August 26, 1998

Walking through the bustling crowd of London City Airport, I clutched onto the handle of my carry on tightly as I attempted to block out the anxiety that was slowly building up inside. People from all walks of life continuously bumped into me, racing to find their terminal.

After retrieving the rest of my luggage, I exhaled a sigh of relief as my eyes scanned over a sign with 'Jasmin Wilson' scribbled on it.

As I approached the unsuspecting burly hispanic man, I waved my hand at him to get his attention. "Hi, I'm Jasmin Wilson. I'm sorry about the mix up my flight was dela—",

Cutting me off with an expressionless tone, "You're late. The boss said your flight should've gotten in 3 hours ago. We're behind schedule."

Well if he would've let me explain, he would've known my connecting flight out of Boston was delayed for 3 hours.

Grabbing my rolling suitcase from my hand, I followed him outside and into the awaiting town car.

Aside from taking in the breathtaking sites as they flew past us, the thirty minute ride was rather uneventful. Other than occasionally glancing back at me, the unnamed bodyguard never said more than two words to me the entire ride. I could sense an unspoken amount of tension in the car.

Pulling up to our destination, I was in aw of the Bulgari Hotel London. Pacing through the lobby behind him, I was only afforded mere seconds to take in the lavishness of it all.

As we stepped on a secluded set of elevators, the bodyguard bypassed all the numbered floors and pressed the button that was labeled "P" and put in a code on the keypad.

Once we reached the top floor, we were met with a set of pristine white double doors and another bodyguard sitting near by.

"Glad y'all finally made it, Andrew I'll take it from here." Just from first glance this guy already looked nicer than his uptight co-worker. "Ms. Wilson, I'll take your bags. My name is Troy by the way."

Handing my bags over to Troy, Andrew turned on his heels and headed back on the elevator without saying another word.

Walking into the penthouse suite, my jaw was literally on the floor at how immaculate the vast suite was. The freshly waxed cherry wood floors. The large grey sectional in the middle of the living room. The priceless artwork lining the walls. The smell of lavender and vanilla filled my nostrils as Prince's familiar scent set the ambience in the room.

"Ms. Wilson, the boss took the initiative to have his assistant pick you out some dresses from a local boutique. They're located in the bedroom to your right. If you get hungry, you can order room service. If you need anything else, I will be outside."

"Jasmin, you can call me Jasmin, Troy."

"Jasmin...we'll be leaving in two hours to head to the venue."

"Thank you Troy." He smiled as he exited the front door. Walking into into the bedroom, I threw my bags on the king sized bed before taking a glance at the wardrobe. Slinking my hand across the various dresses on the rack, I realized these dresses were more formal than what I intended to wear tonight. How the hell did he know my exact size?

After showering and a quick mini-beat to my face, I decided on a sultry red Givenchy dress and the shiny, black Steve Madden pumps that I brought. The dress fit a little more snug than I anticipated, but my ass looked good in it so I couldn't complain. Last minute, I slicked my hair back in a low ponytail to compliment the backless dress.

As I waited for the elevator with Troy, I toyed with the latch on my clutch, contemplating on whether I should ask the questions that have been bugging me.

"Troy, if you don't mind me asking, why is Andrew so rude? I mean he barely said two words to me. He acted like I pissed in his cheerios."

He lightly chuckled at my observation. "Well Miss...I'm sorry Jasmin...The boss gave us clear instructions not to converse with you on a personal level. But can I be honest with you?"

"Please."

He paused as the elevator doors closed, as if he was having an internal conflict with his conscious.

"It is none of our business what your relationship is with the boss and why you are here with him. The only thing I can assume is that your presence might have rubbed Andrew the wrong way because when he is not working security detail for the boss, he's working with the bosses wife. I, myself do not know you so I can't pass judgement on you."

"Thank you for being honest with me Troy."

Entering a VIP entrance of the Wimbledon Arena, showtime was only fifteen minutes away. Being whisked towards the front row, I could already hear the crowd roaring in cheers as they waited for their beloved artist to grace their presence.

Words can't explain how phenomenal the show was. I had never seen him in concert before so I literally danced the entire time and sung along to every song like my life depended on it.

I was off near stage right on the front row and the energy reverberating from the crowd was indescribable. Seeing who he calls his 'friends', spanning all different ages and races being emotionally moved by his music was a sight to see.

During the first encore, after he rounded off Everyday People, I heard some slightly intoxicated females near me yell, "Sing The One to me baby! I'm the one for you!"

Honestly, that was the last song I wanted to here that night so I was more than thrilled when he bypassed their advances. As he cued up for a second encore, as instructed Troy came to lead me back to the dressing room.

Pacing down a narrow hallway as stage hands zoomed past us, I suddenly felt jittery inside about seeing him for the first time in almost three months. Although I deeply missed him, apart of my mind would still replay that interview I saw back in July.

While patiently waiting for Prince, I floated over towards vanity area. Looking over his shade of Bobbi Brown foundation, I had no idea he was so into makeup. Picking up a powder compact, a random sticky note that was buried under it caught my attention.

"Mrs. Nelson called three times during sound check." 

The question is did he even bother to call him back?

I haphazardly threw the piece of paper back down as I heard the door creak open and in walked Prince, still high off the excitement of being on stage.

Turning on my heels, I watched him as he locked the door and floated towards me. His bangs were raked back exposing the thin film of sweat covering his forehead and the carnal look in his sultry eyes that were a sexy shade of green today.

Noticing the vexatious look on my face, he placed his hands on either side of me on the vanity. Pressing himself firmly against me, he whispered, "I don't know why you have that stank look on your face, but I'm about to give you one good, long reason why it needs to go away."

Without warning, he swiftly attacked my lips. Noticing I wasn't reciprocating, I heard the sound of the makeup that was on the vanity hitting the floor before he gripped his soft hands around my thighs and lifted me onto the counter.

Caught off guard by his sudden aggression, I involuntarily moaned against his lips and he took this opportunity to allow his tongue to invade my mouth.

Feeling like I was slowly losing myself in the height of this long awaited ecstasy, I used all my strength to push him away and hop off the counter.

He had this crazed look on his face as he watched me walk back towards the couch, his erection standing at attention in his satin pants. "Are you serious Jasmin?!"

"I missed you too pookie." I smiled, only angering him more. His face turned a bright crimson while he tried to formulate his next words through his anger.

"We haven't been together in three months and the second I'm ready to fuck you senseless you push me away?! Why are you acting like such a—", he cut his sentence off, afraid of the repercussions of letting the word bitch roll off of his tongue.

He held onto the bridge of his nose as he sat down next to me. "Baby, why did you even come if you were going to treat me like this? I had to practically beg you to come to London. Jazz, can you be honest with me. Are you fucking someone else?"

I quietly chuckled at his question. Tori was right on the money when she said that a married man will always question whether you're sleeping around on them when you start to pull away.

Shaking my head, I gave him a round about answer. "Let's say I am sleeping with another man. What makes you think you can question me about it? I don't question you about your sex life with Mayte." His body stiffened as all that I said hit him.

Figuring I might as well keep the bangers coming, I snidely commented, "By the way, I loved the premiere of The One on BET. Mayte looked cute, who did her hair?"