Even Deeper Read online

  Even Deeper

  By Alison Tyler

  Praise …

  “Unpredictable, honest and raw.”

  —Cara Sutra

  “Tyler is a master wordsmith.”

  —City Book Review

  “The prose is pristine and beautiful.”

  —Amos Lassen

  “…derived from the personal longings and desires from the author’s colorful palette of sexual experiences.”

  —New York Journal of Books

  “When I was finished, I wanted to start reading all over again…”

  —Insatiable Desire

  “From the first sentence to the last, I was entranced…”

  —Clitical

  ISBN: 157612-368-5

  Entire contents copyright © 2006 through 2015 by Alison Tyler

  Photo copyright © 2015 by Riendo

  All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, or television reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This erotic short story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Erotic Content: Adults Only!

  Table of Contents

  Introduction: The X-Rated Theater of My Mind

  Chapter One: The Parisian Dream

  Chapter Two: Brat

  Chapter Three: Sex In the Air

  Chapter Four: Tease

  Chapter Five: Bonjour Paris

  Chapter Six: Whipping Post

  Chapter Seven: Love Struck

  Chapter Eight: Secret

  Chapter Nine: Puppet Master

  Chapter Ten: Guilty

  Chapter Eleven: Rough

  Chapter Twelve: Always Watching

  Chapter Thirteen: Change

  Bonus Excerpt

  About the Author

  Introduction

  Welcome back to the story of Jack, Samantha, and Alex. Yes, Jack’s name goes first. That’s intentional. That’s what he’d expect. You’ve made it to Paris—or almost to Paris. You’ve arrived at the airport with your bags packed and passport in hand. Hold on. Let me lead you to your seat in first class. Would you care for champagne? A warm towel?

  I’ll sit at your side and tell you everything. At least, I will tell you to the best of my abilities. Some of the past is a blur, of course. Even the clearest memories would have to be altered after all this time. I’m not so different from the average girl looking back through the years.

  What do I have to help? Diaries and notebooks. Scraps of paper that I tucked into various books I was reading at the time. I’m a packrat in many ways. I’ve saved so much. But for some of the scenes, I simply have to close my eyes and I’m back. Like that. I can not only visualize a room, but also smell the smoke and the whiskey. Not only imagine the way my lovers looked, but touch them. Reach out and stroke their skin. Run my fingers over the fine lines of muscles, the hard bodies.

  Yes, I’m gazing on all this from a distance. I’m not twenty-two anymore. There are images, though, that might as well be tattooed on my skin. They are so vibrant, so filled with endless rich color. Rubies and sapphire. Dark emerald and violent fuchsia. A photograph burned into me forever.

  Sometimes I wish I could write for days. Sit down and explain everything. Take you to the future with me so that you could fully understand the past. Instead, I do my best. I try to give you the moment. I try to hand it over, glossy, wrapped, like a present to open. A dream to climb inside.

  For me, looking back is hazy. As if I’m watching something filmed underwater. Or grainy, like a movie from fifty years ago. But a gorgeous movie. A movie with depth. With resonance.

  Thank you for sitting in that dark theater with me.

  The dark, X-rated theater of my mind.

  XXX,

  Alison Tyler

  Chapter One: The Parisian Dream

  Start with the dream of Paris.

  If you’ve been there, then you know what I mean.

  If you haven’t, then you’ve seen the pictures. The movies. The postcard images. Not only the Eiffel Tower, of course, but the silver snaking Seine River and the awe-inspiring antique architecture. The fashionable ladies and the lazy cafés.

  Start with that.

  I’ve been to Paris nearly a dozen times now. My first visit, at eighteen, was filled with romance. Textbook romance. A handsome, blue-eyed Frenchman squired me around to the smallest parks in Paris and made out with me in rose-scented gardens. (When we met, he thought I was from Italy, and he spoke to me in Italian.) I still have the photos and cards he sent, ones I used to decorate my dorm. Pictures of his arms and his chest. Pictures of his striking blue eyes.

