On a recent transatlantic flight, a plane passes through a severe storm. The turbulence is awful, and things go from bad to worse when one wing is struck by lightning.

One woman in particular is panic stricken and begins to lose it. Screaming, she stands up in the front of the plane. "I'm too young
To die," she wails. Then she yells, "Well, if I'm going to die, I want my last minutes on earth to be memorable! Is there ANYONE on this plane who can make me feel like a WOMAN?"

For a moment there is stunned silence. Everyone has forgotten their own peril. They all stare, riveted, at the desperate woman in the front of the plane.

Then a man stands up in the rear of the plane. He is gorgeous: tall, well built, with sun-streaked wavy hair and hazel eyes. He starts to walk slowly up the aisle.

Never taking his eyes from hers, he begins to unbutton his shirt...

.....one button at a time.
.....No one moves.
.....He removes his shirt.
.....No one speaks.
.....Muscles ripple across his chest
.....No one breathes.
.....He reaches out for her, gently caresses her hair and whispers:

....."Here. Iron this."