A COUPLE OF MONTHS AGO, I was late-night channel-surfing and caught the tail end of Moonraker, the campy old James Bond flick in which Agent 007 both saves the world and enjoys zero-gravity sex with Dr. Holly Goodhead. (Nice day at the office.) As they embraced in a free-floating tumble, I realized something very important: I wanna do that.

You see, I have always been a space geek. So having sex above the stratosphere has long been on my list of adventure goals. But until recently, all I could do was dream. These days—thanks to the burgeoning space-tourism industry—the concept of the 100-mile-high club is starting to seem seriously feasible.

So I decided to become an "early adopter" and go for it. Step one was to ask my wife, Ashley, if she would consent to climbing aboard a souped-up jetliner so we could make out in a setting that was more likely to induce nausea than bliss.

"As long as we never tell my grandmother," she said, "I'll do anything."

This is why I married her! Next small detail: I needed to find a way to get us into space. But I soon learned that this mode of adventure travel is hideously expensive—currently costing as much as $40 million for a single orbital flight for two. Fortunately, I came across Zero Gravity Corporation, a more affordable option based in Dania Beach, Florida. The CEO there is Peter Diamandis, the same guy who runs the X Prize Foundation, which awards millions of dollars to private companies that achieve clever, cost-efficient milestones in spaceflight. Zero Gravity operates G-Force One, a modified Boeing 727 that uses radical maneuvers—pilots take the aircraft up and down in drastic 10,000-foot free falls—to give passengers 30-second periods of weightlessness, typically 15 to 20 times per flight. Zero Gravity won't exactly put you in orbit, but for a mere $3,750 per person, it's the next best thing.

Even so, when I told Ashley about it, she sounded more fretful than thrilled. "Will there be other people onboard?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, "but don't worry: There will be plenty of private nooks and crannies." Bond himself couldn't have told a smoother lie.