  So I’ve lived the Parisian dream.

  But add Jack to the mix. Add in Jack’s desires. His wants and needs. His craving for late night adventures of the kinkiest variety. That’s all I could think about as we finally made our way to the airport. As we prepared to board the plane. As Jack kissed me on the cheek and said, “Something’s happened at work, sweetheart. I’ll be catching up with you by Monday. I promise.”

  “You what?” I turned to him, not comprehending. He’d told me before that Alex was going to meet us. That Alex had our luggage. So there had been no warning, and my heart felt as if it was going to stop. I gripped on to Jack’s hand, not wanting to let go.

  Alex stood by the gate, and Jack handed me over. Attempted to, anyway.

  “Jack—”

  “Go with Alex. He’ll explain. Don’t worry, Samantha.”

  I stammered something, feeling too rushed, confused by the commotion in the airport around us. The bustle of other passengers. I was sure that people were looking at us. Me and Jack and Alex, such an odd threesome. Then Alex peeled my fingers from Jack, and he led me, somewhat shell-shocked, into the first-class section. I'd fantasized about the plane ride with Jack, but Alex was the one to smile at the flight attendant and order us two glasses of champagne.

  “Jack’s really not coming?” I could hardly manage to speak. Tears threatened to spill free, and Alex watched me cautiously, as if afraid I might go off.

  “He’s coming, but not today.” He settled back, as if ready to go to sleep.

  “How long have you known? Was this part of a plan, or did something come up?”

  “Crisis at work,” Alex explained, “You have to expect that sort of thing with Jack.”

  “But we’ve been planning this… he’s been planning this…”

  Alex shrugged. “You’re going to Paris,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “Don’t cause a scene now. Jack wouldn’t like it.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “He’ll find out.”

  Nothing was ever what it seemed with us, was it? The flight attendant, bringing our drinks, asked if we were on our honeymoon, and I had the urge to say, “No, this is the boy my boyfriend likes to fuck.” But I downed the champagne quickly, instead.

  “Slow down, baby,” Alex whispered to me. “It’s a long fucking flight. I’d hate to have to tune you up in the bathroom.” His fingertips automatically went for the metal belt buckle at his waist. He would, too. I knew Alex well enough now. He would have no problem punishing me even in a tiny space—and he’d gleefully report the incident to Jack afterwards.

  I stared meekly out the window. Why had Jack waited until we’d arrived at the airport to tell me he was going to be delayed? That was an easy question to answer. I would have pitched a fit and forced him to deal with me, to take care of me, so that our flight would have been momentarily forgotten.

  Why did he want me to travel with Alex ins
tead of him? Or was Alex merely a babysitter on the journey, someone to hold my hand, someone to make sure I obeyed? I didn’t know. I couldn’t imagine.

  Alex reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a letter. He handed it over and then yawned and crossed his long legs, settling in to sleep.

  I opened the envelope with trembling fingers. Was Jack breaking up with me? Was this trip a consolation prize for having lasted this long? My eyes scanned the note.

  No. Thank fucking god. It was simply a letter from Jack. A normal Jack-type of letter. Not one bit apologetic, although slightly explanatory. There’d been a fiasco at work. Not his fault, but something he’d had to stay and deal with. He would catch up within a day or two, but he didn’t want me to be penalized for this drama. Alex could take me around. Alex could shop with me. And Alex—the letter warned—was responsible for me in every way.

  I looked over at my partner, and then I returned to the letter.

  Responsible for my pleasure. Responsible for my pain. I was to listen to what Jack’s assistant had to say. I was to do exactly as Alex told me. Or I would suffer more than Alex’s own punishment—I would suffer at the hands of Jack.

  The letter resolved some of my issues. By the time Jack arrived, I’d be over any jet lag. I’d have new outfits to show off, and most likely fresh marks from Alex’s belt to expose.

