“Any Time, Any Place” by Janet Jackson (1993)

“Any Time, Any Place” was one of the earliest Janet Jackson slow jam sex songs (they subsequently became standard issue for JJ…but we were still in a place where we didn’t exactly equate Jacksons with sex.) It was #1 on Billboard’s R&B chart for more than two months in 1994 (aided by an R. Kelly remix AND a slamming B-side in “And On And On”, which has already been covered on this blog.


Let’s talk about sex. I’m leading with this because the next few paragraphs may make some of y’all reading a tad uncomfortable.

When Janet. came out in spring 1993, I was a senior in high school. And a virgin. I generally glossed over the cassette version’s last two songs (the samba-esque “The Body That Loves You” in addition to “Any Time, Any Place”), feeling them not up to par with the album’s more uptempo tracks or even the mid tempo “Where Are You Now,” which felt less like a slow jam and more typically Jackson-esque (note: this was just the beginning of JJ asserting herself publicly in a sexual sense.)

A year later, I was out of high school and in the process of losing my virginity. From that point until maybe my mid twenties, music soundtracked a handful of my romantic escapades. I’d made “slow jam” mixtapes before, but now I was putting them into practical use.

There are two pieces of music that will be forever linked to sex for me. One is Baduism, and while I’m semi-embarrassed by the fact that a serious song like “Otherside Of The Game” makes me think of a guy’s face buried in my ass, it is what it is.

“Any Time, Any Place”, a song about having sex in public, maybe should’ve soundtracked some of my more adventurous liaisons, like the times I actually have had sex in public. However, this song (and the entire second side of the Janet cassette, which is definitely the format I was using primarily when this encounter took place) takes me back to when I was renting my aunt’s basement. I had my own entrance and exit, so I didn’t have to sneak guys over even though I took pains to be discreet. I don’t remember the guy’s name. We must have met on one of the gay chat lines that used to be popular in the ‘90s, and we both must have been extra horny because this encounter marks the only time in my sexual history that I have broken furniture. Eh, that’s a lie. I broke a bed once, but there wasn’t any music playing when that happened.

Anyway, not only did we knock over a lamp in the process of moving from my futon to the floor (hey, cut me some slack, I was like 21), but at one point I could see my partner mouthing the words to the song in that panting, in-heat whisper that occurs when your world is in the process of being rocked. I get off the most when I know that I’m turning my partner out. Knowing I’m giving pleasure gives me pleasure, so hearing my trick partner whisper/moan on top of Janet’s sensual coos was like winning the Gold medal of fucking. At least temporarily.

So, thank you Janet, for the inspiration and the assist. As they say, team work makes the dream work.

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