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Going Deep Sample
Foreword
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1
Red
“I don’t want to be a virgin anymore, Fran! I feel like it’s all just this huge build up and like this black cloud hanging over my head. I just want to do it—boom—and get it over with so I’m not so nervous, ya know?”
My roommate Fran looks back at me with raised eyebrows and a look of skepticism like I just told her I learned how to fly and am planning a trip to the moon.
“Um, no,” she says simply.
We’re sitting in a corner booth at The Pub, the dive bar just off campus, sipping some kind of terrible craft beer Fran wanted to get. We may be freshman, but Fran’s brother got us both fake IDs last week so we could get in.
“Your first time should be special, Red,” she says, sounding like my mom. For a brief second, I resent her T-shirt, patterned with musical notes. But then I take a breath and tell myself to cool down. “It should be with someone you really like.”
“But I don’t really like anybody,” I remind her. “All the art guys are wimps, the science guys are more into watching porn on their computers that they built, and the jocks…well…”
“Yeah, the jocks…” she muses, taking another sip of her beer. Fran and I may not always get along, but when it comes to the meatheads on campus, we definitely see eye to eye.
Fran’s a music major and I’m a weirdo art major. A lot of people think those are easy majors, but they just don’t have a clue. I spend more time in the art building than I do in my own dorm room, and Fran’s fingers are about to fall off from all the time she spends practicing violin at the music building. As such, neither of us are high up on any guys’ lists.
“I mean—they have nice bodies,” I say. “But most of them have the personality of a ten-year-old paintbrush.”
“What, you don’t like the I-am-the-king-of-everything attitude?” Fran laughs. “The every-girl-wants-my-dick face that they make when they walk into a room?”
“Oh, I love it!” I say sarcastically, glancing around the bar as a group of them walks in. I point discretely to the one in front, who for some stupid reason, is wearing a pair of green sunglasses despite the room being dimly lit.
“Look at him. for example,” I say. “He’s making a very subtle fashion statement with those glasses, which of course makes my ovaries swell for him, and that cut-off T-shirt has my baby-making instincts on overdrive. If I could only get his dick in me!”
Fran giggles and points to the one behind him, one of those jock guys who’s decided to see if he can grow his hair longer than most girls, and tosses his head like Fabio as he cracks a joke to his buddy.
“And him? He knows girls will want to just sit behind him and braid his hair before he fucks them,” she explains with a smile. “I’m barely able to contain myself right now! Maybe I can use his hair to repair the bow on my violin!”
I stifle a laugh and cover my face as the two of them look over in our direction.
“Oh, don’t look!” Fran whispers. “They might come talk to you!”
“Eeek!”
“But then again, maybe you want that?” she asks. “Since you’re in such a hurry to lose that V-card of yours.”
“And you’re not?” I ask. “Come on, Fran, I’ve seen the sheets moving at night at least a few times.”