The Virginia Chronicles

by Kayt Miller

  “Uh, huh,” he says placing his giant hand on my shoulder. With his other hand, he moves a strand of hair away from my face and pushes it behind my year. My body is tingling from his touch.

  “I just saw you shiver.”

  Stepping closer to me I whisper, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to kiss you?”

  “It’s not appropriate.”

  “Appropriate? But, it’s for your research.”

  He slides the hand that was on my shoulder to the back of my neck. Leaning down, he breathes in. “Your hair smells nice.”

  “Thank you. I use baby shampoo.”

  “I like it.”

  “Your breath smells good.”

  “Thank you. I brush regularly.”

  He chuckles. Running a finger along my lower lip, he whispers, “Your lips are soft.”

  “Thank you. I use petroleum jelly.”

  “It does a nice job.”

  “I know. Uh, so who makes the first move here?”

  “I do. I always make the first move.”

  I suck my lower lip into my mouth and bite down a few times.

  “I’m also the only one that gets to bite down on that fucking bee-stung lip of yours.”

  I whimper at his words. Leaning down, he runs his lips across mine, barely touching mine. It was like a breath. “I like to play with the lips, get a taste at first.”

  I feel him bring his body closer until we’re against each other. The hand that he used to touch my lip is now around my back pressing me into him. “I’m going to kiss you now, Virginia.”

  “Okay,” I squeak.

  The kiss starts off slowly with him playing like he said he likes to do. Gradually, I feel more pressure and then his tongue as it sweeps across my upper lip. “Open for me, Virginia,” he says in a husky voice.

  I open my mouth slightly and feel his tongue as it enters my mouth. I moan the second his tongue touches mine. A chill runs through my body making my nipples rock hard. I bring the arms that were straight down at my side up and up until they’re around his neck. I have to get up on my tiptoes to manage it.

  I open my mouth further and turn my head to the side to get deeper. When he moans I nearly combust. Holy hell. I’ve never been kissed like this, ever. No wonder I’m a virgin. No one has made me feel this much need before. I need sex. I need him, I need his body to do things to mine.

  When his big hand moves down to cup my ass, I think I’m going orgasm. Not really, but I’m damn close. With one arm, he’s got me lifted up and against the wall of the study room. I wrap my legs around his waist in time to feel him press his rock hard length into me. Oh, hells bells, this is amazing.

  When we hear a loud knocking, we pull apart abruptly. Looking at the window that opens up to the main hallway, we see several guys laughing and slapping hands on the window. The guy in front yells through the glass, “Get a fucking room, Bake.”

  “Fuck,” he grumbles letting me down easy. He’s still got his body pressed against mine as he runs his hands over his face back and forth. “Sorry about that. Got carried away.”

  Attempting to calm myself, I only nod. I slide between the wall and Baker until I’m free. Sitting back down at the table, I clear my throat and pick up the papers. “Shall we continue?”

  “Uh, sure.” Baker sits down leaning back in his chair.

  I work quickly after that kiss. “So, you masturbate daily?” Hell and damnation, why did I start there?

  “Yeah. But, it’ll be more now,” he murmurs.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Your favorite position,” is obviously against the wall. “Is ‘Cowgirl?’”

  “I like them all. But, I like to watch a woman’s body move above me.”

  I don’t even want him to expand on that one. I’m still pretty frazzled from the kiss. I just need this to be over with so he will leave. “You don’t like stereotypes?”

  “No.”

  “You like dirty talk but only if you’re the one doing it?”

  “Yes. Want to hear some?”

  “Uh, sure?”

  He leans up until his face is only inches from mine. “You kiss like a fucking porn star, Virginia. I don’t remember my cock ever being this hard before. It’s still rock hard even after we’ve stopped. There’s nothing I want more than to sink…”

  “Okay, I get it. You’re good at the dirty talk.”

  He chuckles leaning back in his chair. “When inspired I am.”

