d perfected by this point in his career. This meant steps to care for his voice, including a saltwater nasal douche to clear out his nasal passages, followed by all of these god-awful sounds, and spewing and spitting. It wasn’t the most romantic or attractive thing in the world, but he applied himself to his preparations with special attention. He also sometimes took shots to dry up mucus, and in Vegas, we slept with a humidifier. Elvis felt that he had been graced with a God-given talent; that God had imbued him with his incredible, incomparable gift, and he felt a great responsibility to maintain what he had been given, caring for his voice in a way that he did not employ with his body.
He also took steps to enhance his appearance, including his application of a touch of eyebrow pencil because his eyebrows were not as dark as one might have thought.


Source
Thompson, Linda. A Little Thing Called Life: On Loving Elvis Presley, Bruce Jenner, and Songs in Between (Kindle Locations 1050-1065). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.