that she’s excited…and so am I. This is a first.
“Let’s go.” With her hand in mine once more, I lead Ana over the helipad to Charlie Tango. The safest Eurocopter in her class and a delight to fly. She’s my pride and joy. I hold the door open for Ana; she scrambles inside and I climb in behind her.
“Over there,” I order, pointing to the front passenger seat. “Sit. Don’t touch anything.” I’m amazed when she does as she’s told.
Once in her seat, she examines the array of instruments with a mixture of awe and enthusiasm. Crouching down beside her, I strap her into the seat harness, trying not to imagine her naked as I do it. I take a little longer than is necessary because this might be my last chance to be this close to her, my last chance to inhale her sweet, evocative scent. Once she knows about my predilections she may flee…on the other hand, she may embrace the lifestyle. The possibilities this conjures in my mind are almost overwhelming. She’s watching me intently, she’s so close…so lovely. I tighten the last strap. She’s not going anywhere. Not for an hour at least.
Suppressing my excitement, I whisper, “You’re secure. No escaping.” She inhales sharply. “Breathe, Anastasia,” I add, and caress her cheek. Holding her chin, I lean down and kiss her quickly. “I like this harness,” I mutter. I want to tell her I have others, in leather, in which I’d like to see her trussed and suspended from the ceiling. But I behave, sit down, and buckle up.
“Put your cans on.” I point to the headset in front of Ana. “I’m just going through all the preflight checks.” All instruments look good. I press the throttle to 1500 rpm, transponder to stand-by, and position beacon on. Everything is set and ready to go.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” she asks with wonder. I inform her that I’ve been a fully qualified pilot for four years. Her smile is infectious.
“You’re safe with me,” I reassure her, and add, “Well, while we’re flying.” I give her a wink, she beams, and I’m dazzled.
“Are you ready?” I ask—and I can’t quite believe how excited I am to have her here beside me.
She nods.
I talk to the tower—they’re awake—and increase the throttle to 2000 rpm. Once they’ve given us clearance I do my final checks. Oil temperature is at 104. Good. I increase the manifold pressure to 14, the engine to 2500 rpm, and pull back on the throttle. And like the elegant bird she is… Charlie Tango rises into the air.
Anastasia gasps as the ground disappears below us, but sheholds her tongue, entranced by the waning lights of Portland. Soon we are shrouded in darkness; the only light emanates from the instruments before us. Ana’s face is illuminated by the red and green glow as she stares into the night.
“Eerie, isn’t it?”
Though I don’t find it so. To me this is a comfort. Nothing can harm me here.
I’m safe and hidden in the dark.
“How do you know you’re going the right way?” Ana asks.
“Here.” I point to the panel. I don’t want to bore her talking about instrument flight rules, but the fact is it’s all the equipment in front of me that guides us to our destination: the attitude indicator, the altimeter, the VSI, and of course the GPS. I tell her about Charlie Tango, and how she’s equipped for night flight.
Ana looks at me, amazed.
“There’s a helipad on top of the building I live in. That’s where we’re heading.”
I look back at the panel, checking all the data. This is what I love: the control, my safety and well-being reliant on my mastery of the technology in front of me. “When you fly at night, you fly blind. You have to trust the instrumentation,” I tell her.
“How long will the flight be?” she asks, a little breathless.
“Less than an hour—the wind is in our favor.” I glance at her again. “You okay, Anastasia?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice oddly abrupt.
Is she nervous? Or maybe she’s
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