Desired Read online

  Cover

  Title Page

  Vice, Virtue & Video: Desired

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  Bianca Giovanni

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  Omnific Publishing

  Los Angeles

  Copyright Information

  Vice, Virtue & Video: Desired, Copyright © 2014 by Bianca Giovanni

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  ...

  Omnific Publishing

  1901 Avenue of the Stars, 2nd Floor

  Los Angeles, California 90067

  www.omnificpublishing.com

  ...

  First Omnific eBook edition, July 2014

  First Omnific trade paperback edition, July 2014

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  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

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  Giovanni, Bianca.

  Vice, Virtue & Video: Desired / Bianca Giovanni – 1st ed

  ISBN: 978-1-623421-26-7

  1. Erotic Romance—Fiction. 2. Friendship—Fiction. 3. Porn Star—Fiction. 4. New Adult—Fiction. I. Title

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  Cover Design by Micha Stone and Amy Brokaw

  Interior Book Design by Coreen Montagna

  Dedication

  For the Vice Squad

  Chapter 1

  James

  THE LAUNDRY ROOM IS SMALL, windowless, and smells of mildew. The machines are old and kind of loud. The fluorescent lights flicker a little, and the whole place reminds me that I live in a crappy apartment building. But I couldn’t care less. Right now, I’m on cloud nine. The past three months have been the best of my life. I am living the fuckin’ dream!

  Lola moved in with me almost immediately after we got back from her mom’s house, and we’ve been having sex practically non-stop since then. If I thought sex was awesome before, I had no fuckin’ clue how great it could be with the girl you love. Having sex versus making love. Now I know there’s a difference. With Lola, it’s always making love, spiritual shit that makes me feel like our souls are intertwining. Nothing—and I mean nothing—has ever been this good.

  Right now, she’s at yoga, and I’m doing laundry to keep myself busy. When I’m not around her, I daydream about her. It’s basically an obsession—like, almost to the level where I need fuckin’ rehab. She has the keys, the title, and the deed to my heart. I am so fuckin’ hers. I didn’t really think I’d ever fall in love, ever be able to fully hand my heart over to somebody like that. Man, was I wrong. I didn’t just fall in love with Lola; I plummeted. Now just hearing her name makes me smile. And forget about when we’re in bed! Looking in her eyes and listening to her moaning my name…holy fuckin’ shit is that awesome!

  I sigh to myself as I watch the clothes tumble around in the dryer. I know I’m a total dork about this relationship because even the knowledge that our clothes are in there mingling makes me happy. When she moved her stuff into my closet—even though she bogarted ninety percent of the space in there—I was just psyched to know that she officially lived with me. My apartment is small and pretty crappy, but she made it feel like home. The world is so fuckin’ bright and vivid with Lola by my side.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I see that it’s Lola’s mom.

  “Hey, Theresa!” I answer cheerfully.

  “Hey, sweetheart. Is Lola at yoga? It went right to voice mail when I called.”

  “Yeah. She gets out in, like, twenty minutes, though.”

  “Okay. I was just calling to see if she saw that Marcus and Evan are getting married. I bumped into Evan’s mom at the store the other day, and she was just elated. I’m guessing Lola saw it on Facebook already, but I wanted to tell her.”

  “She mentioned that Marcus changed his relationship status. I know she was pretty happy for him.”

  “I’m planning to send a gift. Do you guys want me to put your names on it too?” she asks.

  “How about we all chip in on it and get them something big?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Okay. We’ll figure it all out when we see the registry and stuff.”

  “Great. So, honey, how have you two kids been? Is Lola applying for jobs yet?”

  Lola quit that shitty job at the accountant’s office, and now we mostly just hang out and have sex all day. So…paradise, basically.

  “I think she’s been sending out résumés and stuff. She was adding a bunch of people on LinkedIn the other day,” I say.