  I settled in next to Alex, closing my eyes as I felt one of his hands on my thigh, resting there, just gently, as if to put me at ease. But for a variety of reasons, I could not sit still. Yes, I was coming off seven days of spanking. So I was shifting for comfort reasons. But also because I felt lost. Los Angeles disappeared behind us, and that meant Jack was somewhere down below. Somewhere working—focused on his case.

  Alex wasn’t restless the way I was. In fact, Alex was out. Sleeping hard, with a soft gray blanket tossed over him, face totally relaxed.

  I envied him. Relaxing isn’t my best skill. I am highly strung, and I like to move. It took all of my strength not to kick Alex awake, not to accidentally on purpose nudge him until he could entertain me. I pulled out a notebook and tried my best to work on a story, but I ended up staring at the blank paper, mocked by the thin blue lines tattooed on the stark white.

  What I wanted most was to talk to Jack. I read his letter over and over, but found no hidden clues. I drank a bit too much champagne, in spite of Alex’s warning that the flight was a good twelve hours. That I didn’t need to arrive in Paris with a headache. Finally, I curled up with my hand under Alex’s blanket and stroked his chest until he stirred.

  “Sleep, Sam. Shut your eyes and go to sleep.”

  “You know something,” I started immediately.

  “Yeah? I know a lot of things.”

  “No, I mean, Jack told you something. He gave you instructions.”

  Alex shrugged.

  “How long did you know he wasn’t going to come with us?

  Alex shot me his standard smile. He wasn’t talking.

  “How long did you know that you were going to come?”

  No response.

  “He must have given you some warning,” I continued, “I mean, you’d have had to pack. To get ready…”

  “What does it matter, Sam?” Alex retorted. “He’ll follow in a day or so. As soon as he can. We have plenty of things to do while we wait.”

  “Like what?”

  Again the smile.

  “Jesus, Alex, try to see this from my perspective.”

  “I don’t need to,” he said. “You’re going to Paris. Your boyfriend’s paid your way. You’re staying at one of the nicest hotels in the city. Why do you want to rock the boat?”

  “Because I like to know what’s going on.”

  “Jack doesn’t want you to know. Isn’t that good enough for you?”

  I considered this for a moment. In my head I heard the word “No.” It wasn’t good enough. I wanted answers. I wanted to know precisely what we were going to do when we landed. Was I to share a room with Alex? Was I to share a bed?

  Frustrated, I stared out the window. If Jack had been next to me, things would have been different. That, I was sure of. He’d have whispered sexy plans to me. He’d have kissed my champagne lips, stroked my hair, told me decadent stories of what awaited us when the plane touched the ground. Alex was enjoying my discomfort. He liked to see me off balance, and he adored being in charge. What a strange beast he was. So willing to be led by Jack, yet equally enthralled by the taste of power given to him in situations like this one.

  Why couldn’t I be in charge for once? Why couldn’t I wear the belt, lead Alex around with threats of torment?

  I looked at my traveling partner. He appeared not to have a care in the world. I wanted to slap him. His eyes opened slightly, and he tilted his head, peeking at me.

  “You are going to rock the boat,” he said, not a question now, a statement. “You’re going to test your boundaries, because that’s what you do. Don’t think Jack hasn’t planned for that, angel. Don’t believe for an instant that you can come up with something to do that won’t have a direct consequence already thought out by your man.” He closed his eyes again, and in moments, I sensed he’d fallen back to sleep.

  The flight attendant came by with wine in preparation for the first food course.

  “Pass on it,” Alex whispered before she hit our row. “You don’t want to be drunk when we land.”

  I ignored him, snagging a glass of white and turning to look out the window. I tried not to sulk but was unable to stop myself.

  When Alex sat up and put one arm around me, I flinched away. He tightened his grip, leaning forward to whisper into my ear, whisper the way I’d imagined that Jack would have had he been on the plane with me. His entire attitude had changed, his voice menacing enough to send icy shudders racing through me.

