Like a sensual fragrance, the voice of Lenny Williams streamed all through the split level house. … I, I love you, baby With all my heart and soul Oh, oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh Love you I need you I want you I need you Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh … The stereo had been playing the same cry for hours. Deon refused to let any other song occupy his thoughts. The flames in the fireplace were no longer aflame; just an occasional crackle and simmering hum permeated the room. He reflected on one particular line in the song: Some men need lots of women for their passions to feel but I want only you, girl. Would Chantal ever believe that about him again? A quick flash of light interrupted his darkness. He glanced down at his wrist…no watch. He took a quick look over at the grandfather clock…4:17a.m. Finally Chantal was home and he could execute the request for forgiveness he had practiced over and over in his mind. Chantal stared at the clock on the wood grain dashboard, 4:26a.m. She had been sitting in the driveway for nearly ten minutes just gazing at the house. For the first time she didn’t want to go home. She still wasn’t prepared to confront Deon, her heart still wounded. She closed her eyes to hold back the tears, only to be assaulted by images of Deon ******* another woman, his tongue exploring another pair of nipples, and his fingers satisfying another woman’s cavity. An icy chill ran up Chantal’s spine. She shook off the ghastly images and reached down for her cell phone. Deon stood peeking out the living room bay window, wondering why Chantal hadn’t gotten out of the car yet. Suddenly her headlights came back on and Deon jumped out of the way so she wouldn’t see he was watching. In a blink of an eye Chantal was gone. What was going on? He didn’t understand. Where could she possibly be going at 4:30 in the morning? He dashed to the house phone and frantically dialed her number. ****…voicemail!