The Virginia Chronicles Read online

  Warning…

  This is a stand-alone story with an HEA.

  Beware! This book has coarse language and sexual content. Intended for readers 18+ and for those who want to read something a little naughty.

  If you're not into that, you should probably skip this one.

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used facetiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Kayt Miller

  Cover image standard license from Adobe Stock.com

  Cover Copyright © 2017 Kayt Miller

  All rights reserved.

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author @ [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Dedication

  I’m dedicating this book to my eighty-two year old mom who, after Beta reading my book said, “You know? I think you need one more sex scene.” God, I love that woman!

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Warning

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue: Baker

  Appendix A: Survey

  Also by Kayt Miller

  Prologue

  Virginia

  “You’re a what?!” shouts Dave.

  “Um, I’m a virgin,” I say softly. Now that I think about it, I probably should have warned him about this before we were both naked and panting––well sort of panting––in my bed.

  “A virgin? Aren’t you like twenty-one?”

  “So?”

  “That thing should have been popped a long time ago. What’s wrong with you?” he says pointing angrily at my lady parts.

  “Nothing,” I sputter. “Nothing’s wrong with me.” God, what an asshole. To be honest, I’d seen a little bit of this asshole side of Dave since we’d started dating a few weeks ago.

  “Well, Virgin-ia,” he says emphasizing the first part of my name like; you guessed it, an asshole. “You’re telling me you want me to take your cherry? Fuck!” he shouts as he paces my tiny dorm room buck-naked. “Nuh, uh. No way. If I do, this will all snowball out of control. First, you’ll fall in love with me and when I reject your love, and I will reject your love, you’ll become a stage-five clinger, and I just don’t have time for that. I’m graduating soon. I plan to move out east.” He pauses and runs his fingers through his receding hairline. “You and I were never going to be long-term, Virginia.”

  I know that. In my heart I know, but I wasn’t going into this thinking there was an expiration date. So I ask the obvious question not wanting an answer, but I’m a masochist that way, “Why not?”

  “Because, Virginia,” he sighs, “Look at you.” He nods in my direction.

  I peer down at my plump body then back up at him. I know I’m not the best looking girl on campus, but I’ve got decent boobs and butt. Sure, I’d like to scrape off a few inches from my stomach and thighs but who wouldn’t?

  “Virginia, you’re… you’re okay looking. I just have a picture in my mind what my life partner…”

  “Life partner?”

  “Life partner. Mate. Whatever. I have a picture in my head what my mate is going to look like, and you’re not it, Virginia.”

  “I’m not it?” I ask sort of numbly. “Uh, so what does your mate look like?”

  “Well, she’s blonde. Definitely blonde. And slim,” he says looking at the bulge around my middle.

  I pull the white sheet up over my hips and keep tugging until I’m covered up to my neck. Dave doesn't get to look anymore. I want to interrupt, but I don’t.

  “She’s five feet seven inches tall, large breasts, long legs, and…”

  I snort out a laugh. “Good luck with all of that, Dave,” now it’s my turn to be snarky. Dave’s nothing special. He’s average. Average height, brown hair, brown eyes, dad-bod, he’s a computer nerd, and he’s broke. “You want a trophy wife?”

  “So?” he says bending down to grab his tighty whities. Another mark against Dave. No one his age should ever wear those things.

  Next, he searches the floor for his athletic shorts and shirt. After pulling those on he slips on his flip-flops and begins to walk to my door. He turns to me. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it, Virginia. I’m done. We’re done. Good luck with your cherry popping and all that but it isn't gonna be me that does it. Find some unsuspecting one-night stand and just get it over with. But, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell him you’re a virgin. Christ!” he mutters, walking out of my bedroom.

  I sit on my bed clutching my sheet blinking at the open door. Did that just happen? Did my boyfriend dump me because I’m a virgin? Or was it because I wasn’t packaged correctly? “God! What an asshole!”

  Chapter 1

  Virginia

  “Why does it feel like something’s wrong with me, Peach?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, Virginia. There’s something wrong with society. Well, maybe not society but the people our age, millennials. There’s just this expectation that everyone will graduate from high school de-virginized.”

  “De-virginized? That’s a terrible word.”

  Penny “Peach” Marks giggles. “I made it up.”

  “No! I had no idea,” I deadpan. Now it’s my turn to giggle. Penny Marks is a dork and my best friend in the entire world. She’s the Yin to my Yang, the bread to my butter, and my well; you get the idea. Without her, there would have been many times I would have climbed to the highest mountain peak, and stayed there.

  “So, tell me, again, exactly what he said.”

