Alison turned down the dark city street and looked at the slip of paper with directions. The friend who had told her about the speakeasy wouldn’t even text her the information about it. It was all so elicit and mysterious. It made her heart flutter.
She recently moved back to New York and was determined to enjoy everything the city had to offer. That Saturday, she had been to the Museum of Modern Art, eaten brunch, then went home and slipped into something special. She was wearing a retro-style black dress with little red roses, red high heels, and red matte lipstick. Her dark hair was half pinned up in finger curls.
The place had no official name, or at least none that Alison knew. Her old college friends she went to brunch with only referred to it as “The Speakeasy.” It was down a long cobblestone alley on a dead-end street. It was in that part of the Lower East Side that had old Dutch names for streets, back from when it was New Amsterdam.
She saw the plain, dented metal door that her friend described, but she was unsure if it was the right place. She imagined there would be some kind of sign or signal for the bar, even if it was hidden or in some kind of code. She wrinkled her nose at the dumpster in the alley as she tried to figure out what to do.
As she looked around, she saw a handsome couple walking toward her, two women, both stunning in their own way. The taller of the two had short, slick black hair, like the hair she had seen in pictures of Parisian gay clubs in the 1930s. The couple, arm-in-arm, stopped a bit away from where Alison was standing. They tapped something on their phones, and, in a moment, the metal door opened.
A thick-necked man in a simple black suit greeted the couple with a nod and let them in. When they were inside, Alison shook her head and snapped herself out of her trance, and quickly walked up to the entrance. She grabbed the heavy metal, causing the bouncer to turn and look down at her.
“Can I help you, miss?” He said, his smile vanishing and a serious and somewhat scary frown replacing it.
“I-I’m here for the bar, too,” she said to the tall, imposing man. “I have the password.”
The man looked at her blankly, silently blinking.
“It’s… ‘Incarnata,’” she said, reading off her little note.
When the man didn’t react, she grew flustered. He took a deep breath and looked around to ensure no one else was in the alley.
“The first Saturday of every month, we hold a special member’s only event. I’m afraid I can’t help you this evening,” he said with a little bow.
The man turned to close the door, and Alison stepped back dejectedly. Before the door closed, his phone beeped, and he took it from his jacket pocket.
Another couple walked into the alley, making their way to the door. A tall, bearded man in a black pinstripe suit and a woman in what looked like a chauffeur’s outfit; it was an old outfit, like something from a James Bond movie. As Alison looked at her, recognition passed over her.
“Liv?” she asked.
“Alison?” the chauffeur asked back.
The two embraced somewhat awkwardly.
Olivia was Alison’s college roommate. They had been close friends during school and for some time afterward, but they eventually grew apart like so many college friendships.
“Are you here for the…?” Olivia seemed to struggle to find the word. “Event?”
Alison looked at Olivia’s companion: tall, good-looking, though not the kind of partner she imagined for her old friend.
“Oh, Alison, this is Byron,” Olivia said, appearing unsure of how to introduce him.
Byron smiled cooly and shook Alison’s hand. “Olivia, shall I leave you to chat with your friend for a bit?” he asked, a little formally.
Olivia looked back at him with something like fear in her eyes.
“Oh, would that be alright, sir? Just for a few minutes?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t alright,” he said and then gave her a smile.
He kissed her on the forehead, turned to the doorman, and was led through the mysterious door. For a moment, he met Alison’s eyes, and she felt herself shiver.
“I’m here because a friend told me this was a secret bar. I didn’t know there was a private event tonight,” Alison said, hugging Olivia again.
“Yes, it’s a sex party. Well, more of a BDSM party. Do you know what that is?” Olivia asked, her eyebrows a bit furled.
“Of course, I know what BDSM is. I was your roommate, remember?” Alison said.
“I have to go in; it’s sort of a big night for me. But we should hang out soon. I miss you,” Olivia said, pulling out her phone.
“Yeah, of course. I’m a little mad; I really wanted to see the bar. I came all the way downtown. Then seeing you. Then hearing there is something sexy going on in there. It’s all very intriguing,” Alison said.
