Aw, baby. Where you going? Please don't walk out that door. Don't walk out on Smoove B. He's the man who can make everything all right. He's the man who can make love to you all night.
Baby, don't leave me like this. Let Smoove B put some Klymaxx on the CD player and turn the lights down real low. I'll put on my crimson silk bathrobe. Let me slow dance with you and give you pleasure until the break of dawn. Whatever reason you may have for walking out that door, you'll forget about it once I start to shake you down.
Come back here, sweet thing. I'll set everything right. I'll profess my love to you. I'll get down on my knees. I'll take your hand in a very tender manner and whisper in your ear, "Baby, you mean everything to me. I can't live without you. I'll do whatever it takes to win your love."
I will then rub jasmine-scented massage oil on your feet. I will rub your feet hour after hour. I will also rub your legs. Then, I will draw an exotic bubble bath for you, with only the finest bath oils to rub into your soft, creamy skin. And I will stand by your side and hold your towel for as long as it takes for you to become soothed by the bath. I will stand until my feet are tired from standing, just to give you a moment of pleasure.
There will also be some candles in the bathroom.
Baby, here are just a few of the food items that you remind me of: luscious, chocolate pudding; ripe, red strawberries dipped in whipped cream; succulent, newly picked apricots.
For you, I would charter a special jet to France to purchase a rich, fluffy eclair from the finest eclair establishment in the south of France. I would deliver it to you at our dinner table on top of a silk pillow.
Aw, baby, I just want to get freaky with you right here on this hardwood floor. Right now.
Whatever I did, baby, I'm sorry. But it doesn't have to be like this. Don't leave. Did I say something wrong? If I did, I take it back. Sometimes I say things without thinking first, but I'm always thinking of you. Every corner of my mind is overcome with thoughts of you. There is no room for anything else, because the thought of you takes up all my brain. It's a total Love TKO.
Don't leave me, baby. I'll caress your hair.
Smoove B's weekly column is syndicated in 400 newspapers nationwide.