In a transatlantic flight, the plane passes into a severe storm, the turbulence is awful, and things go from bad to worse when one wing is struck by lightning and is detatched.
One woman in particular loses it. Screaming, she stands up at the front of the plane and yells, "I'm too young to die! But if I'm going to, I want my last minutes to be memorable!
I've had plenty of lovers in my life, but none of them has ever made me feel like a woman! Is there anyone on this plane who can make me feel like a real woman?"
For a moment there is dead silence. Everyone has forgotten their own peril, and they all stare, riveted, at the desperate woman.
Then a man stands up at the rear of the plane. "I can make you feel like a real woman," he says, his voice low and husky.
The man is gorgeous. Tall, well-built, broad shoulders, flowing jet-black hair and soft brown eyes.
He starts to walk slowly up the aisle, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes, one button at a time. No-one moves.
The woman is shaking, breathing heavily in anticipation as the stranger approaches. He removes his shirt.
Muscles ripple across his chest and arms as he reaches her. He draws close to her, and as he presses his shirt against her whispers...
"Iron this."
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