No One But Us

by Elizabeth O'Roark

“I feel like every time I bend over now you’re looking at my ass,” I tell him quietly as I pick up my drinks. It’s different, working with him now. His eyes follow me everywhere I go, with a tension between us that is intoxicating and grueling in the same moment. “Every time you ever bent over I was looking at your ass.” I lean over the bar so my mouth is close to his ear. “Stasera voglio vederti nudo,” I whisper. Tonight I want to see you naked. “Two gin and tonics.” He laughs. “You did not just ask for gin and tonics.” “Reply in French,” I demand. “Mon crayon est grande.” I lean toward him again, keeping my voice low enough that we won’t be overheard. “Yes, James. I’m well aware of how large your crayon is. I think it’s the biggest crayon I’ve ever seen.” “You haven’t seen it.” “Some things are pretty easy to assess in other ways,” I reply, glancing at his crotch. “Although maybe I should see it, just to be sure.”