Olivia studied her old friend, then typed something on her phone. She waited for some kind of reply before finally saying, “I could bring you as my guest. There are a lot of rules, but basically, you should just look around and not interact with anyone except for Byron and me. Would you be interested in that?”
Alison considered the offer. She wasn’t a prude; she had an old boyfriend who she liked to play rough with spankings and hair pulling and that sort of thing. They’d even gone to a class that taught them how to do some fun things with rope.
And the idea that no one could interact with her, that she could watch and explore without being hit on, was very intriguing.
“Yes,” she said, unsure of what to add.
“Good. Byron thinks it would be fun, too. This is exciting. Just follow my lead,” Olivia said as the door opened, and the bouncer met them once more.
“You’ll have to wear this for the evening if you would like to join us,” the bouncer said to Alison, holding out a very ornate-looking broach, silver with a yellow ribbon entwined in the filigree design. She nodded and allowed him to pin it to her dress.
The man looked at Olivia. “You agree to be accountable for this guest?”
Olivia nodded. “She is my ward for the evening.”
As the door opened, they saw a large nightclub before them with red and gold wallpaper and luxurious oriental rugs. Alison’s eyes went wide as she took in all of the sights of the room.
Olivia smiled back at her as they went to the coat check. The coat checker was a petite woman with doe eyes. She was dressed in what looked like a red hotel bellhop’s uniform. Like everything in the place, there was a feeling of being in another time. Looking around, Alison saw that all of the staff wore red.
The sound of a trumpet brought Alison’s attention to the band on a small stage at the other end of the room. It was a five-piece, with drums, an upright bass, a trumpet, a saxophone, and a tall woman with a guitar who was singing softly.
There was another stage next to the band that was dark, and beside the two stages was a small bar with a handsome bartender shaking a cocktail.
Alison saw couples sitting on couches that lined the walls of the place. Everyone was well-dressed: men in sharp suits and women in little flapper dresses or cocktail gowns, and many in the crowd whose gender she couldn’t identify. Everyone was beautiful.
As the band played low and sultry jazz, they got Champagne, and when Olivia spotted Byron, they walked to a table near the band.
They passed a parquet wooden dance floor that held, instead of dancers, a variety of strange furniture, including leather-covered benches, tall wooden crosses, and what looked like a hospital gurney.
Many of these furnishings were being used by the patrons of the nightclub. The couple she had seen come in earlier were on one of the benches, the butcher of the two leaning over the bench and the femme hitting her with what looked like a riding crop.
On another bench, a man who was tied down with a pretty red rope was being spanked by another man. It was a slow, steady rhythmic spanking. The sound immediately brought Alison back to the games she played with her ex-boyfriend.
They sat, and Byron and Olivia chatted while Alison was hypnotized by the sights around her. She had never seen a real sex party, and she had no idea how alluring it would be.
“You seem to be enjoying the show,” Olivia said into Alison’s ear.
Alison smiled and nodded. “It’s not like anything I imagined. It’s so elegant, and everyone looks so…” She tried to find the right word.
“How?” Olivia offered.
Alison nodded with a laugh, looking at her old friend carefully for the first time, noticing how much she seemed to have grown into herself. She had always been beautiful, but now her skin was perfect; her short hair and outfit seemed to suit her.
“I have to ask,” said Alison. “What’s with the chauffeur uniform?”
Olivia smiled brightly.
“Byron and I have been through a few different iterations of my uniform, but this is absolutely the one I like the best. In our relationship, I very much like to be his servant.”
“My girl Friday,” he added and held her hand.
She blushed. “Yes, his girl Friday. Part of that is driving him. We found this uniform in a vintage store, and the minute I put on the hat, I knew that’s what his girl would wear.”
Alison didn’t know what to make of that, but seeing her friend so enthusiastically happy was moving. Plus, it was remarkably sexy. There was this immutable connection between them, and it was apparent that Byron was completely in command of Olivia.
Byron sipped his scotch and pointed over to a tall man in an impeccable black tuxedo near the bar.
