One night at the Privilege in Paris I was talking to a Vogue cover girl and said, “My friend really likes you.”
“Vonelli?”
“Yes.” The bearded art dealer made me laugh and I like that in anyone.
“Not a chance.” Brigitte was nicknamed Cruella. She had broken many hearts, but I was immune to her allure. We lived together on the Ile St. Louis. If I fell victim to her succubi, I would be living under a bridge by the Seine.
“That’s too bad.” My girlfriend was a 16 yo Puerto Rican/French model.
“Why?”
“Because Vonelli has the biggest penis I’ve ever seen on a white man.”
“Really?”
“A real long prong.”
Five minutes later the two of them left the disco as a testament to the power of words quenching desire.
I heard them at it that night and many more.
Neither of them ever mentioned my claim about the Vonelli organ.
As I said I was a good wingman.
Both for women and men.