  Lola woke up early that morning and insisted that she needed to stop acting like a “horny, sex-crazed teenager” and start getting her shit together. She was doing the job search thing for about forty-five minutes before I got under the desk and started going down on her. That proved to be a pretty big distraction, and she ended up riding me on the desk chair for, like, a half an hour. Of course, Theresa doesn’t need to know that.

  “I’m glad she’s taking some action,” Theresa says. “Hopefully she’ll get more serious about it once you guys get back from Vegas.”

  This weekend, me and Lola are going to Sin City for the Adult Video Awards, where my movie, Collared, is nominated in a bunch of categories—and I’m up for Man of the Year, the biggest award a dude can win. Everyone in the industry freaked out when I announced that I was retiring, so they did that typical thing of honoring the departing guy with a hefty nomination. I was up for it once before when I was twenty-two, but now it looks like I might be a front-runner.

  “I think everything will settle down after the awards,” I reply.

  Theresa knows why we’ll be in Vegas, though it’s been a little awkward to discuss it. My career is one of those things we all know about and accept, but nobody’s quite ready to talk about, so it’s always kind of glossed over in conversations. I think the saving grace is that I’m done now and I have no intention of ever fucking on film again.

  “Everything happened pretty fast with moving in together and stuff, so I’m sure we’ll get back to normal soon,” I add.

  “I’m sure you will,” she replies, sounding genuinely optimistic. “Well, sweetheart, let Lola know about Marcus and Evan.”

  “Will do.”

  “Talk to you later. Love you both.”

  “Love you too.”

  I hang up the phone and breathe a sigh of contentment. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting Theresa to be so cool about me dating her daughter. Most moms would throw a fit if their little girl brought home a former porn star, but Theresa’s known me since I was nine, so she’s cool with me. Not that she didn’t freak out a little—she must have—but she never showed it. All we got was that she loved us, that she was happy for us, and that she knew all along that this would happen. It was pretty sweet to not have any giant objections, because I would have been bummed if Theresa wasn’t for it. Her approval makes me feel like I’m good enough, like I’m worthy of someone as perfect as Lola.

  I take the clothes out of the dryer and bring the laundry back upstairs to put it away. I’m standing here folding clothes, and I feel totally happy. This is some “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah” shit, like I could start whistling a tune and an animated bird would land on my shoulder to sing the chorus. Life is good, baby! Life is good!

  Chapter 2

  Lola

  STACEY AND I ROLL UP OUR MATS and walk out of the spacious studio. I feel thoroughly stretched and relaxed, and I’ve got a slight sheen of sweat on my skin, but she’s not even a little wo
rn out. She’s so damn good at this! She’s been coming to yoga with me every day, and it’s been like our little bonding time together. I’ve never really had a female best friend, and the whole “girl talk” thing has been kind of fun.

  After Eva was arrested, Stacey had nowhere to go. She’d received a little money from a civil suit that James financed for her—because he’s still cripplingly guilty about what happened on their shoots—but she was so isolated during her years with Eva that she didn’t have any friends to rely on once she was free. At the same time, I moved in with James but still had several months left on my lease, so Stacey moved into my old place. I’m pretty sure James is a little freaked out about living two doors down from her, but he’ll get over it. Stacey harbors no ill will toward him, and she even said she’d like to get to know him better, though he seems to politely avoid her most of the time.

  In the past three months, Stacey has become like a sister to me. She was in the eye of the storm with me, and I feel bonded to her after going through such a tumultuous period together. Nowadays, I’ve made it my goal to take care of her and help her blossom. She’s eating better now, and she’s gained enough weight to make her frail body look more voluptuous. She’s lost the dark circles under her eyes, and she recently revamped her hairstyle, going for a Marilyn Monroe look. She and I are also getting really fit with all this yoga.

  “You should take the harder class,” I say, redoing my ponytail. “The Vinyasa is like kindergarten for you.”

  She looks bashful, but I can also see a little pride in her eyes. “Would you do the harder class with me?”

