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Jo and Friedrich have a tradition that has – through the birth of two children and the rearing of many –remained unbroken. Every morning, before the children wake, he brings her cups of piping hot tea, they read the newspaper, and they make love.

They manage to do this, somehow, while looking quite terribly proper, she in his lap, riding his cock side-saddle with her skirts gathered up about her waist, he with his hand caressing her breast through undergarment and dress. He isn’t satisfied unless she’s experienced at least one climax, and he often hopes for two – with Jo’s fiery nature he’s rarely disappointed.

The farewell is traditional, too – he kisses her ink-stained fingers. She caresses his strong cheek. And they kiss the kiss of soulmates, portions of one another reunited in the temporal dance of sensuality.

They part, but not forever.