He cocked his posture. Took two steps toward the back of the cabin.

His peepers drifted.

Scanned the other faces in the cabin-as males often did-looking most likely for a piece of woman-flesh to strike his fancy.

Eyes alighted on Noreen's stretched jersey. Boobs bulging with thick nips underneath.

"Say," he said.

"Noreen."

"Yeah. I remembered your name."

He stretched his palm toward her. "I'm Slash."

"I remembered too."

Noreen took his hand.

Shook it.

He held onto her wrist for a split-second longer than strictly necessary.

For an instant, Noreen thought-hoped-he would flick his lips to her wrist.

Kiss her hand.

Then paw her glands.

"You traveling to New York too, Noreen?"

"Yeah."

"Family?"

"Sort of. Yeah."

His features flattened.

"Oh, Noreen. I'm sorry."

"You knew?"

"I guessed it."

"Was I really that bad?"

"Fuck no. You were easily one of the best. But the coaching staff was being ridden hard by the Olympic committee to get rid of all chicks who even resembled women."

"Still doesn't help."

"Well, fuck, Noreen. I was canned too."

He jiggled his pocket.

Noreen saw the wad of bills through the material of his trousers. Silently chewed her lips as she sensed movement in his other wad.

"Say, listen, Noreen. I was in search of liquid refreshment. May I buy you another drink?"

"Sure."

He signaled for the female flight attendant. Noreen could tell the flight bitch was hot in the crotch for Slash as she took in his hardbod while serving up the drinks.

Noreen gloated inwardly.

Sucked on her vodka and lemon.

"So you were fired too?" she said as Slash eased into the empty seat next to her. "Weren't you there as a consultant?"

"Yeah. I wasn't officially on staff. But I contracted the gig on the basis of a long-term thing-a few months at least."