The unbelievably fashionable and stylish sylph that was Mélisande became an acquaintance through Neal. She was a friend he made in childhood, and we had a similar taste for personal flair.

When we first met, Neal and I had organised and executed a successful business trip in the early 90s. We met Alexander, a first-generation NewYorCuban, a fantastic ex-buyer for a prestigious women's retailer. Success for our business now had a showroom on 5th Avenue.

it was slightly cold outside in the Autumn of 1990 and Neal asked: “Would you like to meet my friend Mélisande? I've known her since forever. You'll like her.” I did. She met us at a small restaurant in the Midtown section of Manhattan, and our modest budget allowed only prix fixe dinners. She entered the restaurant in what I thought was a vintage Balenciaga-inspired black A-line wool melton car coat over –then trendy latex tights tucked into architectural blood red conical-heeled booties, exquisite makeup and forties-styled mid-neck length brown hair with blue highlights. Fabulous!

We had a lovely dinner of Veal Piccatta and vowed to be in touch after Neal and I returned to Miami. She did. What Neal didn't share with me was that Mélisande was Joanne, an exotic dancer. I was well and proper intrigued.

She met us on Miami Beach for a summer. I loved that she would betray Neal by provoking me sexually. However, I was committed; couldn't cheat on one of my few ex-bisexual comrades.

After Neal and I ended, she took Neal's side of our relationship. Didn’t see, nor did I know about her again until I found Neal on LoveBook decades later and asked about her. She had become a famous DJ. Excellent for her. I had also found Helmut online, but everyone from that part of my life had drifted away from me successfully.