Oh my God, that’s right. I just had sex with Damon and I was going to see Curtis. What if he could tell what I had done? What if he called on one of the prophetic gifts of the spirits? Like Mary Magdalene, the woman with the issue of blood, or Tammy Faye Bakker, I would be outcast, shamed. The entire visit ruined. I had to do something fast.

Fearing that I might still carry the scent of sin, I slipped into the airport’s ladies room, pulled my perfume out of my rolling bag, and squirted Chanel No. 5 on my neck, my arms, under my arms, my calves, and yes girls, sadly enough, I squirted there too. Owwwwch! My God, that stung.

While heading toward the gate for Flight 986 with non-stop service to Atlanta, I fanned my perfume hoping I hadn’t over-sprayed in my haste. I boarded, gathered myself, and walked slowly down the aisle.

“Hello, welcome aboard. Welcome aboard, hello.” Even though I wasn’t working the flight, it was in my blood to serve and since I was bumming a ride, I figured it was the least I could do.

Still turning heads, I was working the aisle, wearing a Donna Karan two-piece caramel-colored skirt set, with a cream-colored top showing just enough cleavage, and the skirt just enough leg. It was the perfect outfit for the very conservative Curtis.

Scanning, scanning, walking, scanning—Bingo. There he was. Seated in 10C. Wearing a dark blue narrow-brimmed hat, a navy blue suit with powder blue pinstripes, a crisp baby blue shirt, powder blue silk handkerchief, a powder blue tie, powder blue crocodile belt, and matching powder blue gators. A graduate of the Steve Harvey school of fashion, Curtis was Midwest sharp with a hint of Southern charm. The outfit wasn’t exactly suited for my Northern tastes, but fashion was something that could be easily fixed, no doubt after the engagement.

Silently, I recited the Twenty-Third Psalm and what few disconnected passages of inspiration I still remembered. I wanted to at least appear to be in a state of Holy Communion.

“Excuse me, would you like me to help you with your coat?”

“Yes ma’am, I most certainly…”

For a moment, Curtis was at a loss for words. His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as his glasses lowered, his Bible closed shut, and softly, calmly he spoke as the spirit of God gave utterance.

“Eyes have not seen, ears have not heard, neither has it entered into the hearts of man, the good things that God has in store for them that love Him.”

He panned my body from head to toe and then he continued.