"Because it's not a Christmas tree," he repeated, exasperated. "There are certain traditions that you observe at Christmas. Newspapers aren't part of them."
He looked at the piano and grinned, because he was pretty sure that the story was told exactly to ensure that Al stopped using it as a table. "I'm sure there are other surfaces where people had sex. It's not such a big deal."
He snorted. "Al, never, ever call it coitus with anyone. Use fuck, shag, have sex. Hell, you can even use make love, but only if you're talking to a witch and trying to get laid. They like those things. Men, not so much. Don't ever use coitus."