My father and I are geologists so of course we both love nipples.
“Well heck,” he says one night, over dinner. “I don’t know much about this sexual fluidity business but I think that letting the side of your thumb slide across the soft mesa of a lady’s nipple is one of the most pleasant sensations in the world, and no one should miss out on that.”
All recognition of my father drains from my mother’s eyeballs.
“Don’t cry, Mum,” I say, “It’s not like I’ll never date men again, it’s just that what I really love are nipples and everyone has those, so?”
“Some people have three,” says my father.
My mother sobs quietly into the cheese platter while my father leans back in his chair, tweaking a couple of olive pits he has held up to his chest.
Later, while I wait for my washing to finish, my father sits down beside me on the laundry floor.
“Don’t worry about your mother. I just took her coffee into the study and found her thumbing the computer screen so I think she’ll come around.”
Chloë Reeson lives and studies in Brisbane. She can be found on twitter here: @chloereeson