Lavinia was enjoying her holiday: the sun was hot, the sky was clear and she was away from all the many cares and concerns of her job. She was by the pool, under a parasol, getting her lips round an enormous lolly (in a way which had caused a waiter at the poolside bar to spill a drink) when she noticed, once again, the colourful butterflies of the paragliders drifting, floating and twisting in the sky above her. They drifted in droves down from the mountains to land, with variable amounts of delicacy, on patches of grass in front of the beach. Her initial reaction had been “rather them than me!” but as they came overhead several times a day she began to think that this was a very well established service and consequently one to be trusted. Holidaymakers each went with an experienced pilot, after all
She further distressed the waiter when she dealt with the drips of melted lolly which were adorning her well-oiled frontery, before slipping into her gauzy coverup in preparation for a walk. Lavinia felt she should not walk in the resort streets in just a bikini (though others did)but her efforts to be more demure were foiled; The word coverup was possibly inappropriate as the fabric was SO gauzy and fine that the gentle ripples of breeze simply had fun with it. They flicked it around her curves, clinging momentarily, then fluttering away and generally performing their own teasing show as she walked.
She was a decisive person. Having decided that she would try the paragliding she simply booked it, leaning her barely contained jellicles over the page as the agent filled in details. The shadow of her chestage made his writing go a little wobbly. She was confirmed on the last flight of the day.
Lavinia got dressed, and as it was still very hot she chose a little dress which had small net inlays around the waist to encourage breezes. They needed no encouragement to waft in and wrap themselves around her soft belly. She pulled on some trainers and made her way to the meeting point.
Once on the minibus for the trip up the mountain to the launch site, she could feel her excitement mounting. Around her, other passengers chatted awkwardly, or giggled nervously, or even cried. But she was determined to enjoy every stage of the experience, and eagerly looked out of the windows at the scenery as the winding road raised them by turns higher and higher above the resort. The mountain fell away more and more steeply as they got higher, the vegetation got thinner and spikier, and eventually disappeared completely as they neared the top. The pilots lounged in their familiar seats, casually dressed in shorts, like the surf dudes of Australia. They chatted amongst themselves – the journey was routine to them.
On leaving the minibus, Lavinia felt a firm hand rest on her arm, and looked up to see one of the pilots smiling at her. His skin was dark, his eyes were darker. In the brilliant sunshine he was almost a muscular silhouette. “Come with me” he said in a voice which was soft and as dark brown as the rest of him. She followed, her heart beating in her chest with an intensity which was not entirely due to the vertiginous environment in which she found herself. The ground sloped away out of view, looking as though if you stepped too far you would inevitably tumble out into space. Her mouth was dry. The pilot was ahead of her, further down the slope, arranging the cords of the chute which was spread on the ground. “Come here, come here” he urged. At this moment there was probably no-one else on earth who could have induced her to, but the chocolate tones of his voice, combined with the muscular outlines of his limbs and torso as he clambered nimbly around drew her forward, little by little. He stood up as she got near, and, reaching behind, lifted the harness up onto her shoulders. It hung there and he reached down, ready to catch the last strap which went between her legs. There was a moment of stillness, a tense pause in which two sets of blood pressure rose dangerously high. At this point Lavinia had a passing thought that shorts would have been a better choice. It was only a passing thought though, as the moment when his strong hand brushed against her thighs was, in every possible sense, a seminal one for them both. He looked up at her, as if to apologise, but that seemed unnecessary. Their eyes met and in an instant, shook hands, exchanged smalltalk and agreed a date.
It was at this moment his helmet came out.
Then he produced one for her too
A few moments later he was behind her in the harness. “Walk forward” he had said. “Don’t sit down til I tell you”
Lavinia felt she would do absolutely anything he said, and not only because she was about to be launched into the air with him.
They walked forward a few steps and the chute, ably prepared by a helper behind, billowed out and carried them upwards.
