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- Э. Л. Джеймс
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- Пятьдесят оттенков серого
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- Стр. 117/797
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“
Charlie
Tango
—
you
are
clear
.
PDX
to
call
,
proceed
to
one
four
thousand
,
heading
zero
one
zero
,
over
.
”
“
Roger
,
tower
,
Charlie
Tango
set
,
over
and
out
.
Here
we
go
,
”
he
adds
to
me
,
and
the
helicopter
rises
slowly
and
smoothly
into
the
air
.
Portland
disappears
in
front
of
us
as
we
head
into
U
.
S
.
airspace
,
though
my
stomach
remains
firmly
in
Oregon
.
Whoa
!
All
the
bright
lights
shrink
until
they
are
twinkling
sweetly
below
us
.
It
’
s
like
looking
out
from
inside
a
fish
bowl
.
Once
we
’
re
higher
,
there
really
is
nothing
to
see
.
It
’
s
pitch
-
black
,
not
even
the
moon
to
shed
any
light
on
our
journey
.
How
can
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
electronic
compass
.
“
This
is
an
EC135
Eurocopter
.
One
of
the
safest
in
its
class
.
It
’
s
equipped
for
night
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
face
is
softly
illuminated
by
the
lights
on
the
instrument
panel
.
He
’
s
concentrating
hard
,
and
he
’
s
continually
glancing
at
the
various
dials
in
front
of
him
.
I
drink
in
his
features
from
beneath
my
lashes
.
He
has
a
beautiful
profile
.
Straight
nose
,
square
jawed
—
I
’
d
like
to
run
my
tongue
along
his
jaw
.
He
hasn
’
t
shaved
,
and
his
stubble
makes
the
prospect
doubly
tempting
.
Hmm
…
I
’
d
like
to
feel
how
rough
it
is
beneath
my
tongue
,
my
fingers
,
against
my
face
.
“
When
you
fly
at
night
,
you
fly
blind
.
You
have
to
trust
the
instrumentation
,
”
he
says
,
interrupting
my
erotic
reverie
.