  “Maybe someday. But if I tried that shit now, there’s no amount of massage that would ease my muscles. I’m not bendy like you.”

  “Yes, you are.” She playfully rolls her eyes. “You told me about the coffee table incident.”

  The other day, James and I were fooling around on the couch, which somehow escalated into boning on the coffee table. It’s not the sturdiest surface, so we had to get a little creative with our positions. Stacey was cackling with amusement when I described it to her.

  “Do you think he’d be impressed with how far I can get my legs behind my head now?” I joke. “I haven’t busted out that skill yet.”

  She snickers and shakes her head. “Young love.”

  We make our way toward my car in the parking lot when I spot a familiar face. Ethan Dane, James’s former rival, has a rolled-up mat under his arm and gives us a wave when he sees us.

  “Hi, Lola,” he says, jogging over and giving me a hug. “I didn’t know you did yoga here.”

  “Yeah, I was usually just doing once a week or so, but now I’m trying to do it every day.”

  “What class do you go to?”

  “I just do Vinyasa,” I modestly reply.

  “You should come for Bikram,” he says. “It’s really invigorating, gets out all your toxins.”

  “I think I’d probably feel gross being all sweaty.”

  “Unless it’s in the bedroom,” Stacey teases.

  “Shut up!” I gasp, instantly blushing.

  Ethan laughs and glances warmly at Stacey. “Hi. I’m Ethan.”

  “I’m Stacey. Nice to meet you.” She looks a little nervous, and I know it’s because she’s worried that he’ll recognize her. She’s never overtly said it, but I know part of the reason for her transformation was so she could hide from her brutal past.

  “Very nice to meet you too. So you’re into Bikram too, huh?”

  “I’ve only done it a few times,” she shyly replies, “but I really liked it.”

  “She’s pretty much the master of all yoga,” I say, nudging her with my shoulder. “I keep telling her she should become an instructor.”

  His eyes light up. “You totally should! They have an amazing teacher-training program here. I actually looked into it a while back, but I got kind of bogged down with scenes.”

  “Ethan’s one of James’s friends from work.” I know that Stacey already knows this, but I figure stating it this way will help give the impression that she’s naïve about the industry.

  He bites his lip in a cute, slightly flirty way as he looks up at both of us. Ethan is hot—I’m not going to sit here and try to claim that he isn’t—but my heart belongs to James, and no amount of sexy lip biting will ever sway me.

  “You’re going to the awards this weekend, right?” I ask.

  He nods enthusiastically. “I’m up for the Man of the Year nomination too.”

  “Oh, that’s right! We’re headed for a showdown!” I joke.

  Ethan laughs loudly. “I think James has this one in the bag.”

  “I have no clue.” I put my hands in the air with uncertainty.

  “Nah, he’s winning it for sure.”

  “He doesn’t want to show it, but I can tell he’s totally psyched,” I say. “Ever since they announced the nominees last month, you can’t even mention the awards without him going all giddy.”

  I can see Stacey trying not to laugh. I’ve made no attempt to be secretive about James’s adorableness. Her traumatic scenes with James would seem to be in direct contrast to his true gentle, warm, kind nature, but I think she knew he wasn’t cruel like that in reality. Now, she just seems very amused that someone who comes off as a growly badass can be such a sweetheart.

  “Collared was a huge hit,” Ethan says. “That scene with him and Amber was phenomenal, so they deserve to win.”

  “Aw, thanks,” I say. Is it weird to thank him for complimenting my boyfriend on how “phenomenally” he had sex with one of his co-stars?

  “I should probably get in there,” he says, motioning to the building. “It was great to see you, Lola—and really nice to meet you, Stacey.”

  “You, too.”

  She doesn’t think I see it, but I notice her eyes darting over him for a quick second. I’ve never been entirely sure about her sexual preference—she’s been with girls and guys, and I don’t think she really defaults one way or the other.