  “You need a spanking that bad, Sam? You need me to take you into the bathroom and show you how long twelve hours can truly be? Just let me know, baby, and I will….”

  Chapter Two: Brat

  I glared at him.

  "That expression makes me want to slap you.”

  Had he heard Jack talk to me like this? Because listening to Alex was like hearing an echo of my man. A recording played back for me.

  Alex’s eyes were blazing, but I didn't look away.

  The threat of being punished on an airplane might seem just like that. A threat. What could Alex do to me with all of these witnesses around? How far would he actually be willing to go? Would he really want to experience the embarrassment of everyone looking at us as we re-emerged from the tiny bathroom if he meant to try to spank me there? Or was he planning on putting me over his lap in the first-class seat and punishing me in public?

  Suddenly, I didn’t want to find out.

  As suddenly, Alex seemed wide-awake and ready to play.

  “Don’t you think Jack gave me instructions for how to deal with your different moods?”

  Why had I needed to mess with Alex? Because I was upset. I didn’t like the thought that Jack hadn’t trusted me with the fact that he wasn’t traveling with us. I didn’t like the thought that I’d been casually handed over to his assistant.

  Sure, Alex was more than an assistant. Far more. But Jack was… Jack was everything. When Jack was present, playing with Alex became a sort of bonus. When the two of us were alone together, the dynamics changed dramatically. Alex stepped into Jack’s shoes—tried to, anyway. Even if he was a capable Baby Dom, he wasn’t my man.

  While I watched, he pulled a red leather blindfold from his case. I pushed back in my chair. I didn’t want to wear that. From the look in Alex’s eyes, I realized that I didn’t have a choice.

  “I’m reporting to him when we land,” Alex said. “It’s like a simple flowchart. One even you could understand. If A, then B. If B then C. There are specific rules for me to follow. You’re misbehaving, and I’m to deal with you. If I fail, then don’t you think I have to face my own repercussions?”
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br />   I wanted to see him face those. I enjoyed the thought of Alex failing. My feelings for him were so twisted. Sometimes, I wanted nothing more than to suck him off. Sometimes, when I was over his lap, or watching him stroke his leather belt in a mirror of Jack’s favorite move, I felt a wave of lust specifically for him. Then there were times like now, when he moved forward and fastened the straps under my hair, that I hated him.

  It’s like a sleep mask, I told myself.

  But it wasn’t. It was a blindfold. I no longer could watch to see what Alex was going to do next. Instantly, I was docile, head turned toward the window that might as well have been a wall for all the use it was to me. Alex brought the wineglass to my lips, offering me a sip. In friendship? No. Simply to show he was boss. Did I want wine? Then he would pour the liquid into my mouth.

  He covered me with one of the dove-gray blankets next, and I felt his hands on my body, pushing my short skirt up to my thighs. He didn’t have any intent on punishing me. He was going to try to fuck me. Was that part of Jack’s instructions. If she’s bratty, make her come? I kept my mouth shut, fearful that there would be a ball gag in Alex’s bag.

  I knew we weren’t the first couple to become amorous on an airplane. But would we be the first to play kinky little bondage games? Because magically, Alex had my wrists captured behind my back, so that I was forced into a position of perfect posture. I could feel the bindings holding my wrists together. He had thought of everything—or Jack had. No metal to set off any alarms through the detectors. Soft fabric with fastening tabs. Secure enough so that I was caught precisely how Alex wanted me.

  “Face me,” he said, and I shifted my hips, blindfold still on, my bound wrists against the wall of the plane.

  “Now spread your thighs.”

  I had on black stockings that attached to garters—I’d been hoping for some romance in the air, but with Jack, not Alex. Stockings were far easier than nylons for sex play. Alex slid my panties aside with two fingers, and I steeled myself, unsure of what he was planning. What he was thinking. What he was…