  I groan out loud because reliving the words that he-who-shall-not-be-named (Dave) said hurts. It’s excruciating. I take a deep breath and repeat the words of my ex not-so-long-term boyfriend, Dave. “He said, ‘You’re a virgin?’ Like I had leprosy or something.”

  “Please continue.” Peach motions her hand in a rolling gesture, encouraging me to con
tinue. She’s enjoying this way too much.

  I glare at my best friend. “I’ve told you this story twice. Why do you make me repeat it? It’s painful.”

  “Come on, Virginia, just one more time.”

  I breathe in again and start over, ‘You’re a virgin? Jesus, Virginia. You want me to take your, um, cherry?’ I slap my hands onto my lap and push myself to my knees on the way to standing, “And then, blah, blah, blah. You know the rest.”

  I believe the next part was, ‘He shouted and started pacing the room. Buck-naked.’

  “If you know this by heart, why…?”

  “Please?” she says so sugar-sweetly I growl.

  “Fine! He said, ‘If I do, this will all snowball out of control. First, you’ll fall in love with me and when I reject your love, and I will reject your love, you’ll become a stage-five clinger, and I just don’t have time for that. I’m graduating soon. I plan to move out east. I don’t have time for a clinger.’” I let out a whoosh of air after I repeated that part at double time. How pathetic is it that I remember every word? Yeah. Pretty frigging pathetic.

  Once I stop talking, I peer over at Peach. She’s blinking slowly and staring with her mouth agape. “No matter how many times you tell me that story, it still shocks me. You two dated for what, a month?”

  “Almost. Three weeks.”

  “And you’d done stuff together? Fooled around?”

  “Yes. We did stuff. Just not…it. You know, in retrospect, I should have just kept my damn mouth shut. Would he have even noticed?”

  “Possibly but you don’t want it to be like that do you, Virginia? You were with him long enough to expect some compassion. Some understanding. You’re only twenty-one for Christ’s sake. It’s not like you’re old, like thirty.”

  I laugh, “Thirty isn’t old, you dork.”

  “Seems old.” She shrugs. “Well, screw Dave. Not literally, of course. But who needs him anyway? He was ghostly pale and no fun. The guy never wanted to go outside. He just wanted to sit in front of his computer and program shit. Oh, and play video games. Jeez, girl, how did you end up with a basement dweller?”

  “He wasn’t a basement dweller.” She looks at me with the look that says, Yes, he was. “Yeah, okay, so he didn’t like the outdoors. But, he had some good qualities.”

  “Yeah? Name three.”

  “Three?”

  “Yep. Three.”

  “Okay, he was nice.”

  “That’s one, barely.”

  “Two. He was tidy.”

  Peach looks at me with a death glare.

  “Okay. Two. He was a good kisser.” Sort of. Not really. They were a little slobbery.“And three, he, um, he…”

  “Can’t do it, can you? I’m not even sure I should count number one. Most people are nice.”

  “Yeah, okay. He was a shit boyfriend. I’m glad he ran out of my room like The Flash when he found out I was a maiden.”

  Peach spits out the iced tea she’d just sipped. “Maiden? Jesus, Virginia. You read too many Jane Austen books. Maiden?” she giggles.

  “I’ve had a lot of time to ponder all of the synonyms related to virginity. Let’s see; there’s chaste, virtuous, untouched, maiden, immaculate, sinless, and pure.”

  “Jesus,” she mutters.

  “So, now what do I do? I don’t want to graduate from college in ten months still a virgin. I can’t go on to grad school or into the workforce with this thing hanging over my head. I’m starting to get a little obsessed.”

  I watch as Peach lies down on our ratty old sofa. She places her hand over her face as she sighs. I know this means that she’s thinking. She calls it meditating. She claims that most of her best art ideas come when she’s ‘meditating.'

  Peach is an art major here at Iowa State. She wants to be a free-lance artist when she’s finished but, according to her, that is not a viable option if she intends to have money to live. So, she’s in the Graphic Design program. Peach may be flighty, and a little crazy (a lot crazy), but the girl thinks things through. “So, the problem is, you need to lose that damn V-card by the end of May, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You know, it’s too bad you couldn’t advertise.”

  Now it’s my turn to spit out my tea. “Are you nuts?”

  “No, hear me out. We both know that hooking up with some random from the bar is out. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “You want to be able to vet the person who takes your, um, maidenhood?”

  “Now who’s reading Austen?” I smirk. I loves me a good Jane Austen story just as much as the rest of us.

