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That’s the most unspeakably vulgar thing … I’ve ever heard!” Joan Wright said, blushing, as she turned her head in embarrassment, not daring to look up into the arrogant eyes of the man who stood relaxed and at ease beside the partly demolished fuselage of the wrecked plane.
“What’s the matter, Mrs. Wright … haven’t you ever been propositioned before?” he asked, his eyes, crinkling at the corners into deep crow’s feet, his disarming smile revealing straight, white and even teeth contrasting with the deep tan of his lean, good-looking face.
“Under the circumstances … I-I hardly expected … something like this … Mr. Henson!” she faltered.
“Call me Buzz!”
“No, thank you, Mr. Henson … We’re going to remain just as we were! There’ll be no … personal relationships!”
“Think it over … Joan …” he began, but her flashing, angry eyes stopped him.
She snapped, “Mrs. Wright … to you!”
“Mrs. Wright …” he mocked. “You’re not in a very good position to bargain!”
“Why should I have to bargain … with you?”
“Very simple … I’ve got something you want … and …” he leered, looking up and down her trim sensuous figure. “You’ve got something … I want!”
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.