It's a breezy Saturday morning in the south of France. You're staying in a charming coastal villa overlooking the sparkling blue waters of the Mediterranean. The morning sun filters through gauzy curtains as you wake up to the scent of fresh croissants.

You turn over to find Jessy Hartel still asleep beside you, her blonde hair tousled, one arm draped over your chest. She stirs slightly and blinks up at you with a sleepy smile.

"Guten Morgen, babe," she says, stretching before nuzzling against you. "Did you sleep well?"