Eventually, we found our way back to her "place" as she called it, the door hanging loosely on hinges long beyond repair, but she swallowed up my surroundings with her presence. Once off the street, at the foot of a dark, narrow staircase, my hand found hers and a moment later we were locked together, the taste of her cigarettes in my mouth, my eyes exploding. Her back arched in my arms as I covered her with my mouth... then her hand was again in mine, pulling me up the staircase toward the mystery.

Beyond the door was a long, narrow room, two windows on one side, a bookcase from floor to ceiling in the back, and what I assumed were her belongings: a mattress, a boombox with a pool of CDs around it, and a few well-worn paperbacks shoved between the bed and the wall. She pulled me through the door by both hands, her eyes burning into me, then she flicked on the only light-- a single blue bulb in the ceiling.

She motioned me to sit on the edge of the bed, and produced a small glass pipe from the folds of her clothing. Squatting and staring into my eyes, she packed up a bowl, handed it to me, and swiveled to look at the boombox. Between the bottom of her blouse and the top of her pants was a swath of smooth skin covered with fine hairs, I was still thinking about them when the music started.

I glanced at the jewel case she'd thrown down with the rest and saw that it was Morcheeba's Who Can You Trust?. Just as Skye Edwards began to croon, "Sometimes I get up feelin' good/ But greed gets me down," she stood up, turned to face me and began unbuttoning her blouse. I first saw her nipples, black in the blueness of that barren room, as Skye sung with molasses richness: "Good vibrations that we make will come bouncing back." I felt her nakedness in my arms as Skye told me, "Soak up Wisdom all year long/ And then take action." My mouth was wandering along the mountains and valleys of her purple skin as Skye spoke to me: "Things have changed this time around/ I'm on the rocks and lookin' down/ And I can't see/ For all the darkness 'round here." I began to spin deep into the vortex of her flesh, her soul, heart and darkest eyes, as Skye soundtracked the event to its ultimate climax.

Upon the morn, she was gone and the sun shone brightly into her room. I gathered my clothes around me and found my way out, the blisteringly bright sun torturing the dark memories of night. I held my collar as I took the city bus back, and thought about both Skye and my princess bride. Deep down, I knew the music was expressing something deep-- the intersection between the modern urban paranoia of her flat and the pure undiluted pleasure of her voice, skin and arms. Sex energized with dark fears. Slow beats mirroring her heartbeat. Jazzy guitars and sax recalling. Electro touches forecasting. Morcheeba, simply happening.