Free Giving In by Alison Tyler Page B

Had I landed a lover who’d taken me back to his place for a one-night fuck? No. The bed was empty except for me. Slowly, I remembered where I was, but I didn’t feel tired anymore. The excitement built with each breath.
    I was in Venice! How could I sleep?
    My watch read 2:00 a.m. I climbed out of bed and reached into my suitcase for my Walkman, thinking that a little Peter Gabriel might lull me back to dreamland. But when I clicked the on button, my ancient machine refused to do more than whine and sputter. The batteries had given up their alkaline ghost. Maybe Sasha had extras. Did I dare to go creeping through a house I didn’t know in order to find my friend?
    Right then, I heard a noise that sounded like clapping. For a moment, I stayed still, trying to orient myself. I’d been rushed through the house to this guest room when we’d arrived. Sasha had promised me a full tour in the morning. I’d caught glimpses of canvases framed in gold, of porcelain vases taller than I was, of a central room tiled in black-and-white marble. But I didn’t have any sense of where I was in the house.
    The noise didn’t stop, and I found myself compelled to investigate. Quietly, I tiptoed out of the bedroom. The scent of honeysuckle was in the air. Sasha’s favorite perfume. I strode along the hallway, doing my best to be silent. The old place was creaky. I walked on my toes down the darkened hall. I could hear the noise getting louder, and I could also hear something else: the sound of a woman crying.
    When I arrived at my friend’s room, I planned to simply push on the door and walk in. But something caught my eye and I stopped. The door was open a crack. A shaft of dust-shimmered light fell on the hallway runner. I was standing on an antique rug in my bare feet. The fibers were well-worn, yet decadent at the same time. I noticed how deep and lush the colors were in the rug. Every thought in my head seemed to be moving in slow motion. Maybe I ought not to interrupt. Who was I to barge in?
    Carefully, I pressed closer to the crack in the door.
    What I saw was something shocking. Sasha was over a man’s lap, and her lemon-yellow nightgown was pushed up to her slim hips. She didn’t have on panties, and her long, lean legs flailed in the air. The man was spanking her naked ass with a hard-backed black hairbrush, and Sasha’s feet were kicking with each blow.
    After the initial shock of the scene wore off, I took a second to stare at the man punishing my best friend. He was one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen in real life. Dark hair, dark eyes, a stern expression on his face. Not angry so much as fully focused.
    The concept of what I was witnessing did not immediately compute in my mind. I’d known Sasha since freshman year of college. We’d discussed many boyfriends, dating, lovers. Kink had rarely come up before. Was I dreaming? I bit my lip hard, hoping against hope I didn’t wake up back in Joyce’s humble Brooklyn digs.
    No. I was still here. In Venice. Watching my best friend receive a bottom-blistering spanking. And from what I could see, I’d missed most of the show. Sasha’s normally pale skin was cherry-hued.
    “Lou’s been waiting for you,” the man said. “He wanted me to tell you that he’ll be going here tonight.”
    He licked his finger and parted Sasha’s rear cheeks. Gently, he touched her asshole. Sasha shivered. So did I.
    Sasha was going to fuck Lou? The man looked like a bouncer outside one of the meaner New York clubs. I crossed my legs, but kept staring through the crack in the door.
    “You’re such a tease, girl. He’s been waiting since December,” the man continued, and now I watched, my mouth open, as he slowly started to push his finger into her hole. My pussy tightened as I continued to stare, as the man firmly began to finger-fuck her asshole. “And you’re going to let him, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, sir.” Her response was barely audible.
    “Why?”
    “Because I’m a