Fifty Shades Book 1 - Page 131

"Anastasia," Christian summons me. "Come." He holds out his hand.

"See you later." I smile at Taylor, and giving me a quick salute, he heads back to the 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... gliding! 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 p.a.w.nee. 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 c.o.c.kpit with two seats one in front of the other. It's attached by a long white cable to a small, conventional single-propeller plane. Benson opens the large, clear Perspex dome that frames the c.o.c.kpit, 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 fromActually, part of me is terrified. My inner G.o.ddess - 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 c.o.c.kpit 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 stomach 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 c.o.c.kpit 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 b.u.mpy, and in front of us, the single prop plane is still on the ground. Jeez, will we ever get upAnd suddenly, my stomach disappears 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 Jose 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 Jose'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 pressures of his job.