She took a moment to gather her senses: the view was awe-inspiring. After a few moments the pilot gently removed her helmet and clipped it to the harness. Her long luscious hair immediately fluttered in the breeze, and in the pilot’s face. She muttered an apology and raised a hand to secure it. She felt the pilot lean forward, his cheek against hers, and whisper quietly “It’s ok. Don’t worry” After a moment she was aware of him nuzzling into her long blonde hair, and could smell his cologne…
He pointed out features of landscape as he always did, carefully using a right arm to indicate things to their left, and vice versa, as this meant reaching his dark, muscular surf-dude arm right across her body. He told her to relax and lay back, and she did, resting her head against the back of the harness. In this position he could look over her shoulder, down at her amply-filled cornets and watch the wind ripple the thin dress around. Even up here the breezes had a sense of occasion and were making the most of it.
For Lavinia, the sense of floating in the sky engulfed, as it felt, in strong manly arms, the drifting wafts of masculine cologne, the stubbly cheek and chin pressing tenderly into her hair, entirely did away with any fear – except the fear that it would end.
The pilot, for his part, (obliged to keep at least one hand on the control cords, responsible for their safety) experienced the exquisite torture of her proximity; her soft fine hair tickling his manly cheeks, her perfume, the memory of the moment he legitimately touched her thighs, the sight of the winds glorying in her volumptuous heavages. He had cause to be glad that the harnesses were roomy as he found himself requiring more space over his lap than usual
He leaned forward, his stubbly, manly jaw against her cheek and whispered “Would you like a swoop?” This was not a question for which Lavinia was prepared, but she was an adventurer, so she said yes. He murmured “put your arms out wide” and after a pause added “Like in Titanic” This might have made some people nervous but the nearest ice was in only cocktails so Lavinia complied. The pilot adjusted the cords and they did, indeed, swoop, dropping a little over a valley before being caught by the winds and arched up the side of the mountains.
“Thermals” whispered the pilot. “Very hot…..very hot” his voice trailed slightly, his dark manly lips fittingly hot against her ear.
Swoop completed, Lavinia would have agreed (if asked) that things were indeed very hot. She lowered her arms, only to find they came down to rest on his muscular, hairy thighs. She started slightly. He didn’t. He merely whispered “relax and enjoy” into her now very hot ear.
“I am!” she assured him, “I wish it would go on forever”
“We have to land….30 minutes is all which is allowed” he whispered
“Also I have not eaten all day. This is the last flight.”
“When I go down, I am very hungry” he added meaningfully, gazing over her shoulder at her curveaceous softliness all laid out above him. The thin dress had blown up and her grapplable thighs were exposed almost completely.
“Are you hungry too?”
Lavinia suddenly realised she was, in fact, extremely hungry. They were descending low now, over the hotels, the swimming pool by which she had been laying with her lolly in what seemed like a other world. In this heat the lolly was now inadequate…
They were preparing to land: “Stand up when I tell you, and walk” the pilot whispered, his voice briefly authoritative. They seemed to come in quite fast, and then as the ground surged up in front of them, without a jolt they slowed rapidly so that as she heard his voice say “stand up” her feet touched the ground. They had come to a perfect halt, and yet the ground had moved. In fact, it was still moving.
Behind her the pilot unclipped things. Harnesses dropped to the ground around her, and she stood, curvulocious and nubile before him with her little ventilated dress rippling around her; the land-based breezes were claiming their moment.
“Are you still hungry?” the pilot asked. Lavinia gazed at him, having been unable to see him during the flight she had some catching up to do: he was still as musculariously dark as before, and his bristly jawline was very handsome. The air swirling around them was dry, but Lavinia was starting to feel quite moist.
“I’m starving” she said
He nodded, and after pausing only to roll up and pack the chute, they walked inland to his apartment. There were cold drinks here, and there was plenty of food but none got eaten for a long time, as the pilot was busy pulling all the correct cords and navigating his way around. Lavinia didn’t want it to end, but of course it did.
So they did it again