. . what's that poisonous smell?"
"You're no petunia yourself."
She laughed. "I do feel icky. Did you notice there are showers on this plane? Two of them." She stood and began unbuttoning her battle dress blouse.
"Is there anything this plane doesn't have?"
"Well . . . the bar's not stocked. Maybe you noticed that." She bent over and began untying her boots. "Speaking of which, why don't I get you a cold beer?"
She wasn't expecting a reply, nor did she get one, and she disappeared in the direction of the forward galley. She reappeared after a few moments, down now to a tiny sports bra and camouflage pants. Part of me admired what a good soldier she was for staying so trim and fit, and another part--the more dominant part--noted that I was in the presence of the ninth wonder of the world, a half-naked woman hauling a six-pack.
She tossed me a cold one, withdrew one for herself, and there was that inspiring symphony of two cans opening simultaneously.
I took a long sip and said, "Ah . . ."
She said, sort of out of the blue, "I hope I'm not being nosy. Why haven't you ever married?"
"Why buy the cow when you can buy milk?"
"Stop being obnoxious. That was a serious question." She leaned her back against the bulkhead and studied me with her curious black eyes. "You're a handsome man. Rough around the edges, maybe, but a lot of women would find you attractive."
I decided I owed her an answer that was honest and forthright, and I gave her one. "Mind your own business."
She laughed. She took a long sip from her beer. "Don't tell me you're one of those relationship-phobic types. The instant the M-word comes up, you put in a request for reassignment."
"Time for my shower."
I got up and walked back to the bedroom at the rear of the plane. Right beside it was another door, which I opened and peeked inside. It was a large stall, basically a green faux-marble cage with six or ten shower heads designed by a sadist and passed off as a yuppie must-have luxury item. There was nowhere to change, so I stripped down to my undies in the hallway and stepped inside.
I turned on the water, slipped off my undershorts, sipped from my beer, and leaned back against the wall. The water was as cold as the beer, and it didn't feel good, though after a moment of acclimation it was refreshing and awakening. The soap was French and smelled like a lady's boudoir--personally, I prefer the odor of stale sweat--and I scrubbed off the dirt, washed my scalp, and was rinsing my hair when I heard a hard knock on the door.
I heard Bian's voice, but it was muffled and I couldn't make out what she was saying. Two thick fluffy white towels hung from a hook and I wrapped one around my waist and opened the door.
Bian, also wrapped in a towel, her hair wet and bedraggled, said, "I turned on the water, and it's . . . it's frigid."
"Maybe the plane has to be turned on for the water heater to operate. Do you have the key to this thing?"
"Then . . . yours is cold also?"
"Yes, it's--" And before I knew it, her towel dropped to the floor and she stepped lightly into my stall. In one fluid motion, she released the towel from my waist, pulled me around by my shoulder, and closed the door as she passed. Wow, she was nimble.
And then . . . well, there we were, a man and a woman, nose to nose in our birthday suits; actually, nipple to nipple. Bian laughed and asked, "Are you shocked?"
I drew upon my legendary self-restraint and averted my eyes.
Well . . . I peeked, of course. And hers was a lovely body indeed, built for comfort and for speed, lean and muscular, broad-shouldered, without an ounce of flab that I could detect. Her skin was a wonderful mocha hue, and all the appropriate plumbing and female esoterica seemed to be present and accounted for.
"Bian . . . what are you doing?"
"Don't you mean what are we doing?" She had grabbed the soap bar and began scrubbing my chest. "Hypothermia prevention, straight from the Army cold-weather manual." She laughed. "The doc's gone, the crew's doing their mandatory bed rest and . . . and well . . . the manual stresses that any warm body will do."
Her hand had moved down to my stomach and