Diving In

By

Bianca Giovanni

Published by Bianca Giovanni at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Bianca Giovanni

Discover other works by Bianca Giovanni at
Smashwords.com

First
Dance

Free introductory short story in the Vice &
Virtue series

Exposed

The second short story in the Vice & Virtue
series

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This ebook contains sexual content and is not
intended for readers under 18. All events and characters are
fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is completely
coincidental.

A Message From The Author

Chapter 1 - Lola

Chapter 2 - James

Chapter 3 - Lola

Chapter 4 - James

Chapter 5 - Lola

Vice, Virtue & Video Free Sample

Thank you to everyone who downloaded my first
two shorts,
First
Dance
and
Exposed
!
I have truly appreciated all your comments and reviews,
particularly those posted by the great community of authors and
avid readers at Smashwords. I am currently putting the finishing
touches on Vice, Virtue & Video, the first full-length novel in
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Thanks again to all my readers!

It’s funny how everything seems to move in
slow-mo when you’re in a hurry. As I stand here waiting to get off
the plane at LAX, everything and everyone around me is annoying the
crap out of me because they seem to be taking their sweet time.
Take the guy un-wedging his bag from the overhead compartment right
now, for example. He smushed it in there so hard that I’m not
surprised he’s grunting and yanking at it to try to free it. They
really should have made him check it, then he’d be hurrying to get
to baggage claim just like I am.

I planned this trip to California to visit my
best friend, James, who lives out here. James and I grew up
together—we’ve been best buds since I was six and he was nine—and
I’m so anxious to see him that I wish the man with the bag and the
mom with her two little kids would get a move on. James is waiting
for me at baggage claim right now and I wish I could harness the
power of teleportation so I could jump into his arms and give him a
huge hug.

It’s not like it’s been ages since I’ve seen
him, but still, I missed him terribly. He visited me in our
hometown a few months ago, right before I graduated high school and
departed out east for college. During that visit, he saved me from
a boring-ass prom by picking me up a la Jake Ryan and taking me on
this really sweet, slightly romantic picnic up in the mountains
that overlooked our neighborhood. That night, he slept over at my
house on the sneak and we cuddled in my bed all night. It was so
tender and romantic, but we stayed within the limits of
friendship.

Poor James, the next day, his parents found
out that he’d been earning his living by staring in porn flicks and
they basically disowned him. He came to my house crying and my mom
and I gladly took him in. He slept over again that night and, while
I was trying to console him, he got intimate with me and started
kissing my neck and trying to feel me up. I don’t know what
happened but it was like it triggered something in me. My
relationship with him has never really taken on a sexual
aspect—he’s slept with practically every girl in our hometown, but
he never really tried that shit on me. After that, though, I
couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with him and
if the legends of his sexual prowess were true.

Finally this dumbass gets his bag down and
the flow of traffic off the plane can continue. The flight
attendant greets everyone with “buh-bye” and I nearly run down the
jetway to get to baggage claim. I’m clipping along in my
espadrilles, which were too cold to wear back in school but are
perfect for Southern California, and I hike my messenger bag with
my MacBook up on my shoulder.
Move it, people! My best friend’s
waiting!

Finally, I get to baggage claim and I spot
him immediately. He’s not hard to pick out in a crowd. He’s 6’5”
and a towering hulk of muscle. James has always had an athletic
body, but he’s been working out a lot more this past year and you
can see a hint of his chiseled pecks peeking out from the v-neck of
his t-shirt. He runs his fingers through his shoulder-length,
chocolate brown hair and scans the space, searching for me. A huge,
perfect, bright white smile spreads across his face the second his
eyes meet mine and he runs over and throws his arms around me,
scooping me up and twirling me around while he kisses my cheek over
and over.

“I missed you so much, kid!” he grins as he
puts me down.

“Same,” I smile. “I was, like, ready to kill
people if they didn’t get the fuck out of my way so I could race
down here to get to you.”

“That would have been a funny news story,” he
laughs. “KTLA reporting live from the scene where a tiny ninja girl
has just murdered six people because she wanted to hurry to see her
best friend.”

“That’s basically what it would have been,” I
chuckle.

“Come on,” he says, patting my butt, “let’s
get your shit and you can see my apartment.”

As we wait at the carousel for my bag, he
puts his arm around me, resting his big, strong hand on my hip.
James is over a foot taller than me and I always feel so small when
I’m up against him like this. I like it, though. It’s very symbolic
of our relationship. He’s always been this big, tough dude who
could move within any social circle at school because all the girls
wanted to fuck him—goths, band geeks, cheerleaders, it didn’t
matter, his hotness knew no bounds. I, on the other hand, was your
classic brainy nerd. I was the kid who did the extra credit and who
was embarrassed for anyone to see that I got 107 percent on the
test when other people were averaging Bs and Cs. For most of my
life, I was scrawny and gangly, not stacked like I am now, and
every guy but James essentially ignored me. After I got boobs, it
was like I turned on the “open for business” sign and I caught the
eye of several vaguely uncouth individuals who were very interested
in getting in my pants. James, of course, went into psycho
protector mode and intimidated any dude who tried to touch me until
most of them were scared to lay a finger on me because they knew
they’d face his wrath. This is probably why I’m a freshman in
college and I’ve never had sex. I’ve never really gone past second
base and the only time I did was after James had graduated and
wasn’t around to scare the boys away anymore.

