sǝlɔᴉuoɹɥƆ

So Close, Yet So Far

Chapter Seven

Paisley Park

Chanhassen, Minnesota

We're back in the studio after three days of laying around. It's good that he does this sometimes because we both can get so neglectful of our mental health. But now the break is over, and it's time to get to work.

I seat myself opposite him at the soundboard and pick up his guitar. I know if I was anyone else, I would be in a coma just for touching it, but I'm that bitch, so I get that privilege. It's a beautiful purple Les Paul made especially for him. I pluck the strings a little before looking back at him.

He takes the guitar back and pulls me closer until we are inches apart. I know this act all too well. He likes to play mind games. I cross my eyes to make him lose concentration momentarily. Grinning, he grabs the guitar from me and starts playing a bomb-ass tune.

"I love that," I say, closing my eyes to feel the chords being strung by his talented fingers.

After a few minutes, he finishes, and I open my eyes to see him grinning at me. "I knew you'd like it. In all the years we've worked together, and all the songs we recorded, this one feels like you do. It's special. I even have it already recorded and ready for you."

"You said all music is special when it comes from your heart," I tease him.

He shakes his head. "Mama, you have one good memory. What I mean is I've never felt a song like I could feel the human. This one makes me feel that. Now write some lyrics before I record it myself and name it For the Love of Bibi."

I leave, knowing better than to argue. Once he gets excited about a song, there's no stopping him. "Okay, Spud, play it for me again."

An Hour Later

"Okay, I think I got it this time," I tell him after writing and erasing many times, much to his annoyance.

He hates it when I take forever with lyrics. Insert eye roll and sarcastic comment: Well, excuse me for not being able to come up with a masterpiece on the spot.

It's frustrating, but with his preciseness and my need to be perfect, we mesh well together.

Prince plays back the tune for me on the soundboard, and I sing the first verse.

" Don't need permission. Made my decision to test my limits! Cuz it's my business God as my witness start what I finished! Don't need no hold up, taking control of this kind of moment! I'm locked and loaded, completely Focused, my mind is open.Something bout you makes me feel like a dangerous woman. Something bout you makes me want to do things that I shouldn't- " 

 He stops the tape and looks at me intensely. " Get in the booth. "

Five Hours Later 

The song is now completely finished. When I say this man is not playing around. The music speaks to him and the lyrics turn him on. In other words, a very volatile situation. After wrapping it up he makes a beeline out of the studio. Heel clacking furious in his wake. If his reaction to my lyrics isn't obvious enough, the erection I saw as he was hurrying past confirms everything. I wait a minute before taking my shoes off and padding my way to the elevator. Putting the date we met into the dial pad, I wait to be taken to the apartment inside of Paisley. The common areas are empty so I head to his bedroom.

I arrive at his bedroom door, hesitating for just a moment before pushing it open. The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamps on either side of the bed. The familiar scent of sandalwood and something uniquely his fills the air. His bathroom door is closed, but I can hear the faint sound of running water and something else—soft moans.