WASHINGTON -- Bill Clinton is an indefatigable competitor.

He was determined to bag the biggest book advance in history, bigger than the pope's, bigger than
Jack Welch's, bigger especially than the junior senator's from New York.

The former president even managed to snag the editorial services of Robert Gottlieb, the onetime New
Yorker editor and plastic-handbag aficionado who helped turn Katharine Graham's memoir into a
Pulitzer Prize-winning work of history — the very book that Hillary had held up as a model for her own bio.

The clever Mr. Clinton knew he could not get the big bucks for simply spouting a lot of earnest policy
palaver, as he did in his 1996 "Between Hope and History," reviewing lessons learned in his presidency
and offering his vision of opportunity, responsibility and community. The book tanked, and is out of
print. Used copies sell on Amazon.com for $1.48.

No, the only reason Sonny Mehta, the head of Knopf, was willing to pony up between $10 and $12
million was because Mr. Clinton and his Washington agent, Bob Barnett, were promising a "very
thorough and candid telling of his life." Read: hot Oval Office sex scenes with you-know-which highly
accommodating intern.

Sunday Morning Bill was going to have to let Saturday Night Bill make the book pitch. Put aside all
that opportunity, responsibility and community and promise some dish, splish and splash.

Mr. Mehta, who also broke a record when he gave the pope $8.5 mil in 1994, said that Monica
Lewinsky "did not come up in so many words" during the negotiations. But in giving the sinner several
million more than the saint, Knopf certainly would have required some assurance that the Seducer in
Chief would deliver the goods.

Although the papers reported that the ex-president presented no outline, I had leaked to me a copy of
the tantalizing glimpse Mr. Clinton gave Mr. Mehta of what he intends to divulge. The chapter is called
"How a Man Gets What He Really Wants." Here is the fragment in full:

"It happened one autumn evening in 1995, during the government shutdown. I was working all hours
on the budget mess. It was 24/7 all the way. The pressure was becoming too great to bear. The
Republicans were showing no signs of relenting.

"Whether I knew it or not, I was desperately in need of a human connection. Sooner or later, we were
bound to hook up. In our previous encounters, the tension was palpable and the feelings so intense you
could cut them with a knife. The very air around us crackled with emotion.

"In the middle of all the bleakness, the time seemed right for a special meeting, a quiet encounter
between two people caught in the maelstrom of Washington. I cleared my calendar and
double-checked to make sure Hillary was still in Boise. I told Betty Currie to take the night off. I killed
the harsh lights in my office and threw on `Aretha Sings the Blues.' I got rid of all that political stuff on
the coffee table and put out a few books that would get us past all that. I asked the steward to chill
some wine, bring in some cigars and make himself scarce. I had plans for this evening that were too
important to be interrupted. Everything seemed ready — oh, yes, I instructed the Secret Service to
usher my guest into my office without any fuss.

"We were an unlikely couple, I know. Our folie a deux in the crazy season of the budget impasse
probably raised eyebrows. But sometimes people who seem to have very little in common can
discover that they have a lot in common. Who cares that I was the president? I was also a man, and I
had needs, and my guest had needs, and we could understand each other.

"Over a pepperoni and cheese extra-thick crust, we could unwind and relate to each other's inner child,
sharing the journey from pudgy kid in a problem home to working to make the country a better place.

"So there we were, just a couple of misunderstood people with good hair and a gnawing desire for
attention and love and respect.

"Of course, I knew I was being manipulative, but I wanted what I wanted. Seduction is my skill. It
gives me pleasure to conquer people, to cause them to melt."

Here the enticing fragment ends.

This is what Sonny Mehta paid unprecedented millions for. Mr. Clinton and Mr. Barnett were wise to
omit to mention the name of the overemotional, overweight and melting object of Mr. Clinton's seduction.
It was Newt Gingrich.