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Sheila E unraveled a very long boa constrictor and began whipping Prince’s naked buttocks. This is back in the day, circa “Glamorous Life”.
“Welcome to Sheila’s world” she said over the smacks.
“I like your sense of oligarchy” Prince responded, grabbing wooden handles.
“Thanks very much”.

Afterwards, they sat in robes drinking coffee. The sun was coming up. Prince was waxing philosophic. “Is it – I mean, do you ever think about the possibility that we’re all just very small carbon units on a globe which is, in the grand scheme of things, just another small unit of carbon?”
“You’ve been hanging out with Apollonia again, haven’t you.” She said.
He chuckled through his nose.
“You chuckled through your nose fairly opaquely there, didn’t you.” She said.
“Ruminatively, more likely.”
The eggs were brought in on a tray. Prince took his scrambled, whites only. Sheila enjoyed the rancheros style omelet.
“Would you say we are lovers?” She suddenly asked.
“No," Prince leveled. "I’m not your lover”. Sheila’s fork stopped inches from her mouth. But then he continued:
“I’m not your lover. I’m not your friend. I am something that you’d never comprehend.”

Sheila's eyes became moist. Yes. The answer to her question was Yes. But for how long? This was, after all, rock and roll in the eighties.