A Phuhying Dek phuchay Fashions Rep is Flying With You.

After going through Security and a really rather brief wait ... in the Korean Air first-class lounge ... for your flight to board, you walk into the jumbo jet's First Class section, a flight attendant escorting you and your carry-on baggage (your laptop bag) right to your seat. There's already someone in the seat next to yours, a pretty Asian woman with pale skin and a really remarkable bosom, especially considering the stereotype of Asian women being small-chested, wearing a low-cut summer dress. She must, you think, be dressing for the westher in Korea or Thailand; Chicago in March is neither the place nor time for such ... lightweight ... clothing. She smiles at you as you pass her to get to your window seat, and you smile back. This day, already extraordinary, just keeps getting better and better.

But you have homework to do over Spring Break, and you're not about to lose any beach time doing it if you can help it. You pull your laptop out and boot it up so you can start the rough draft for your Socioligy research paper.

You've barely started when you feel the warmth of humsn flesh on your left hand. The pretty lady next to you is running the ball of her thumb over your knuckles, something that your body, anyway, seems to find intensely erotic, at least in this circumstance. You can feel yourself stiffening "down there" as you spend far too long staring at the dainty thumb stroking your hand. Only after what feels like geological ages do you manage to drag your eyes from her thumb, up past her breasts with only maybe a centuries-long pause to admire the scenery, and to her face. She's smiling at you again.

"There's an outlet down there," she says, pointing to the base of the seat in front of you, where there is indeed an electrical outlet, "It's a long flight. You don't want to drain your battery, do you?" She speaks with a slight accent you can't identify, but then, if it's not an outrageous parody if an English, French or German accent, you couldn't identify it anyway. You mumble an embarrassed thanks to her, pull out your power cord, and plug in.

She's still smiling at you, and it seems genuinely friendly, not condescending or mocking. "First time flying?" she asks, "You seem a little lost, even if you ARE working instead of gawking." She winks at you as if the two of you are sharing a joke. And now, just maybe, you are. After all, you could have spent a FEW minutes geeking out over the whole experience instead of playing the world-weary traveler ...

Smiling again - the embarrassment lasted only until she showed she had no interest in humiliating you over your ignorance - you nod and say, "Yeah, I'm a little nervous."

Her smile widens and she offers you her hand, palm down. Not really sure how to handle the situation - you're not supposed to kiss a complete stranger's hand, are you? - you simply hold it up for a moment and run the paf of your thumb over HER knuckles. "Aaron LaFleur," you say. Take THAT, unfamiliar social interaction!

"And I am Malee Srisuk," she answers, squeezing your hand briefly, "Tell me, 'LaFleur' means 'flower' in French, does it not?"

"Sure."

Malee's smile widens. "Then we have something in common. 'Malee' also means 'flower' in my language."

"Well," you say not at all nervously, "now I know why I find your name so pretty."

"Mm. It sort of makes us sisters under the skin."

God, I hope not, you think. Aloud you say, "So in what language does Malee mean 'flower'?" You're really hoping she'll be seated next to you all the way to Bangkok.

"Thai," she answers. You can barely keep from jumping up and down in excitement, figuring your chances at this pretty young woman's company all the way through to Bangkok just went way up.

"So ... are you going all the way through to Bangkok?" you ask, again NOT AT ALL nervously despite your hammering heartbeat.

"Sure. Something else we have in common." You'd have completely missed the fact that she knew your destination if not for the turn the conversation suddenly takes. "You know, there's something else I hope we'll have in common soon," she says, voice growing a little husky as she rubs the back of your hand with the ball of her thumb again.

The sexual innuendo is both obvious and ludicrous; strangers don't just meet and get freaky, or even involved, five minutes after meeting except in porn and James Bond films. But you're thinking with the wrong head altogether at this point, and IT decides to play along. "Wh ... what's that?"

"Well, I just finished two years as Phuhying Dek phuchay's spokesperson."

Oh.