parking lot.

“Mr. Benson, this is my girlfriend Anastasia Steele.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I murmur as we shake hands.

Benson gives me a dazzling smile.

“Likewise,” he says, and I can tell from his accent that he’s British.

As I take Christian’s hand, there’s a mounting excitement in my belly. Wow… glid-

ing!We follow Mark Benson out across the tarmac towards the runway. He and Christian

keep up a running conversation. I catch the gist. We will be in a Blanik L-23, which is

apparently better than the L-13, although this is open to debate. Benson will be flying a

Piper Pawnee. He’s been flying tail draggers for about five years now. It all means nothing

to me, but glancing up at Christian, he is so animated, so in his element, it’s a pleasure to

watch him.

The plane itself is long, sleek, and white with orange stripes. It has a small cockpit

with two seats one in front of the other. It’s attached by a long white cable to a small, con-

ventional single-propeller plane. Benson opens the large, clear Perspex dome that frames

the cockpit, allowing us to climb in.

“First we need to strap on your parachute.”

Parachute!

“I’ll do that,” Christian interrupts him and takes the harness off Benson, who smiles

amenably at him.

“I’ll fetch some ballast,” Benson says and heads toward the plane.

“You like strapping me into things.” I observe dryly.

“Miss Steele, you have no idea. Here, step into the straps.”

I do as I’m told, placing my arm on his shoulder. Christian stiffens slightly but doesn’t

move. Once my feet are in the loops, he pulls the parachute up, and I place my arms

through the shoulder straps. Deftly he fastens the harness and tightens all the straps.

“There, you’ll do,” he says mildly, but his eyes are gleaming. “Do you have your hair

tie from yesterday?”

I nod.

“You want me to put my hair up?”

“Yes.”

I quickly do as I’m asked.

“In you go,” Christian commands. He’s still so bossy. I go to climb into the back.

“No, front. Pilot sits at the back.”

“But won’t you be able to see.”

“I’ll see plenty.” He grins.

I don’t think I have ever seen him so happy, bossy, but happy. I clamber in, settling

down into the leather seat. It is surprisingly comfortable. Christian leans over, pulls the

harness over my shoulders, reaches between my legs for the lower belt, and slots it into the

fastener that rests against my belly. He tightens all the restraining straps.

“Hmm, twice in one morning, I am a lucky man,” he whispers and kisses me quickly.

“This won’t take long – twenty, thirty minutes at most. Thermals aren’t great this time of

the morning, but it’s so breathtaking up there at this hour. I hope you’re not nervous.”

“Excited.” I beam.

Where did this ridiculous grin come from? Actually, part of me is terrified. My inner

goddess – she’s under a blanket behind the sofa.

“Good.” He grins back, stroking my face, then disappears from view.

I hear and feel his movements as he climbs in behind me. Of course he’s strapped me

in so tightly I can’t move round to see him… typical! We are very low on the ground. In

front of me is a panel of dials and levers and a big stick thing. I leave well alone.

Mark Benson appears with a cheerful grin as he checks my straps and leans in and

checks the cockpit floor. I think it’s the ballast.

“Yep, that’s secure. First time?” he asks me.

“Yes.”

“You’ll love it.”

“Thanks, Mr. Benson.”

“Call me Mark.” He turns to Christian. “Okay?”

“Yep. Let’s go.”

I am so glad I haven’t eaten anything. I am beyond excited, and I don’t think my stom-

ach would be game for food, excitement, and leaving the ground. Once again, I am putting

myself into this beautiful man’s skilled hands. Mark shuts the cockpit lid, strolls over to

the plane in front, and climbs in.

The Piper’s single propeller starts, and my nervous stomach relocates itself to my

throat. Jeez… I’m really doing this.Mark taxis slowly down the runway, and as the cable

takes the strain, we suddenly jolt forward. We’re off. I hear chatter over the radio set

behind me. I think it’s Mark talking to the tower – but I can’t make out what he’s saying.

As the Piper picks up speed, so do we. It’s very bumpy, and in front of us, the single prop

plane is still on the ground. Jeez, will we ever get up? And suddenly, my stomach disap-

pears from my throat and free-falls through my body to the ground – we’re airborne.

“Here we go, baby!” Christian shouts from behind me. And we are in our own bubble,

just us two. All I hear is the sound of the wind ripping past and the distant hum of the

Piper’s engine.

I’m gripping the edge of my seat with both hands, so tightly my knuckles are white.

We head west, inland away from the rising sun, gaining height, crossing over fields and

woods and homes and I-95. Oh my.This is amazing, above us only sky. The light is

extraordinary, diffuse and warm in hue, and I remember José rambling on about ‘magic

hour’, a time of day that photographers adore – this is it… just after dawn, and I’m in it,

with Christian.

Abruptly, I’m reminded of José’s show. Hmm. I need to tell Christian. I wonder

briefly how he’ll react. But I won’t worry about that, not now – I’m enjoying the ride. My

ears pop as we gain height, and the ground slips further and further away. It is so peaceful.

I completely get why he likes to be up here. Away from his BlackBerry and all the pres-

sures of his job.

The radio crackles into life, and Mark mentions 3,000 feet. Jeez, that sounds high,. I

check the ground, and I can no longer clearly distinguish anything down there.

“Release,” Christian says into the radio, and suddenly the Piper disappears, and the

pulling sensation provided by the small plane ceases. We’re floating, floating over Georgia.

Holy fuck – it’s exciting.The plane banks and turns as the wing dips, and we spiral

toward the sun. Icarus. This is it.I am flying close to the sun, but he’s with me, leading

me. I gasp at the realization. We spiral and spiral and, the view in this morning light is

spectacular.

“Hold on tight!” he shouts, and we dip again – only this time he doesn’t stop. suddenly,

I am upside down, looking at the ground through the top of the cockpit canopy.

I squeal loudly, my arms automatically lashing out, my hands splayed on the Perspex

to stop me falling. I can hear him laughing. Bastard!But his joy is infectious, and I am

laughing too as he rights the plane.

“I’m glad I didn’t have breakfast!” I shout at him.

“Yes, in hindsight, it’s good you didn’t, because I’m going to do that again.”

He dips the plane once more until we are upside down. This time, because I’m pre-

pared, I hang on to the harness, but it makes me grin and giggle like a fool. He levels the

plane once more.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he calls.

“Yes.”

We fly, swooping majestically through the air, listening to the wind and the silence, in

the early morning light. Who could ask for more?

“See the joy-stick in front of you?” he shouts again.

I look at the stick that is moving slightly between my legs. Oh no,where’s he going

with this?

“Grab hold.”

Oh shit.He’s going to make me fly the plane. No!

“Go on, Anastasia. Grab it,” he urges more vehemently.

Tentatively, I grasp it and feel the pitch and yaw of what I assume are rudders and

paddles or whatever keeps this thing in the air.