The undeniable Barry White, if I’m entirely earnest, is just too much. He’s sex ad-absurdum, a fertility idol covered in phalluses, and I just can’t see two people sharing a moment with his chocolaty baritone in the background. The sexiest music is soft yet strong, rhythmic but unobtrusive. It serves the purpose of the moment, while going in for that first kiss, when every inch toward each other’s lips becomes a vaster expanse than the last.

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