Princess fingers, he said to me, and took them in between his own, long and lean. Breathing in the shimmering heat, I offered him my need, held it up, soft and gleaming. I didn’t see where he put it and I couldn’t hear it scream, couldn’t feel it over my own heart beating as I leaned in. Sirens wailing silent screams, muffled between our palms, warning me. But pale pink princess fingers don’t let go.