Nicoletta, now seven months pregnant, had abandoned the usual clichés. No strawberries and cream at 3 a.m., no pickles or disgusting food combinations. Her hormones had taken a decidedly more expensive and eccentric path. Her "hunger" wasn't gastric, but aesthetic and sensorial, directed toward a world of pleasure that seemed to have emerged from a futuristic art gallery.<br>Lying on the couch with her tablet resting on her belly, Nicoletta frantically scrolled through the pages of exclusive online boutiques, her mouth watering like a pastry shop window display.<br>"Look at this..." she whispered to herself, her eyes wide.<br>She wasn't looking at baby onesies. On the screen gleamed an object of impossible design: a 24-karat gold vibrator, highly polished and heavy, fashioned like an abstract Brancusi sculpture. She wasn't just concerned with its function; she needed to possess that precious, metallic coolness. She felt a compelling physical need to feel the weight of gold, an irration

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