“Nervous flyer?” asked the stick-thin blond in the seat across the aisle, leaning towards Grant with her breasts pushed together.
Threading his fingers together Grant shook his head and managed a toothy grimace.
“Nah” he said; “planes have never really bothered me.”
“You don’t have to lie to me hun” said the blonde, reaching over to place a manicured hand against Grant’s lapel; “you’re shaking like a leaf in that dapper get-up of yours.” she added.
“It’s really not the plane I worry about Miss” he said, hand slipping inside his jacket, “it’s the sort of people who can find their way on board.”