Let’s begin with a Hollywood anecdote involving a piece of advice: while filming the movie Marathon Man, Sir Laurence Olivier waited patiently for the arrival of his young costar, Dustin Hoffman, so they could shoot a scene together. Hoffman finally appeared, looking like absolute hell, bedraggled, dark circles under his eyes, and Larry (his friends called him Larry) asked what had happened. Dusty (his friends called him Dusty), playing the role of a paranoid, sleep-deprived marathoner in the film, then explained that he’d been awake for two days straight and had run all the way to the set. “My dear boy,” said Larry, “why don’t you just try acting?”

The most well-known advice when it comes to the art of wordsmithing, of course, is to write what you know. True and wise is this maxim. But not everything must be ripped from the pages of your diary — you don’t always have to channel James Taylor or Tori Amos. You can just try acting, dear boy. Go full imagineer! Make that stuff up!

The writers of this particular song did just that. But first, who’s this Billy Paul cat?

Billy Paul grew up in Philadelphia, listening to his family’s record collection from a very young age. He particularly favored the female jazz singers — Nina Simone, Dinah Washington, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday. His parents enrolled him in prestigious music schools, and as a teen he was already performing in nightclubs around town. Paul released singles sporadically in the 50’s and 60’s but didn’t attain true success until signing with Gamble & Huff’s Philadelphia International label.

Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff had already written a number of hits when they formed Philadelphia International Records as a direct competitor to Motown in 1971. The pair would dominate the charts for the rest of the decade as both writers and producers, but they started with Billy Paul. Billy, they felt, had never been given the proper material or musical backing, so Kenny and Leon set out to correct that. They just needed the right song.

On the ground floor of the office building where Gamble & Huff headquartered their label was a quiet bar where the two would go to unwind. There they noticed a little man who looked like he might be a judge (or something of that ilk) coming in every day at the same time. And every day, about 10 minutes or so after the gentleman arrived, a young lady would enter the bar, and they’d sit across from each other in a booth, holding hands on top of the table, talking, and occasionally getting up to play the same songs on the jukebox. After a time, they’d get up to leave, and he would go one way, and she the other. This exact routine occurred daily.

Gamble & Huff had no idea what actual relationship existed between the couple. It could have been perfectly innocent. But good songwriters know that innocence doesn’t necessarily make for the most interesting of songs. You have to spice it up! So they invented a story. They invented Mrs. Jones.

Billy Paul used every bit of his vocal skill during the recording, and when “Me and Mrs. Jones” dropped in the fall of 1972 it reached the top of the charts by the end of the year. He never came close to replicating that success, but he never gave up singing and playing live. As with Mrs. Jones, he loved it too much to stop.

So meet up tomorrow at the same place, at the same time. You’ve got a thing going on. . . with Billy Paul.