Myriad businessmen, many with the heavy footstep of typical, middle-aged road warriors, passed him by without notice. They never paid him any attention, and he in return never noted anything out of the ordinary regarding their passing. Their pace varied, but a quality dress shoe landing on the hard floor revealed much related to their owner’s mood and energy level. They were easy to spot. The tough ones were the genderless running shoe owners who slipped by with a high degree of stealth. They were the invisible ones.

A wave of pedestrians thundered by. There were big ones and little ones. Some hurried while others plodded at a snail’s pace. A series of rhythms were present, embedded within a cacophony of footsteps with an overlay beat from the numerous wheels on the pull-behind luggage clacking on the metal joints in the floor. Sometimes it was fun to try and pick one person out of a crowd of strangers and determine their agenda before they walked out of range. He gave up. He was too distracted. He hated it when he was distracted. Or was it lazy? That would be even worse. He was too disciplined to be lazy, so it had to be something else. Attention – that’s was it. He was distracted by the lack of it. Attention from a beautiful woman was just what the doctor ordered to transport him out of this distracted funk.

He felt her eyes touching his face about the same instant that he heard the sharp snap of stiletto heels coming his way. Breaking his concentration, he opened his eyes and turned his head in her direction. Her legs were long ones, and her stride had the grace of an ancient clock’s pendulum. He did not know her by name, but did not hesitate to smile and offered a rascal’s wink when she was close enough to appreciate it. The crisp report of her heels slowed slightly, as she came up to him. Underneath the crisp blue suit he guessed that the camisole she was wearing just barely covered a neatly groomed muffin and permitted the perfect amount of sweet cake to show from the rear. He loved that look. Nipples had to be standing at attention too, begging for his touch. He wondered if she'd touch him this time. Closer she came. Her eyes pulled his face up toward hers, as she stopped in front of him. He waited expectantly. The rascal in his smile tried valiantly to be patient. He wanted to be touched by this angel.

"Too light for honeysuckle. Must be CK ‘be’," he mused in her direction.

Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, granting his wish, and rspoke softly to him. "You’re right, it is Calvin. How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess I suppose. It’s a memorable scent on the right woman. And in my not-so-humble opinion, it is one of the few artificial scents that smell almost as good as a freshly-scrubbed woman’s body," he said, permitting his smile to curl into a crooked grin that revealed several potential agendas of his own.

She leaned closer to him, presenting perfect breasts to his face. How much better could this become? He had already been touched. Now the heat from her body was reaching for him too. Slender fingers slipped into his left hand, pulling him gently, coaxing him to stand and be nearer to her. He could feel her breath on his face, as she bent down and whispered to him. "Let me take you now."

He rose to his feet, and she slipped her free hand under his arm while the other continued to hold his hand. The squeeze he got was too pronounced to not be in response to his grip tightening slightly on her fragile hand. She stayed close to his side, as they walked away from the crowd. Her body moved along side him, reminding him of the women he'd loved before. His pulse quickened, as her grip tightened on his arm.

Images flashed before his mind’s eye of creamy thighs parting slowly in unison with perfect red nails tracing the path his lips were to follow. He longed to feel the heat that brought her scent alive and to breathe deeply of the pungent scent of her lust. She squeezed his arm closer to her body; the fullness of her breast teasing him with a nipple that had to be as hard as stone. He loved it when she took him like this.

"Oh my, woman," he exclaimed, "you make me lose my mind. I swear you'd make me walk off and leave my head if it weren't attached. I've forgotten my feeler again."

"Don’t worry," she said, "I'll take good care of your feeler for you."

"Thank you sweetie," he replied, relaxing into her embrace.

"So where are you this time?" she asked.

"2B, I think. A window is a waste on me."

She changed her grip on his hand and let it slide up his arm, as they stepped into the plane together. He knew the drill. It was funny how the routine of her escorting him to his seat had become such a ritual. Every time it was the same.

"Well, here we are," she said sweetly. He wanted to imagine that she was reluctant to let him go.

"Thank you ma’am," he replied graciously. With his index finger he tapped his cheek indicating where he wanted her to plant the traditional parting kiss and leaned toward her. Her scent filled his senses, as she moved closer to peck him on the cheek. Just as she was about to kiss him, he turned his head and kissed her lightly on the lips. His private agenda was once again fulfilled – not a bad accomplishment for an eighty-six year old gentleman.

"Oh my," she said with a giggle, "you've tricked me again."

"I wonder which of us is being tricked most often?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Another flight attendant wearing the same blue uniform and matching navy heels stepped onto the plane and walked up to them. She handed the white cane to her co-worker.

"Thanks, Barb!" his escort said. "He is determined to leave feeler behind one of these days."

"I think that’s his plan," Barbara laughed. "If he loses feeler then you'll have to walk with him everywhere he goes."

He grinned his rascal grin and said, "Well, you can’t blame a man for trying, can you?"