  Does that mean he’s inspired? “Well, I think that’s all we have time for today. My next interview will be here any minute.”

  “I thought this was supposed to last an hour?”

  “Twenty minutes, an hour. Whatever it takes.”

  “You didn’t ask me anything on the second sheet.” He says crossing his giant arms across his chest.

  “We covered most of it.”

  Releasing a big sigh, Baker Stark stands up to his full height. As he turns to leave he stops and says, “I’ll be seeing you, Virginia.”

  I blink at him and blink some more. No, he won’t be seeing me. “Bye,” I say quickly. “Have a nice day.” What? Have a nice day? I’m such a dork.

  “Oh, I will. You too.”

  He moves out of the doorway pulling the door closed as he goes. When he passes the window, he turns back and winks. Holy crap! What just happened?

  I do my best to calm myself after Baker walks out. I’ve got about thirty minutes until the next participant shows up. My first instinct is to call Peach but what would I say? ‘Oh, hey. I just made out with a stranger in the library study room. No biggy.’ But, it was a biggy. Sure, I’ve kissed guys before. Not a lot of guys but enough to know that that kiss was different––special. I think I get why people are crazy about sex now. Not that we had sex, but I wanted to have sex––badly. I could have just dropped my drawers right then and there. “God, when did I turn into that girl?”

  The remaining Saturday interviews go without incident. Neither person tries to kiss me. Granted, one was a woman, and the other was a man who liked men. I was just relieved they didn’t try anything. My body couldn't take another kiss like that.

  Chapter 10

  Virginia

  On Sunday, I oversleep. Probably because I tossed and turned thinking about kissing giant men, one giant man in particular, in the middle of the library while people jeered and laughed. When I finally fell asleep, it was already five in the morning. Scrambling out of bed, I grab some sweats and a semi-clean t-shirt, my backpack, and a bottle of water.

  I get to the library late. My only appointment is leaning against the doorjamb doing something on this phone. He’s gorgeous. I don’t remember him the day of the surveys and believe me; I’d have remembered him. He has dark hair, and when he peers up at me, I see eyes so blue they remind me of the Caribbean. “Hey,” I say nonchalantly.

  Chuckling, my future husband says. “Nice hair. Did you oversleep?”

  Ugh! I forgot to brush my hair and my teeth. I shut my mouth and run my fingers through the rat’s nest that is my bedhead. “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

  I step into the room in front of him since he's holding the door for me. Such a gentleman. “Have a seat.” I hold my hand out to shake, “My name is Virginia. Thanks for coming.”

  He takes my hand in his, and he kisses the top of it, “The pleasure’s all mine. I’m Copeland, but my friends call me Cope.”

  “Cope. That’s cool,” I said gazing at him. He’s so damn handsome. He’s got a scruff of a beard growing on his chin, but it doesn’t detract from his pretty lips. He’s got high cheekbones that I’d love to lick. Huh? What? Lick? God, my mind’s in the gutter lately.

  “So, shall we get started, Cope?” I say smiling so big it hurts.

  “Absolutely.”

  “So, it says you’ve never been in a long-term relationship?”

  “Well, I had a girlfriend in high school but do those relationships even coun
t?”

  Hm, I bet the girl from high school thinks it counted. I mean, look at him. I giggle. “I guess not.”

  “Since then I’ve just been focusing on school. It's not that I don’t want to find a nice girl and settle down, I just haven't found her yet,” he says with a pout.

  “I get that.”

  “Besides, I work hard for my grades. I’m the president of my fraternity, Beta Theta Pi, and I have goals.”

  “What kind of goals.”

  “Politics. My dad’s a U.S. Representative, so I’m expected to follow in his footsteps.”

  “I see you’re major is Political Science.”

  “Uh huh. Then law school.”

