On a recent transatlantic flight, a plane passes
through a severe storm.

The turbulence is awful, and things go from bad to
worse when one wing is struck by lightning.

One woman in particular loses it. Screaming, she
stands up in the front of the plane. "I'm too young to
die," she wails.

Then she yells, "Well, if I'm going to die, I want my
last minutes on earth to be memorable! Is there ANYONE
on this plane who can make me feel like a WOMAN?"

For a moment there is silence. Everyone has forgotten
their own peril. They all stared, riveted, at the
desperate woman in the front of the plane. Then a man
stands up in the rear of the plane.

He is gorgeous, tall, built, with reddish-blond hair
and hazel eyes, he starts to walk slowly up the aisle,
unbuttoning his shirt

......one button at a time.

......No one moves.

.......He removes his shirt.

.....Muscles ripple across his chest

......he whispers:

....."Iron this"