He slipped on a condom from his end table without missing a beat. Holding me by the small of my back, slowly he began to enter me. Throbbing, working his waist. My eyes opened slightly and I could see, through the reflection in the mirror, his back muscles flexing as he sent chills through my body with every motion. It felt like he went deeper and deeper until I could no longer tell where he started or where I ended. He went so deep, he was penetrating places that had long since been untapped. By now I was unconscious with eroticism. The room was floating. He had altered my equilibrium as our positions flipped. Damon made my body do things that I never thought it could. Damn, he was good. Having landed, refueled, changed planes, and made multiple connections, I lay wrapped in his arms, intense in the moment.

“Damon,” I whispered huskily in a Toni Braxton baritone. “Damon,” involuntarily escaped from my lips. And again, “Damon, Damon…”

“Damon, I know you’re in there!!” came the high-pitched shrill voice, piercing through the front door. Not now. Oh God, please not now. Not in the midst of my Guinness Book of World Record –breaking multiple connection marathon.

“Damon!!!” The voice was followed by pounding, banging, knocking, and the continuous ringing of the doorbell.

“Oh, shit,” Damon said as his eyes sprang open.

“Damon, I know you can hear me!!” The pounding intensified.

“Who is that?”

“Janine,” he said, disgusted, shaking his head.

“Janine? The girl at the restaurant?”

“Yep.” Instantly, we had a sudden loss in cabin pressure.

“Damon, I know you in there. Is that my Jodeci CD? I know you ain’t playing my Jodeci CD!!?” Damon slowly pulled out as he grabbed his robe, looking disheveled.

“I thought she worked at the label.”

“She does. Well, sort of. She owns the label.”

“Owning the label and working at the label are not sort of the same. Tell her you have company. This is your apartment!”

“I can’t tell her that.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause it’s her apartment. I can’t afford all this shit.”

“You can afford a Hummer. You got a platinum American Express card!”

“Them shits is hers too.”

Imagine my head making a 360-degree turn.

“Damon, don’t make me break this door down.” She continued yelling, now kicking the door, hoping to break the frame or pop the latch from its chain.

“But, she had a ring on her finger. I thought she was married.”

“She is. I’m her booty call.”

“Damon, I know you ain’t got some ho up in there!”

“Who she calling a ho?”

“You! Shhh.”

“Shhh? I ain’t shhh’ing nothing! And how you gonna be somebody’s booty call?”

“I was your booty call. Why you trippin’?”

“Damon, I’ma have the police put a boot on that Hummer if you don’t open up this door!”