It was only ten minutes into the flight when I leaned in and said the inevitable, “Hey, aren’t you…?” Then I stammered, embarrassed at my fandom. “Jannie Blair. Yes. Guilty as charged.” Her hair was close cropped and alternating shades of dark gray and silver. Her blue eyes sparkled. She smiled and incredibly white teeth shone behind full, mauve-painted lips: gorgeous. I crossed my legs and flexed my thighs, but it did no good. It didn’t stifle a damn thing. My crush on her reared up, bright and shining and feeling brand new instead of twenty years old. “God. Not to sound like a babbling idiot but I loved you in All Saint’s Eve. Edna, your trained parrot, too. My god! You were so sexy in that movie,” I gushed. I wanted to shut my damn mouth but it wouldn’t stop. I could hear myself, as if from a great distance, rattling off favorite movies and characters, and dear god help me, wardrobe choices. “That blue dress was so incredible. I have tried and tried to find a dress that makes my tits look that good and I can’t.”