“It’s that one, the red one,” I say, pointing
to my bag as it slides down the chute.

He grabs it one-handed and pops out the
handle, rolling it along as we walk out to his car. He’s parked
right outside and I don’t know how he got away with that. They’re
normally so anal about letting unattended vehicles park within so
many yards of an airport. I soon realize that the guard at this
section of the curb is a woman and she eyes James like he’s filet
mignon. This dude has lived in a hotness bubble his whole life and
he can get away with murder as long as a woman is involved. He’s
such a charmer and a flash of his smile opens doors that would be
closed to us mortal human beings. The guy’s a fucking sex superhero
sometimes and he can turn on a look that I call the James Laird Sex
Laser Beam, which is basically a concentrated gaze of sexual energy
that seems to immobilize the rational mind of nearly everyone girl
he sees.

We hop in his beat-up old Honda Civic, the
same one he’s had since he was 16, and we’re on our way to his
apartment. I like seeing palm trees and sunlight. It’s a nice
change of pace from the Founding Fathers, colonial, stuffy
educational institution I’ve recently moved into.

We arrive at his apartment complex, which
looks like it was built in the late ‘70s or early ‘80s. It’s three
stories with outdoor staircases and hallways. The doors are all
painted turquoise and the railings are all a Pepto-Bismol pink—very
‘80s colors. I know these places aren’t particularly expensive,
since James knows how to be thrifty, but they’re not bad. Even
cheap apartments out here are probably twice what they would cost
in our hometown and, even though he’s making pretty good money now,
I’m glad he didn’t try to splurge on some extravagant place. He’s
smart like that, knowing that he should save up for the day when he
can no longer fuck for a living.

We get to his door and he unlocks it and
ushers me inside. His place is surprisingly roomy and, aside from
the low ceilings, it doesn’t look all that dated inside. The floor
plan is pretty open with the living room to the right and the
kitchen straight ahead. There’s a breakfast bar looking over a
small table by the window. On the other side of the room is a small
area with a desk and his MacBook Pro closed beside a stack of
photos of busty girls—probably pics of his costars. The bedroom is
down the hall and the bathroom is next to that. I recognize a
painting his mom did several years ago hanging on the wall between
the kitchen and the bedroom and it makes me feel a little sad.
James and his mom were always so close and I know it damn near
killed him to see how disappointed she was when she found out about
the porn stuff. It’s sweet that he still has this memento of her in
his place, even though it’s probably a hurtful reminder of the
happy family life he once had.

“You hungry?” he smiles as he puts my bag
down in his bedroom.

“Yeah,” I nod. “I had a bagel this morning
but I was too psyched to eat lunch.”

That makes him grin proudly and he comes over
to give me a hug. I can tell that he missed me from the way he
completely envelops me, blanketing me with his adoration. It makes
me feel warm inside to know that he cares about me so much because
I cherish his friendship and the deep bond that we have.

“There’s a sushi place I want to take you to.
It’s one of those trendy places that the cool people go to, which
is dumb, but they have really good unagi, so you’ll like it,” he
offers.

“Sweet,” I nod. “Can I change into something
more trendy and fashionable, you know, since I’m gonna hang with
the cool kids and all?”

“Sure,” he chuckles, “but you look beautiful
already.”

It makes me smile whenever he compliments me,
though he does it all the time and sometimes I think he’s just
being nice.

I go into the bedroom and put on a cute,
casual, sleeveless dress. It’s got a green, floral pattern that
distracts from my enormous boobs and makes my body look less
top-heavy. I run a brush through my long hair and dab on a little
lip gloss and I think I look decent enough to hang with the
in-crowd.

“Gorgeous,” James says when I emerge. “When
did you get this?”

“I bought it right before I moved because it
was hot and muggy, but then it got cold and I only got the chance
to wear it once,” I reply.

“See, think about what it’d be like if you
lived out here,” he grins. “You could wear sexy stuff like this all
the time.”

“Wouldn’t that give you heart palpitations?”
I snicker. “You’re already paranoid enough as it is about guys
checking me out. I’m sure you’d be a nervous wreck if I walked
around showing skin.”

“Yeah, but
I’d
get to look at all your
skin,” he says flirtatiously. “And I’d just stare down anybody else
who tried to do it.”

I roll my eyes with a laugh and reach for my
purse.

We get to the sushi place and he’s right, it
is trendy. Everybody in here looks like they’re an actor or a model
and I feel a little self-conscious. All their looks are very put
together, but in that “I just threw these clothes on because I
don’t care” kind of way. Very calculated, but trying to look like
it’s totally effortless.