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Although I do contemplate a sultry late night on a balcony with a low-hung crescent Moon (waining or waxing, makes no difference) and a Star-filled tapestry above and a jasmine breeze blows soothely along silken smooth skin and a cold bottle of Ca’ d’Gal Vigna Vecchia awaits in a Mauviel hammered copper wine bucket along with two crystal stemless wine glasses (stemless cos they aren’t as easily knocked over, wink, wink) on the corner of a plush thick faux cheetah print rug spread in a seemingly sensuous erotic fashion on an Albanian marble tile floor that is cold from the Eons of Time, there’s times when the P.B.R. on the back deck and a can of whipped cream just have to do.