My woman. It seemed so strange to think like that. But she was mine.We melted together, slowly dancing to the sounds of Sinatra’s Come Fly With Me, ... hit from a couple of years before.“I love flying with you, Johnny.” Mags got a little emotional and hugged me tighter. I sniffed a little, too, as we held each other on our last night. We didn’t want to talk about the future as we both knew there wasn’t one for us. But we also knew there could’ve been one, under other circumstances.I unzipped her. She was wearing her Atlantic Airlines cabin crew uniform. The dark blue jacket and skirt were clean and pressed, her white blouse starched and fresh, her forage cap perched on immaculately back-combed and lacquered hair."78," the auctioneer called, "if you could let these gentlemen see you move please."Rebecca looked across of the auctioneer and got slowly to her feet. Without a word she walked slowly from left to right across the stage, turned to face the buyers and then walked back to stand. More

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