From the first chapter of Richard Stark’s The Hunter:
The office women looked at him and shivered. They knew he was a bastard, they knew his big hands were born to slap with, they knew his face would never break into a smile when he looked at a woman. They knew what he was, they thanked God for their husbands, and still they shivered. Because they knew how he would fall on a woman in the night. Like a tree.
Trouble is, all I can think of is that famous description of Nicholas Soames: making love to him was
like having a wardrobe fall on top of you with the key sticking out
Not sure I should say anything else…