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Now, I’m a tall, strapping girl who grew up wrestling two giant brothers. The butler informed us that Melania would be down momentarily, and it was time to resume the interview.I was still in shock and remained speechless as we both followed him to an outdoor patio overlooking the grounds.Earlier in my trip, I had tried to arrange a session at Mar-a-Lago’s spa for my chronic neck problem — the spa was part of a private resort separate from the Trump residence — but they were booked up.Trump had gotten wind of that before the interview and called himself, asking the top massage therapist if he would come in extra early to see me, as a favor to him.The happy anniversary story hit newsstands a week later and Donald left me a voicemail at work, thanking me. “The article was great and you’re great.” I asked to be taken off the Trump beat, and I never interviewed him again. I was quiet and smiled, telling her I’d missed her, and I squeezed little Barron’s foot. In time, I chalked it up to one of the hazards of a roller coaster ride of celebrity journalism: I’d danced barefoot in Cannes with John Travolta, sang with Paul Mc Cartney, talked about Bogie with Bacall, quoted Shakespeare with Brando and Prince Andrew yelled at me until I cried. I felt deep regret for not speaking out at the time.A few months later, I saw Trump at the memorial service of a mutual friend, designer Oleg Cassini. That winter, I actually bumped into Melania on Fifth Avenue, in front of Trump Tower as she walked into the building, carrying baby Barron. What if he had done worse to other female reporters at the magazine since then because I hadn’t warned them? Four years after the Trump incident, I left the magazine to write screenplays and books — a few are bestsellers.
How could the actions of one man make me feel so utterly violated? The butler left us, and I fumbled with my tape recorder. “You know we’re going to have an affair, don’t you? We’re going to have an affair, I’m telling you.” He also referenced the infamous cover of the Melania walked in just then, serene and glowing.
There is no merit or veracity to this fabricated story.” What follows is Stoynoff’s account.