EDITOR'S NOTE: A really obscene number of people hit this story through a search engine with the query "nipple photo" or a derivative there of. Believe me, this isn't what you think. Still feel free to read it and explore the rest of the site which features no nipples but some quality fiction and personal essays.

"My friend's model canceled so I'm going to fill in," is what she told me. By the punch in the gut I felt, I figured that I was getting too territorial and possessive. I needed to give her space and let her do what she wanted. I mean, she wasn't "mine" after all and the girl seemed quite into me.

"Sure, sure. Have fun," was what I said.

So the shoot came and went and I never heard anything about it, then one day, about two weeks later she showed me some Polaroid transfers on a paper towel. My only response was "Are those your nipples?"

"I hope not."

But they were. When I saw the actual print with the hairy guy in the wife beater holding her, there they were like two pink eyes peeking out of the scarce underwear she wore for the photo and while a lot of guys don't care or aren't bothered by something like that, I found that I was. It bothered me a lot.