“Oh, it must be a special night. That’s one of the owners: the mysterious Mr. Lee. He has very specific rules for the place, and those who break the rules are not invited back,” he explained.
Olivia sipped her drink and looked at Alison dreamily. “If you could do one thing you see happening in this room, what would it be?” she asked.
“It’s been years, but I used to date a man who would give me these spankings,” said Alison. “This is all reminding me of how much I liked that, how much I miss it. I don’t know if I could do it in public, though.”
“Well, you never know,” Olivia said and shared a smile with Byron.
Alison wondered if accepting Olivia’s invitation would lead to another kind of invitation with her and Byron. She also wondered what her answer would be if they indeed propositioned her.
After a few more songs, Byron stood up and held out his hand for Olivia. “I think we have some business,” he said.
Olivia looked genuinely frightened. Alison watched as her friend meekly got up and leaned in close to Byron, holding his hand. As Olivia passed Alison, she leaned in and whispered: “Don’t worry, everything that is about to happen is exactly what I want.”
Like two well-respected dancers, as Olivia and Byron walked to the center of the play area, the small crowd parted for them. They didn’t stop at the strange benches or tall daunting crosses, but instead to a padded mat in the center of it all. Byron turned to Olivia, and it looked as though they were going to dance. They kissed, and then he unbuttoned her tunic. Her top was set up so that when unbuttoned, a flap came down and exposed her breasts. Byron left her like that for a bit, circling her and then kissing her neck. His large hands groped her breasts possessively. Something about the way he touched her made Alison’s face flush. Eventually, he stripped her completely naked, taking his time, like a stage magician, showing the eager audience each detail as it was exposed.
Alison felt a strange rush seeing her old friend naked in this room full of people. Alison gazed at Olivia’s small, pert breasts and toned body; the pink of her nipples both pierced with silver bars, and the area between her legs shaved smooth.
What happened next seemed to send a ripple of interest through the room. Byron turned Olivia on her stomach and slapped her ass hard enough to echo through the room. She glared back at him over her shoulder, and he did it again.
She squirmed away, but he pulled her back by her hair. He spanked her harder, and she cried out, “No!”
He held her down by her hair and spanked her again and again, his large hand leaving red marks, the outlines of his fingers visible on her skin.
It went on and on like this. Alison noticed that even the music had stopped, and the band had begun watching. At one point, Olivia got up on her knees and tried to crawl away before she and Byron both descended to the mat like wrestlers.
He kept spanking her over and over, and her shouts and pleading didn’t slow him down one bit. It went on until finally, she collapsed, and her shouts became cries, and Alison could see her tears. Her face was bright red, and her cheeks were wet.
It pulled at Alison’s heart. She wanted to go and comfort her friend, but as she watched, Olivia curled up into a ball in Byron’s arms, and he rocked her. He kissed her forehead and cheeks and lips and whispered to her.
Alison couldn’t hear what they said, but looking around, she saw that people were no longer watching. The buzz of conversation in the room started back up, and the band started playing a livelier number. The intimacy of the scene wasn’t nearly as intense as watching what came before it, but Alison couldn’t look away.
After about ten minutes, Byron and Olivia finally got up and made their way back to the table. Olivia was half-dressed, in her slacks and boots with no top. Though her eyes were still red, she seemed almost maniacally happy.
“Oh my God, I have needed that for weeks,” she said. “We haven’t been out in a while, and we certainly haven’t done anything as intense as that in ages.”
“Oh, well, that’s good to know. I thought maybe that was, like, the norm,” Alison said, being careful to not say anything too judgmental.
“No, just when we both need it and we are both in the right kind of mood. It takes a lot to get me to cry. Tonight, that was exactly what I wanted.”
Alison finished her drink and tried to process all that Olivia had told her. Byron went to get them another round, and Olivia cuddled up to her friend.
They listened to the band and watched more people on the dance floor playing. The whole time, Alison was sort of waiting and wondering if the two of them would make a move on her. She realized that she wanted them to, and she was getting impatient.