  I hug Ethan goodbye, and Stacey and I get into my car. We buckle up, and I turn to slyly grin at her.

  “What?”

  “Blushing!” I accuse.

  “I am not!”

  “Hey, he’s dreamy,” I tease. “I blush when he talks to me too.”

  “Oh, my God! I am not blushing!” She looks so cute and youthful.

  “Sure. Okay.”

  “I’m not!” She giggles and turns to face the window.

  “Uh-huh,” I skeptically reply before pulling out of the parking lot. “Maybe this will make you consider that Bikram class.”

  She’s adorably embarrassed, and I like seeing the bubbly side of her personality. She still has a submissive quality about her, but she’s so different from the damaged person she was when I met her.

  We pull up to the apartments and part ways outside my old door. I hurry down to James’s place—which is now my place too—and dart inside.

  “You better have those pants off already!” I yell, tossing my purse on the couch.

  “Way ahead of you, cupcake!” he calls back.

  I make my way into our bedroom to find him leaning on the wall, looking behind the TV. He’s totally naked except for a belt, from which he’s hung a hammer and surge protector in lieu of actual tools.

  “What in the hell is this?” I say, already laughing.

  “Miss, I understand there’s been a problem with your cable,” he begins in the most exaggerated sexy whisper I’ve ever heard. “I’m here to see if we can’t get some juice to your box.”

  I’m cracking up so hard my stomach hurts. I can’t even breathe. I hear him laugh too, but he gets right back into character.

  “Good thing for you, I have the right equipment. I just need to plug you in. Maybe you’d be interested in a little HD,” he says, grabbing his dick.

  “And in this case that stands for…?”

  “Huge Dick, of course.”

  I’m going to burst. Tears are spilling
down my cheeks as I cackle, and he looks quite proud of himself.

  When I can finally regain a little composure, I step closer and run my hands up his chest. “But, Mr. Sexy Cable Guy, I don’t think my little cable box can handle your HD. Whatever shall I do?” I say, licking my lips at him.

  “I’m sure I can make it work, miss. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to get HD with that box if you know how to work the connections.” He leans down and kisses my neck.

  “Is this all you’ve done all day?” I ask, giggling. “You’ve sat around the house planning a live-action cable guy porn scene for me?”

  “It was between this or playing Xbox in my underwear,” he says, grinning at me. “I wanted to do a doctor thing, but I didn’t have a stethoscope.”

  I lean my forehead into his chest and laugh loudly. “Just get down here and kiss me,” I say when I look back up at him.

  He’s totally beaming as he cups the back of my head and kisses me passionately.

  The fact that he even thinks of goofy ideas like this only solidifies my belief that he’s perfect for me. He’s the ideal balance of sexiness and humor, and it’s no wonder I’m madly in love with him.

  Chapter 3

  James

  THE DESERT LANDSCAPE is zipping by and the bass is bumping as I blaze down I-15 on the way to Las Vegas. Lola is riding shotgun, and we’re singing off-key to tunes on her iPod.

  We’ve just finished Ice Cube’s “It Was a Good Day,” and the old school hip-hop mix has shuffled to “Just a Friend” by Biz Markie. We both trade off lines until we hit the chorus, loudly belting it out.

  I always get really pumped up on awards weekend, but this time around is going to be way different, because this is my first time having a real date to the show. Usually, I’d go with whoever was my most recent co-star as a PR move to help promote the movie by appearing on the red carpet together, but this time I’ll have an actual girlfriend on my arm—and a totally hot girlfriend at that!

  I feel like this unstoppable desire I have for her keeps getting cranked up with every passing mile as we drive. Maybe it’s the way her legs look in her cut-off jean shorts; maybe it’s the fact that I mentally associate the awards with wild, crazy, freaky sex; or maybe it’s just that sitting here thinking about how much I love her also makes me think about how much I like making love to her, but I want her so bad right now that I’m practically speeding to the hotel.