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    Giving In
    Giving In
    Giving In
    Ebook59 pages48 minutes

    Giving In

    By Alison Tyler

    3/5

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    About this ebook


    Ellis is unemployed, broke and nearly homeless – until her best friend Sasha whisks her away to a Venetian villa to stay with a family friend. But her dream of a relaxing escape is shattered when she spies Sasha being spanked and seduced by their sexy, dominant host. Ellis quickly realises the guests at the villa want her to join their intense erotic games, but she's never indulged such fantasies outside of her naughty stories. Now she has the chance to act them out…but does she have the courage to give in?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins Publishers Australia
    Release dateJul 1, 2012
    ISBN9781460884324
    Giving In
    Author

    Alison Tyler

    Called a “Trollop with a Laptop” by East Bay Express, Alison Tyler is naughty and she knows it. Her sultry short stories have appeared in more than 100 anthologies including Coupling edited by Sommer Marsden and Sex for America edited by Stephen Elliott. She is the author of more than 25 erotic novels and the editor of more than 75 explicit anthologies, including Alison’s Wonderland and 69. Visit www.alisontyler.com 24/7 as she’s a total insomniac.

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      Book preview

      Giving In - Alison Tyler

      Ellis is unemployed, broke and nearly homeless—until her best friend Sasha whisks her away to a Venetian villa to stay with a family friend. But her dream of a relaxing escape is shattered when she spies Sasha being spanked and seduced by their sexy, dominant host.

      Ellis quickly realizes the guests at the villa want her to join their intense erotic games, but she’s never indulged such fantasies outside of her naughty stories. Now she has the chance to act them out…but does she have the courage to give in?

      GIVING IN

      Alison Tyler

      www.millsandboon.com.au

      Contents

      Giving In

      Copyright

      I can’t afford the airfare.

      When will you have an opportunity like this again?

      I can’t even afford a fucking taxi to the airport! I never thought I’d allow myself to fail in such a spectacular manner. At 34, I was below rock bottom. I’d hit silt. Unless a fairy godmother suddenly arrived in a flutter of translucent wings, I had no way to pay rent. I didn’t even know where my next meal was coming from.

      El, I have miles.

      Miles? Was that a man? Would Miles help me?

      "Airplane miles. I’ll cash them in. You know I don’t like traveling alone."

      I glanced around at my surroundings. The small bedroom belonged to a distant cousin—three times removed, by marriage not blood. The watered-down family connection hadn’t cut me any slack. Coldhearted Joyce loved cats more than humans. I knew she would put me out on the street as easily as any other deadbeat tenant if I couldn’t pay her rent money.

      I don’t have any cash, I said, drawing a pattern with the quarters on my dresser. I’d changed my last few bills into coins to make the money last longer. I mean, I can hardly afford… The tears came then, even though I’m known for never crying. I can’t afford New York anymore, I said, and I can’t afford to go back home. Not that there was anyone waiting for me. My next apartment is a cardboard box under the bridge.

      I know what’s going on with you, honey, Sasha said. Don’t worry.

      If you take me to Venice, I won’t be able to pay for anything. Food. Gas. Tickets. Toilet paper.

      Uncle Stefan will take care of everything. He always does.

      Uncle Stefan?

      He’s the one with the place in Venice. Not really an uncle—an old family friend. He’s invited me to bring a guest to come stay. You won’t have to pay for a thing. I know you need to get out of the city. Let’s get.

      What will I do with my stuff?

      I’d been pondering this question for the past few days. I knew I was going to have to move out of Joyce’s place on the first. And unless I got lucky with a generous one-night stand who might let me crash on his sofa and bring along my few pitiful belongings, I’d run out of options. Forget Blanche DuBois and her kindness of strangers. I needed the kindness of anyone.

      Box up your gear, and bring it to my place. You should have moved in with me when you first lost your job. We room well together.

      Sasha and I had met in the college dorm. But I hadn’t wanted her to know how close to the edge I’d gotten myself. I hadn’t even been honest with myself.

      I’m booking the flight right now, she said. I’ll be over in an hour to help you move.

      And that was my goodbye to the U.S. and my hello to Italy. Right when I needed saving.

      * * *

      Business class was sublime. Sasha and I floated on champagne all the way to Brussels, with my oldest friend describing the place where we’d be staying. The villa has been in his family for generations, she explained. One of those grand palazzos on a canal.

      What does he do?

      She smiled.

      Why are you smiling like that?

      He doesn’t really do anything. He doesn’t have to. She sipped her champagne thoughtfully. Or rather, he does whatever he wants to. With money like that, he can do as pleases. I didn’t hear another word about Uncle Stefan, even during our layover or the final part of the journey to VCE in Venice. I conjured an image in my head: sixties, like her parents. Heavyset. I gave him a baldpate and a bit of gout.

      Then I let the champagne take over and

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