We chat as we ride back to his place, and when we get there we go into the kitchen to start cooking dinner together. We sip expensive vintage wine, listen to music, and sing and dance around the place together. Cliff is a masterful dancer, and I follow his lead perfectly. Our bodies come together like interlocking pieces, and our shared connection shows in our spins and twirls and dips. We sit down for a delicious dinner in his formal dining room.

Nearing the end of the meal, I gush, “I feel so spoiled.”

“Good. You deserve to be spoiled,” Cliff asserts. “Today was just a taste of what’s to...