  He’s so determined and ambitious. That’s such an amazing trait for someone his age. The more I read through his list, the more I just know he’s the one. I scan the section on the questionnaire about whether he’d sleep with a virgin and he said ‘yes.' I don’t ask him about that, but I do talk to him about the fact that he’s chosen “Other” for the questions that relate to What Attracts You? “You don’t have a preference when it comes to hair color, hair style, or body type?”

  “Nah. I don’t care about someone's appearance. It’s what’s in here that counts,” he says patting his chest right above his heart. “When I find the one, I know it’s just going to hit me. I can’t have a predetermined notion what she’s going to look like.”

  “But, if you could choose the hair color, what would you choose?”

  “Well, I guess blondes are okay.”

  “Long hair or short hair?”

  “I guess long. I like it when girls put their hair up in that messy thing on the top of their heads, and they wear nerdy glasses. I like intelligent women, so that reminds me of that.”

  But, anyone can wear those nerdy glasses. “Okay, you ranked the features of the female body in this order: smile, face, eyes, mouth/teeth, hands, arms, legs, feet, ass/behind, and breasts. Is that correct?”

  “Well, maybe eyes would be first. You can tell a lot by a person’s eyes. Don’t you think? They’re the windows to the soul after all.”

  “True.” That seems a bit off. You’d think breasts or ass would be further up. Maybe he is looking for his soul mate.

  “You also ranked the personality traits you like the most as faithful and kind.”

  “They’re the most important.”

  “What about ‘good in bed’?”

  “That’s something we can work on together after we’re married.”

  “You want to wait for marriage, to uh, consummate your relationship?”

  “If possible. When I meet the one, I want to wait.”

  This guy is too good to be true. He’s gorgeous, smart, ambitious and such a gentleman. I want him! “Your favorite stereotypical woman was the ‘girl next door,' then the ‘marrying kind,' and third was ‘you don’t like stereotypes.’”

  “I don’t like them, no. But the two I listed first and second are okay. They must be sweet girls you could marry and that my mom would be proud to call a daughter.”

  I nod, “Masturbating? You said ‘no.'”

  “Well, I have done it before. I just try not to. It’s wrong.”

  It’s natural, but okay. “You also don’t like dirty talk?”

  “No! That’s disgusting,” he says adamantly.

  “Missionary is your favorite position?”

  I watch him blush. Oh my goodness, this guy is adorable. “The time I had sex, yes. It was missionary.”

  “Do you ever want to try anything else?”

  “Oh, you’re embarrassing me, Virginia.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  Sighing, he admits, “I’d like to try other things but with the right girl.”

  “Sounds good.” I’m not sure what else to ask him. I don’t think he’s going to give me much more. “Well, I think that’s all I need for today. Thank you so much, Copeland. I’ve enjoyed talking to you.”

  “Same here, Virginia. Good luck with your paper.”

  “Thanks.” He stands and walks out the door and as he moves, I can’t help noticing how firm and round his ass is. “Stop it, Virginia,” I hiss to myself. I’m such a damn pervert. One good thing that came out of today was I found my third and final possible de-flowerer and this one is the best of the bunch, my dream man––Mr. Political Science.

  Chapter 11

  Virginia

  “Okay, so you’ve got three finalists?”

  “Yep. Mr. Free-spirit, Mr. Punk-rocker, and Mr. Political Science.”

  “No names? I don’t get any names?”

  “It’s best if you don’t know the names yet. If I crash and burn, I’d prefer you didn’t have names.”

  “That sucks. I’m your best friend. I…”

  “I know. Just let me do it this way for now.” Changing the subject, I add, “So, are you going to the salon with me when I get my extensions?”

  “Your dad sent you money?”

  “Yeah. He sent money.” He sent a lot of money. When I called him, he was excited to hear from me. I rarely take the initiative with him. If we talk, it’s because he’s called me. This time, he asked me a lot of questions about school, my future plans––stuff like that.

  When I told him about my research and that I needed a little money for said research he shocked me. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask for your money.”

  “My money?” What money?

  “I’ve been putting the money that your mom refused to take, in an account for you all these years.”

