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I crashed early, freeing the bathroom for my guest and creating what privacy I could by my sleep.I lay quietly for over an hour before I heard him snap off the t.v. He stood in the doorway, framed from behind by the light in the bathroom and gently illuminated from the front by the lamp near my closet.The media had latched onto his case, and for several consecutive days his face had been on more newspaper covers than Princess Diana’s. No one came forward to claim him, the police drew a complete blank, and, mysteriously, he had no form of identification on him.I was happy, a little excited even, to provide a night of lodging to Rod, the fellow from the home office, upstate.We had been working together on the new facility design for months.He was gorgeous and I enjoyed the few opportunities I had to be with him outside of the office — lunches and on one occasion a late-night cocktail at my apartment.

I recall how honoured I was the day I received my flight attendant wings, my first flight, my promotion to purser. No low budget airlines, no TWA scabs, no imminent fear of bankruptcy.She stood in front of me and asked if she could sit with me.“Sure”, I said, and she slid into the booth with me.He thanked me and as I told him I hope I could be of service to him during the flight, he chuckled saying, “I’m sure you will be.” When I walked into the bar, I didn’t notice her at first.I sat in a booth in a dark corner and ordered a drink from the waitress.

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