“So, if I got a spanking, I wouldn’t want it like that,” she said, trying to sound casual.
Oliva raised an eyebrow and looked over at her old friend. “If you got one? Well, if you got one, what would you want it to be like?”
Alison swallowed, her cheeks reddening. “I don’t know. I guess. A beginner-level spanking.”
“Well, since you are our guest, that spanking would have to come from one of us,” Olivia said, smiling over at her partner. Byron smiled back. “And I’m not much of a top. At least not for spankings,” Olivia said mysteriously.
Alison swallowed again, her eyes wide. “And does he only have one set? Scarry?”
Byron broke out into a fit of loud laughter. “No, I have all kinds of settings. I think I can do ‘beginner.’ We can start slow if you want. If things get too rough, all you have to do is say ‘red,’ and I will stop immediately.”
“And Olivia can be right next to me?”
He laughed again. “I don’t think I could stop her,” he said.
Alison turned to see Olivia biting her bottom lip. “I’ll be right there,” Olivia said, moving closer.
“Before we do, though, can I kiss you? After all these years of crushing on you?” Olivia asked, and Alison was both surprised and flattered.
“Yes, please.”
Then Olivia’s soft lips were on hers, and they both closed their eyes and fell into a moment that was years in the making.
After some more kisses, Olivia and Byron led a dreamy Alison across the room to a well-padded bench. It reminded Alison of the pews at church with the fold-down kneeling benches.
Olivia was still smiling brightly, guiding Alison to the bench. She held her hand as Olivia kneeled on the bottom rest and draped her torso over the top cushion.
“We’re going to keep your clothes on. I’m just going to lift up your dress. You’re going to be great. Just relax,” Olivia said.
Olivia knelt on the floor on the other side of the bench, her face close to Alison’s.
Kneeling on the bench, all Alison could think about was what she had just seen, her old friend squirming and kicking and screaming on the floor. Her body tensed. What was she doing?
She reminded herself of the safeword. So simple: “red,” like a traffic light. She closed her eyes.
Byron settled next to her, standing and leaning over her, his leg touching hers, his hand warm and strong on her back. The first hit was so light she thought he might be kidding; just a little pat on her ass, then a soft slap. It went on like that for a while, soft but slowly building.
He went a little harder as that thought flashed through her mind. The hits were becoming solid, each slap switching from her left cheek to her right. Each strike pushed her forward a little, the connection reverberating inside of her, right between her legs.
It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it was starting to. Other things were starting, as well. Her whole body seemed to be squirming slowly. Her ass started pushing back against his hand.
“Breathe,” came Olivia’s voice in the darkness.
Alison took a deep breath, then another, then Byron’s hand came down again, harder, and again. The pain was there, but it seemed to transform. Another hit and a sound escaped Alison’s lips, a moan, a loud little whine of hunger. Alison was a bit surprised and a little embarrassed.
Olivia let out a little chuckle. “I think she likes it.”
Byron’s dark laugh. “Yes, I can tell from back here,” he said.
Alison suddenly felt the coolness of the air on her wet thighs. Could she really be that wet?
Olivia leaned in and whispered into Alison’s ear. “Are you really so wet he can feel it? Through your panties and down your thighs?” she teased.
Alison felt a swirl of lust and shame. She put her head down for a moment, but it snapped up when Byron gave her three hard smacks. “I think you should answer her,” he said in his strong, calm tone.
“Y-yes,” she said and then let out a little moan, and a slow, steady spanking started up again.
“Who knew my old roommate was such a little pain slut?” Olivia laughed into Alison’s ear.
“I think we’ve warmed her up very nicely; how about five good hits to end things?” Byron asked Olivia.
Olivia kissed Alison once more. “What do you think, five hard hits to cap things off?” she asked.
Alison looked into her friend’s eyes with a little fear.
“If you do, and you are a good girl for him, I can give you a reward,” Olivia whispered into her ear. Her hand moved down Alison’s body and rested on her inner thigh. “So wet and needy, aren’t you?”
Alison nodded, the thought of Olivia’s hands on her rendering her unable to speak.
