Layla Ch. 01

“I have to go,” She said.

She stubbed the cigarette in the ashtray, stepped into the silver dress and heels, grabbed her bag and stepped to the table. She dumped a big shot of bourbon into the cup, drained it and disappeared out the door.

The guitar player closed his eyes and slept again.

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“C’mon, Honey,” Lisa urged. “Get yourself a shower. “I’m gonna call Leafa when I get home and we’re going to O’Brian’s tonight.”

“I’ve got the kids,” Layla protested.

“Ronald can watch the kids tonight,” Lisa scolded. “We are going on the streets tonight!”

Lisa pulled Layla to her feet and danced out the door looking for Ronny. She found him in his room sitting on the side of his bed, staring down at his still cum coated pecker. He was still semi-erect. She entered and closed the door behind her. Ronny looked up.

“Lisa……I…..” He stammered.

“Shhh….,” She hushed him, kneeling between his legs. “You just relax now, Lover Man, and let Miss Lisa help you with this little problem you have here.”

She took him in her hands and lifted his cock to her lips. Her tongue flicked out, touching the smooth helmet of his hardness. He twitched with her contact. She engulfed him, pulling him deep into her throat. Ronny gasped as she sucked him completely down to his hairy balls. Then she eased off and pulled him in yet again. Within a minute he was filling her throat with his thick sperm. He collapsed back on the bed when she let him pop from her lips.

“This is going to be our little secret,” Lisa stated. “Layla might not approve of this just yet.”

“I won’t breathe a word,” Ronny hissed. “Thanks, Lisa.”

“We want you to baby sit for the brats tonight, Ronald.” Lisa said. “I’m taking your mother out for some R & R.”

“Sure, Lisa,” Ronny said. “Anything you say.”

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Layla stood under the hot water for a long time. The stinging spray of the water-pick causing her skin to tingle. She shampooed her strawberry blond hair and rinsed it. Then she lathered her whole body, rubbing her self all over with the huge sponge she used in the shower. She paid special attention to the tender lips of her pussy. She’d nearly rubbed herself raw over the past few days and she didn’t want to chafe. But she still burned for a hot hard cock pounding into her. How hard she had cum when Ronny had fucked Lisa right there on top of her. And his cock was so beautiful……..!

‘My God, Layla! Stop thinking about Ronny’s cock,’ She thought. ‘He’s my son!’ But she could still see the image of him standing there, cum dripping on Lisa’s ass. And his flavor when she had tasted it. Her pussy was welling again.

Stepping from the shower, she toweled off and wrapped her hair up. She turned and stared at her body in the mirror on the bathroom door. She still looked good at 40. Her legs were long and shapely. She stood 5’-8” and weighed 135. She had a little belly, but after all, she’d had four kids. Her tits sagged a bit but were still full and round, with large areola and nipples that hardened at the slightest hint of a caress.

Her strawberry blond hair was shortish, and went its own way without much attention. Her face was round, her eyes blue and sparkling, and her lips were full and red. Her reflection looked softly back at her from the mirror. Layla liked what she saw. But, she was still horny!

She pulled her robe on and went to the living room to check on the kids. The younger children were out in the yard, and Ronny was standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing a pair of gym shorts and munching on a sandwich. Layla’s heart stopped as she made eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry, Ma,” Ronny whispered. “I just……”

“Ronny,” Layla said, lovingly placing her hands on his bare chest. “We’ll have to talk about this at some point, but this just is not the time.”

“I know, but….” He started again.

“Ronny, Please!” She asserted her motherly prerogative. “It happened. Lisa’s on cloud nine. You obviously had a wonderful morning. What else is there to say?”

“I love you, Ma.” Ronny said. And he kissed her on the lips, and walked down the hall to his room.

Layla stood there in shock.

“This is not happening,” She said out loud.

The phone rang once. Ronny answered in his room. She heard him call from down the hall and picked it up in the kitchen.

“Hi, Sweetie,” A sultry voice drooled in her ear. “It’s me, Leafa.”

Leafa was as whacked out as Lisa, and just as spontaneous. A sultry, buxom brunette with a flashing smile and mischief in her heart. Married to a troll of a man whom she claimed had an 11” cock. Lisa has been trying to find out for sure for half of her life to no avail.

“Hi, Hon,” Layla replied, happy to hear from her.

“Lisa says we’re doin’ Patty’s tonight,” Leafa announced. “Be sexy, Hon. Lisa says she’s gonna get you bred tonight.”

“Jesus, Leafa,” Layla complained. “Is nothing sacred in this world?”

“Not to us. You know that, Girlfriend.” Leafa giggled. “So, Hon, when do I get a chance to play with Ronny Boy?”

