Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

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 pressures of his job.
    The radio crackles into life, and Mark mentions 3000 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 prepared, 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.
    “Hold tight… keep it steady. See the middle dial in front? Keep the needle dead center.”
    My heart is in my mouth. Holy shit. I am flying a glider… I’m soaring.
    “Good girl.” Christian sounds delighted.
    “I am amazed you let me take control,” I shout.
    “You’d be amazed what I’d let you do, Miss Steele. Back to me now.”
    I feel the joystick move suddenly, and I let go as we spiral down several feet, my ears starting to pop again. The ground is getting closer, and it feels like we could be hitting it shortly. Jeez, that’s scary.
    “BMA, this is BG N Papa 3 Alpha, entering left downwind runway seven to the grass, BMA.” Christian sounds his usual authoritative self. The tower squawks back at him over the radio, but I don’t understand what they say. We sail round again in a wide circle, sinking slowly to the ground. I can see the airport, the landing strips, and we’re flying back over I-95.
    “Hang on, baby. This can get bumpy.”
    After another circle we dip, and suddenly we are on the ground with a brief thump, racing along the grass – holy shit. My teeth chatter as we bump at an alarming speed along the ground, until we finally come to a stop. The plane sways slightly then dips to the right. I take a deep lungful of air while Christian leans over and opens the cockpit lid, clambering out and stretching.
    “How was that?” he asks, and his eyes are a shining, dazzling silver gray. He leans down to unbuckle me.
    “That was extraordinary.