Maybe we could listen to something more—”“Up to date?”“Y’know, more hip-hop, more rap, more rhythm and blues, more jazz.”“Oh, you mean...like your people’s music.”“It’s not just my people’s music,” he sighed. “It’s a lot more than just black music. It’s music for everyone. Would you mind if I changed the station?”“Go ahead,” she said as she headed towards the Turnpike.He tuned the radio to a song that she had heard many times before. It was a popular hip-hop tune.“See? Now this is hip-hop. You. However, today is about quite the opposite mood: one of delicious anticipation, a slow-building yearning, and the moment of sweet surrender to another.I hear a merry mischievous reply to my welcome, that she will be back in a moment, called out as her heels sound on the stairs. There is quick movement above me in our bedroom, then the sounds of a toilet flushing and running water from the bathroom. I know that soon she will descend, the goddess of love in her chariot of fire, and a warm glow. More

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