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If she knows the exact coordinates, you're home free. If not, chances are very good she'll know when you've found it. Meanwhile, the search gives the two of you a common goal, and that's a good start.

Ask her.

If she knows the exact coordinates, you're home free. If not, chances are very good she'll know when you've found it. Meanwhile, the search gives the two of you a common goal, and that's a good start.

Go on a picnic. Sharing some bread and wine on top of a blanket is a time-honored precursor to getting under a blanket together. And don’t let bad weather stop you. Spread your blanket in front of the fireplace (or the TV with an adult dvd on the screen). Traditional picnic fare: bread and cheese, fruit, olives, a roast chicken. You don’t need to cook a thing—raid bakeries and delis, take-outs and fancy groceries. Look for food you can eat with your fingers, stuff that’s messy and sensual. Take linen napkins or terry hand towels for wiping up. Or, like cats, lick each other’s fingers and faces.

Katie’s was comforting her 95-year-old grandmother after the death of her grandfather. He died, her grandmother said, “of a heart attack while we were making love on Sunday morning." The 20-something-year-old was shocked and asked her grandmother if she didn’t realize that having sex at their age was dangerous.

"It wasn’t," her grandmother assured her. "Years ago, we figured out the best time to do it was when the church bells rang. It was just the right rhythm, nice and slow, nothing strenuous. In on the ding, out on the dong." She paused, wiped away a tear, and continued, "He’d still be alive today if that damned ice cream truck hadn't come along.”