Mick] was just playing the little imp that night, running around and causing havoc with all the women there, flirting with everyone endlessly. As soon as someone’s boyfriend would turn around, he’d go over and start in on them.... He was just going around and starting trouble. He thought nothing of having a bonk with someone in a bathroom, one of his favorite places for a quickie.
Mick flirted with me unbelievably and told me I was pretty and that I should be with him and not Todd. But Mick says that to all the girls. He’s like the little pixie who runs around causing trouble with all the females, and that’s what I love about him - his boldness.... He was actually being boyish and shy and charming.
He also kept telling Todd what a great ass he had.
"God, Todd Rundgren, you've got a great ass," he'd say, which was absolutely true, this being the height of tight-as-bejesus pants, which left nothing to the imagination.
As I got to see a lot of him, I discovered that private Mick was just what I thought he would be: brilliant, articulate, and very sane - in control of his mind and body and extremely charismatic and powerful. Furthermore, his truly international penis sported itself in trousers better than any other penis I have ever known. Above all, he was fun. He’d come up behind me at a party when I didn’t know he was there and whisper, “I’d come to your house.” He was charming....
Mick demanded a certain chic of his women. Before we went out, if he didn’t like what I was wearing, he would send me back to put on another outfit. He always kidded me about my platform shoes. If you had a dress and you couldn’t find the right shoes to go with it, you called Mick. He bought me dresses, flowers, and expensive perfumes. He would fly me to meet him on his private plane. He would think nothing of spending five hundred dollars for wine at dinner. But he also spent hours looking for bargains. Mick’s a genius with skin. He always knew what creams to use, and he often shared his beauty products with me. He’d say, “Let me look at that, Bebe,” and then he’d produce a jar and start massaging the contents into my skin. He told me how to steam my face, what herbs to use. No woman on earth knows more about cosmetics than Mick does.
I was always very combative, so he respected me. He liked independent women.
[Mick] would keep me up all night sometimes. He’d be chattering all night, and I’d be tired. He played all kinds of games. He’d tap me on my shoulder; I’d turn and he’d be over there. I felt like I was hanging out with a little prankster. Finally, I would be reduced to pleading. “Please, let me go to sleep now. Let me tell you one more time how sexy that is, but then I’m going to bed,” I’d say. Sometimes, Mick would put on my underwear and come dancing across the room. Why do all Englishmen want to wear your underwear? ... But my underwear was usually too small for their cocks.
Rebel Heart - Bebe Buell