I Can’t With Desi Pt. 6


Thursday morning. 7am. Desi’s vicious crack is still stinging but Fashion Week has begun and I’m in the car, waiting on Nova. I’ll see her to the first show today. After that she’s on her own. Suddenly, the red Ferrari roars up next to the towncar and blocks a lane of traffic in front of the hotel. Desi leaps out from the driver’s seat. I let my window down. “Why didn’t you tell me??” he shouts. “Why didn’t you tell me that Nova is a man!!” I never stop scrolling through the messages on my phone. Very cool and casual.“What difference does it make to you?” I ask. But he’s been duped, he’s been played, and somehow he’s blaming me. He reaches inside the window and slaps at my hands, knocking my phone away. “I don’t like getting a handful of cock when I reach between a woman’s legs! Okay??” 

It’s not the first time this crazy Spaniard has snapped on me. And of course he’ll apologize. He always does. But the son-of-a-bitch hurt my feelings. And this time only jewelry can make it better.

Winona is wearing Carolina Herrera


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