fifty-shades-of-grey

his gray eyes heated. He’s so tantalizingly close. I hold my breath as he pulls at one of theupper straps.“You’re secure, no escaping,” he whispers, his eyes are scorching. “Breathe, Anastasia,”he adds softly. Reaching up, he caresses my cheek, running his long fingers down tomy chin which he grasps between his thumb and forefinger. He leans forward and plantsa brief, chaste kiss on my lips, leaving me reeling, my insides clenching at the thrilling,unexpected touch of his lips.“I like this harness,” he whispers.What?He sits down beside me and buckles himself into his seat, then begins a protracted procedureof checking gauges and flipping switches and buttons from the mind-boggling arrayof dials and lights and switches in front of me. Little lights wink and flash from variousdials, and the whole of the instrument panel lights up.“Put your cans on,” he says, pointing to a set of headphones in front of me. I pop themon, and the rotor blades start. They are deafening. He puts his headphones on and continuesflipping various switches.“I’m just going through all the pre-flight checks.” Christian’s disembodied voice is inmy ears through the headphones. I turn and grin at him.“Do you know what you are doing?” I ask. He turns and smiles at me.“I’ve been a fully qualified pilot for four years, Anastasia, you’re safe with me.” Hegives me a wolfish grin. “Well, while we’re flying,” he adds and winks at me.Winking… Christian!“Are you ready?”I nod wide eyed.“Okay, tower. PDX this is Charlie Tango Golf – Golf Echo Hotel, cleared for take-off.Please confirm, over.”“Charlie Tango - you are clear. PDX to call, proceed to one four thousand, headingzero one zero, over. ”“Roger tower, Charlie Tango set, over and out. Here we go,” he adds to me, and thehelicopter rises slowly and smoothly into the air.Portland disappears in front us as we head into US airspace, though my stomach remainsfirmly in Oregon. Whoa! All the bright lights shrink until they are twinkling sweetlybelow us. It’s like looking out from inside a fish bowl. Once we’re higher, there really isnothing to see. It’s pitch black, not even the moon to shed any light on our journey. Howcan he see where we’re going?“Eerie isn’t it?” Christian’s voice is in my ears.“How do you know you’re going the right way?”“Here.” He points his long index finger at one of the gauges, and it shows an electroniccompass. “This is an EC135 Eurocopter. One of the safest in its class. It’s equipped fornight flight.” He glances and grins at me.“There’s a helipad on top of the building I live in. That’s where we’re heading.”Of course there’s a helipad where he lives. I am so out of my league here. His faceis softly illuminated by the lights on the instrument panel. He’s concentrating hard, andhe’s continually glancing at the various dials in front of him. I drink in his features from