POOLSIDE

"I can feel your eyes."

A nod.

"You started studying me. When I loosened by strap to put on lotion. Your eyes surveyed. You looked me up and down, didn't you?"

A smile and a nod.

"You committed me to memory. From my thighs to my painted toenails. You didn't know I knew. I could feel you. Your eyes were hotter than the sun, partially obscured by the white clouds. Wispy but enough to deflect glare."

Now, only a puzzled look.

"But not enough to deflect your glare. Or gaze? Which is it?"

A shrug.

"C'mon. Tell me what you see in me. What do you want? Me? What's behind those Foster Grants?"

"No speaka Engles," is all he answered.