“So five mean hits, and then I’ll be very nice to you?” Olivia asked.
“Yes,” Alison was able to squeak out.
Later on, Alison would see the blotches of purple on her ass that looked like space nebulas. But in the moment, the thunderous spanks felt almost like five orgasms. Olivia held her through all of them and kissed her after each hit.
Then, Olivia’s hand moved between Alison’s thighs, and the embarrassment of what was going to happen seemed to fall on her. Alison buried her head in her friend’s chest as her fingers moved Alison’s panties to the side and mercifully slipped a finger inside of her.
Alison didn’t really understand how Olivia knew her body so well, but she seemed to know exactly what she needed: fingers inside of her and a thumb rubbing slowly around her clit. The building of the spanking had put her body on edge.
Alison’s mind raced. I can’t come in front of all these people! Was the last thing she thought before she did just that. The flood of pain and pleasure and emotions seemed to burst and left Alison exhausted.
“I think we broke her,” Byron laughed.
“I think I need to go to bed,” Alison answered weakly.
Byron laughed. “I think you should come home with us. We have the car parked down the block, and Olivia is an excellent chauffeur.”
“Yes! Please come home and let us take care of you,” Olivia said, her eyes bright.
Alison looked at both of them and nodded, thankfully.
The rest of the night was a blur, falling asleep in the back of a huge old car and then going up into a warm, dry apartment, where she was put into a big bed. She fell back asleep in Olivia’s arms.
Alison awoke to sunlight, the smell of coffee, and the tight grip of fear. What had she done? Flashes of the night before — a sex club, her old roommate, Byron, Olivia’s fingers — raced through her head. She covered her face in shame.
A tap on her shoulder brought her back. “Regrets?” Olivia said, with a little sadness in her eyes.
“No. I mean, I don’t know. Last night was nothing like I expected. It’s just a lot to process,” Alison said, hoping she wasn’t being cruel.
“Right. Absolutely. That’s what breakfast is for coffee and eggs and processing. We are very good at all those things. Byron says everything will be ready in ten minutes,” Olivia said with a wry smile.
“Byron cooks? I thought you were his slave?” Alison asked, trying carefully to tease.
“Not slave, ‘girl Friday.’ Get it right. And yes, Byron cooks if he wants the food to be edible. He’s a coffee snob and an egg snob. You’ll see.”
Olivia hopped out of bed. She was in a worn black T-shirt and panties. Alison felt pangs of lust as memories flooded her head again.
Alison let her friend pull her out of bed and across the bedroom, into the hall, and then into the kitchen. The table was set for three with a spread of buttered toast and jam, a bowl of fruit, a pile of bacon, and perfect omelets on each plate.
“Goat cheese and caramelized onions. I hope that’s alright,” Byron said, sprinkling fresh herbs on the eggs.
Alison’s eyes bulged. “More than alright,” she said dreamily, sitting down and picking up a strawberry.
“Are you okay?” Byron asked. “That was a lot for your first time at that kind of party.”
He had seemed dangerous the night before, but now, in a brown wool cardigan and jeans, he appeared both caring and warm.
“I think so. I’m just not sure what it means. It’s a pretty wild way to get acquainted with my old roommate,” she said with a chuckle.
Olivia sipped orange juice and smiled.
“It means whatever we want it to mean,” Olivia said, with hope in her eyes. “I think, for me, it means I’m glad to have my old friend back in my life. However, she wants to be in it. I’m just delighted to see you.”
Alison leaned over and kissed her — orange juice and strawberry sweetness.
“But we don’t have to figure out what it all means right now,” Byron added. “We can just enjoy breakfast and enjoy each other and just know that we are going to be open and honest.”
“Yes to openness and honesty; yes to figuring it out. But not right now. And definitely yes to coffee,” she said, complicated feelings welling up inside of her.
Everyone smiled at that. Byron got up to get the coffee.
“And yes to one more kiss?” Olivia whispered.
Alison pulled her by the shirt, and they kissed again. And just like the first time, it was heaven.