Hands shaking, Claude began to use the makeupas instructed; his mind returning to the many time he had helped thewhores at the bordello with the same ...asks.But it was not the whores that he was thinking of as he began his work.Rather Claude pictured in his mind the upstanding ladies of the town, whowearing their beautiful dresses and carrying their tiny parasol's wouldnot even speak to him on the streets back in Salt Flats. Rather thanworking in volume, like the prostitutes, he kept the makeup. She wore those atrocious navy-blue opaque tights which made her legs look like scorched tree trunks.Mike was a leg man — always had been - always would be; but he was getting no leg action on this flight.The frumpy older stewardess approached him and offered him water or orange juice and had rolled her eyes when he'd asked for champagne, she had clomped off to the service area to get him his drink. She had tried to give him an insipid smile, but Mike knew he'd pissed her off but he didn't care. More

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