I bet he felt as if I had put a steam-roller on his hand. He began to sweat and his eyes filmed with the pain he must have felt. He must have wondered...how I managed to hold him down with a finger."Please," he muttered, "can I have my hand back?" But of course," I said and removed my finger. He left me alone for the rest of the flight.My fellow travellers couldn't explain the fawning attention I received from the air hostesses, three lovely Malay girls who giggled at my faltering Malay. They did. I caught him checking me out as I fumbled the packages and my robe opened at the top slightly and my leg slipped through the split, and rather than blush, I could only smile, he wouldn’t have been able to see much but it no doubt brightened his day and I could only imagine that I’d be one of the stories he told his buddies back at the depot and maybe think about later once home. Just like with Marc or any of my fans, the idea that I could take up their headspace, that I was desirable was such. More

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