This short-short story first appeared at Corium Magazine in October 2014.
First, tell him it's the way the skin feels that's unlike anything else. Yes, the breasts are nice. You like them. There is a difference. Blush when you say, But I also like your cock. It is the word that most conveys your desire, which you wouldn't describe as clinical, but metaphorical, much like the word itself.
Don't say cock ever again except for when you're already naked or when you're referring to the literal meaning of the word, when much later, you are at your lover's parents' farm.
He likes that you are, what's the word, "exploratory." This doesn't feel quite right to you. Somehow it's inaccurate, a dismissal of sorts. But don't say this, not yet.
Next, share more secrets. Go to the movies. Go to dinner. Travel. Move in. Touch and keep touching. Feel satisfied, then don't. Feel bored, then don't. Fight. Fight. Fight. Move out.
Do a lot of talking.
Move back in. Talk. Get pregnant, but don't tell him. Take a trip to see your best friend, and lose something you hope you won't regret. Go home. Go to sleep. Talk. Touch. Talk. Get married. No, don't tell him.
Later, decide to never have children. Work. Talk. Work. Dinner. Work. Movie. Talk. Sex. Work is most satisfying. Say, it's like our bodies refuse to fit together. Don't touch. Don't talk. Separate.
Lastly, tell him, no. "Exploratory" is not the word for it.
Divorce.
Meet another man. Talk. Touch. Dinner. Touch. Separate.
Meet a woman. Talk. Dinner. Talk. Touch. Touch. Touch. Separate.
Touch.
Trace your finger over the line beneath her breast. Curl your fingers between her ribs. Crawl in. Stay there. Feel her heartbeat. Get trapped between muscle and bone. Try to escape, but don't. Rest between her ribs. They are a xylophone unlike anything else.