  Refused to take money? She told me he was practically a deadbeat dad. “You have?”

  “Obviously, your mother didn’t tell you. She told me not to tell you, or she wouldn’t let me see you again.”

  “What?” I squeak. “Why?”

  Dad blew out some air. I could hear the deep sigh, “She was angry with me.”

  “I know. But, that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I used to put money in my letters to you, but she told me to stop.”

  “Letters? What letters?” I feel moisture hit my cheek and realize I’m crying. “I didn’t get any l-letters, dad.”

  “I wrote to you every week at first. When you didn’t reply, I only wrote every month.”

  I released a loud sob, “Dad. I didn’t get any letters.”

  “Fuck! She told me she gave them to you, but that you didn’t care.”

  I’m crying so hard I can’t get any words out.

  “Oh, baby. I’m sorry. I thought…”

  “N-n-no. She didn’t give them to me.” I can’t believe my mom did that to me––to him. My dad. I’d cry myself to sleep when he’d forget to call me or when he never, not once, invited me to Illinois for the summer or even for a visit. It broke my heart that one minute I was his ‘little peanut’ and the next I was nothing. Mom would hug me and tell me I had her and that’s all I needed. Well, she was wrong.

  “I’m sorry, dad.” So many years lost.

  “I am too, peanut. But, now that we know, can we start over? God, I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart.”

  The bawling starts all over again, “I’ve m-missed you too.” I can’t seem to stop crying.

  Once I’ve calmed down, dad asks me for my bank account information. “Is this just your account?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No one else is listed on it?”

  “No.” He wants to find out if mom can access that account. “She can’t access it.”

  “Good. I’ll have your money transferred over today. So, watch your account in the next day or two and let me know when it’s safely deposited in there. Okay?”

  “Okay, dad.”

  “I’d like to come visit you. Homecoming weekend is in two weeks. Can I come?”

  He knows when my homecoming is? “I’d love that, dad.”

  “Me too.” He sniffles on the other end of the phone. “Thank you for calling me, peanut. I feel happier then I have in years.”
<
br />   “Me too, dad.” Me too.

  As soon as I hang up, I send a text to mom.

  Me: Mom, did you keep the letters daddy sent to me? If so, I want them all. All of them, mom.

  I hope she kept them. I decide to send a second text.

  Me: Please don’t call back. I can’t talk to you right now. Just mail me the letters.

  The next day, I log into my bank account and nearly choke on my granola bar. “Holy shit!” My dad has deposited $151,000.00 into my bank account. I quickly pick up my phone and hit his number. When he answers, I don’t give him a chance to speak, “Dad! That’s too much money! I can’t take all of that from you.”

  “It’s your money, Virginia. It amounts to one thousand dollars a month for the last ten years. Plus there’s money in there for school. Your mom refused to let me help you with college, so I put the money aside for the day you needed it. I figured I’d give it all to you as your graduation present to help get you set up.”

  “But, you need that money. I can’t take all of that.”

  “It’s not my money. It’s your money. I do well at my job; I’ve always had it taken directly out of my check and deposited into that account.”

  “But… I feel like I’m stealing your money, dad.”

  “It’s always been your money. If I had st…, uh, stayed, I would have spent way more than that on you,” dad chuckles. “So, take it. It would make me the happiest dad in the world if you’d take it and use it the way you need to use it.”

  “Okay. I will. Thank you, dad. So, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks?”

  “Try and stop me. I’ve already packed my bag,” he says chuckling.

  “Love you, daddy.”

  “Love you more, peanut. Talk to you soon?”

  “Yeah. I’ll call you in a day or two.”

  “Perfect.”

  I’m so happy my dad and I are talking, but my heart hurts. Mom betrayed me. I may never be able to forgive her for this.

  Chapter 12

  Virginia

  Two hours and one sore noggin later, I’ve got new hair. I run my fingers through the strands and gaze at my reflection in a Main Street store window as we pass.