  “Shush and let me finish my train of thought here. Okay. You don’t want a random to do it. You know it's a shame you couldn’t do a survey to find the perfect guy to do The Deed. Ooh, I know. It could be a dating app or something. You could look for specific things like for a guy who is willing to pop a nice girls cherry.”

  “Okay, First… Ooh, Gross. Second…” I pause thinking about her idea. Well not her idea, her idea is skanky. But, there’s something there. “You may be on to something. I haven’t decided on my Senior Thesis Project. I keep going back and forth between ‘American teens and their devices…”

  “Yawn.”

  I laugh out loud at my best friend. “Or,” I say loudly, “Advertising and its impact on female self-esteem.”

  “Well, those are both topics, that’s for sure, but are they good topics? Besides, I think those are played out,” she says holding her arm out like she’s holding a sword. “You’re a sociology major, right?”

  I blink at her. Is she actually asking me about my major? “Duh.”

  “Okay, well, I think you should do a study on virginity.”

  Now, it’s my turn to lay my head back and think. I don’t need to ‘meditate,’ but it does help to work things through when my eyes are closed “One idea could be something about virginity in our generation––the stigma attached to those who aren’t ‘deflowered’ by the time you go to college.”

  “Mmm hmm,” she contemplates.

  “Or, it could be broader. Like ‘What do men want when it comes to a mate?’”

  “Don’t forget about Dave’s fucked up notion that guys––and girls––already have their mate pictured before they even meet them. The expectation is already ingrained in their head.”

  “Mmm hmm,” she pauses.

  “Or, it could include that. ‘Mate’ has two meanings. And more generally, what men want when it comes to mat-ing. You know…s-e-x.”

  “God, please, let’s stop saying ‘mate.’ What are we, wolf-shifters?” Peach says rolling her eyes.

  I blink at her because I have no idea what she means. “Wolf-shifters?”

  “Never mind, continue,” she mutters.

  “No, I like the first idea, but I need to expand it. I mean, think about this generationally. When my grandmother was my age, girls were expected to look and behave a certain way. Plus, the stigma of not being a virgin on your wedding night was way worse than my problem today.”

  “Makes sense why everybody got married so young, then. What was she, seventeen?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “I rest my case. Can you imagine marrying some douche from high school when you were eighteen?” she pretends a shiver.

  I chuckle. “No. Definitely not. Times have changed, obviously. But, even when my mom was my age, it was still taboo to lose the V-card too early. Girls were labeled sluts if they slept around.”

  “Well, that’s still true. Guys are never called sluts.”

  “Um, I beg to differ. ‘Fuck boy’ is a contemporary, albeit derogatory, term for a guy who sleeps around.” See? I know my stuff. I read… things.

  “Yeah. But, still. It’s worse for girls. Guys are still patted on the back when they sleep with a bunch of people,” she nods thinking she spoke a truth. Halleluiah.

  “It’s getting better though. We can thank the 60s sexual revolution for some of that plus the widely acce
pted knowledge that women need sex just as much as men do.”

  “Ha! What do you know about needs? You’re a v-i-r-g-i-n.”

  “Shut it, Peach. Why do you think we’re having this conversation? I’ve got needs!”

  Peach rolls over in a fit of giggles. “So noted. Now, let’s figure this out.”

  Right. I lay my head back down to think about this idea of merging my Sociology Senior Thesis project with my own, um, problem. “I think I’ve got two topics going. One is all about the negative aspects of virginity. The other part deals with people’s expectations about partners and sex.”

  “Let’s not forget about all of those apps out there now like Tinder and Ashley Madison.”

  “You don't have to remind me. Those are all about hook-ups and cheating on your significant other if they’re using Ashley Madison,” I add.

  “Yeah, but it’s our reality now, Virginia. Guys, and women, don’t need to put any real effort into getting sex. Just open your app and see if there’s a willing partner in a two-mile radius. What happened to effort––to the chase?” Peach sighs, “I miss the chase. I miss the times a guy has made an effort to get to know me. And dates? What are those? When was the last time you went on an actual date?”

  “Never.” It’s true. I’ve never been on an actual date. We just meet up places with the guy. I wouldn’t even count Prom since I went with my girlfriends. “It’s like you’re asking to turn back time, Peaches. Those days are long gone.”

  She gives me a pouty face. “Maybe they’ll come back. Everything comes back eventually.”

  I roll onto my side and look at Peach, “Okay, back to reality. I like your idea about a survey, and I think I need to focus on the mating and how they find potential partners.”

  “Thinking about what your asshole ex said, I wonder how often people end up with their perfect vision of their mate?”

  “I don’t know. That sounds like a master’s thesis,” I wink. I hope to go to graduate school next year so thinking about future research isn’t a terrible idea.