“She is kneeling in the middle of the bed, on rumpled sheets. She’s waiting for me to sort out the belt buckle in my jeans, looking up, twirling a curl of hair around my finger. “Stop fiddling around,” she smiles. – I can’t wait anymore! Pink lipstick, purple shadow on the eyelids, fluffy eyelashes, huge rings made of pink plastic in the earlobes. The light strands are gathered into two ponytails—pink, of course—with elastic bands, thrown forward, bashfully covering the nipple halos. A tiny diamond butterfly sparkles in the navel. The only clothes she wears are lace shorts and short strawberry-colored socks...”