"I… you see… I have a tendency that way, but I'd love to be a hostess."

This was it.

Helen said very slowly, breathing hard: "You only have a, a tendency toward, uh, making love to women?"

"A leaning. A… desire." Cleo leaned close. Her breath touched Helen's cheek, warm and subtly perfumed. "I'm so uneasy talking here. They might bug a bar to find out, you know, business secrets."

Conference Room One! Vacant, and made to order for an assignation of cunts!

Helen sneaked the key off its hook when Snarly Mollie wasn't looking. Now she stood alone in the angle of the rear passageway and fitted the gimmicky three-cornered key to the pickproof lock. But as she opened the door a few inches, she stopped and looked around again. She could see a lay door. Was Hank in there with that missing, sexy, slinky, dark-eyed charmer from Buenos Aires? Fleetingly Helen wondered how they could manage in the close confines of a plane's lay. Let's see, she thought. Hank sits on the toilet, being gentleman enough to close it first, and the seductive South American gets onto his lap backward and offers her cunt to Hank's every-ready prick. Hank slides it in… the angle is a bit awkward… Missy adjusts her olive-skinned ass cheeks on his thighs… she has a tight grip around him… she is sighing with pleasure… slowly she pumps, stops, tantalizes him. Slowly she pumps, stops, but this time Hank, if Helen knew Hank, would ram it up into her and make her gasp and murmur of love in Portuguese. Meanwhile he had access to her times. Those two must be having such a good time in there! They had both been out of sight for at least half an hour. Lucky there were plenty of lays on the plane for other people who might want to do something in a lay beside fuck. The hell with Hank. Helen turned the other way, nodded reassuringly to Cleo, who watched her while casually lounging in the entrance to the bar meanwhile she had hesitated a quarter-minute with the conference-room door ajar. But nobody came along.