“LEAFA!” Layla shrieked. “Have you no shame? He’s only twenty years old!”

“Way I hear it, Sugar, he’s hung like John Holmes.” She giggled.

“What’s the use,” Layla gasped. “You driving tonight?”

“Yup, see you at 8 o’clock,” Leafa declared and hung up.

Layla glanced at the clock. It said 1:40. She had errands to run and needed to pick up a few bucks at the redi-teller for tonight. She changed quickly and told Ronny to watch the others.

She got back before 5 o’clock and fixed dinner for the kids before she went to get ready for her night out with the girls. She was excited, and very horny. She was damp already in anticipation of the evening’s events. She chose a white silky peasant blouse with puffy sleeves, which she wore off the shoulders, a very short black mini skirt, black lace bikini panties and an almost nothing black lace bra. Black stockings, garter and 4” spikes completed her outfit. She highlighted her eyes with eyeliner and shadow, and used shiny cranberry lip gloss.

She stuck her head in Ronny’s door as she was about to leave. He looked up at her and all the color drained from his face.

“What’s the matter, Ronny?” She gasped, stepping into his room.

“Geez, Ma,” He whispered. “If I had a woman looked like you do right now, I’d never look at another woman again.”

“Sweet talker,” Layla said, noticing the bulge forming in his shorts. “I’ll probably be late. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Sure, Ma, Have a ball.” He said softly.

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Layla heard Leafa when she leaned on the horn out front. She crossed the walk and opened the passenger door on the emerald green Lexus, and slid into the soft velvet seat beside her friend.

“Damn, Girlfriend, you’re on fire tonight,” Leafa said. “The sharks’ll be circling for sure.”

Layla’s skirt had crawled up past her nylon tops, exposing a lot of creamy soft thigh. Leafa’s hand crept across the seat and she stroked a long burgundy nail along Layla’s leg, bringing goose flesh to her leg.

“Whoa, Girl,” Layla hissed, immediately feeling the stirrings begin in her loins. “Let’s us get to the club before you get all fuzzy on me.”

Leafa giggled and spun the wheel and floored the pedal. They drove to Lisa’s apartment and found her just stepping out into the parking lot as they pulled in. She had on a dark blue one piece dress that clung to Lisa’s petite body. And clear platform shoes. Lots of make up and bright pink, fuck my mouth, lipstick. She climbed in the back.

Leafa, as usual was her same stark gothic self, all in black with milky white makeup and her trademark black die job in her hair. Her big soft tits fought to get out of her shirt and her shoes were kind of cloddy looking but she was stunning.

The drive from St. Claude Heights into the French Quarter took the better part of an hour and as luck would have it, they found a parking spot just up the block from Pat O’Brian’s Club. A quick check of the make up and they were out of the car and standing outside the patio entrance to the famous bar.

The bouncer looked them over, recognized Leafa, who immediately whispered something in his ear, and then ushered them inside without collecting the customary cover charge. This meant of course, that Leafa was probably obligated to give her friend on the door a blow job at some point during the evening.

“What’d you tell him?” Lisa asked.

“I told him I’d be out to see him later,” She grated.

“Cunt,” Lisa giggled.

“Look who’s talking, Slut,” Leafa grated. “Which one of us carries a strap-on in her purse for those very special occasions?”

Lisa flipped Leafa the bird as the trio entered the smoke filled night club. A jazz band was playing up on the stage at the far end of the room. The dance floor was partially filled with people. All the tables at the back of the room were full already so they worked their way down the side of the room to an empty table right below the piano player.

He immediately sized them up and shot them a toothy smile. A dumpy waitress with a large wad of gum in her jaw took their drink order and vanished with Layla’s fifty dollar bill, returning with her change which was mostly ones and a couple of fives. Layla deposited the lump of small bills in her tiny bag and sat on it.

Layla loved to dance. She watched the couples on the dance floor and then looked around the room to see if there were any singles she could ask to dance. She felt a touch on her shoulder and turned to see a smiling freckled face over her shoulder. The young man, Tibideaux, asked her to dance.

Tibideaux was an excellent dancer and soon Layla had been swept far away from the table where her friends sat and into the thick of the crowd on the floor. They danced until the band took a break, before they returned to the table. Lisa was sitting on Layla’s purse, and Leafa had disappeared for the moment.

Layla introduced Tibi to Lisa and excused her self to the powder room. Lisa offered Tibi a seat at the table, which he anxiously accepted. By the time Layla had returned, Lisa had her hand in Tibi’s lap under the table. Layla returned and rolled her eyes when she saw what was going on.

“Buy ya a drink, Sexy Lady?” A smooth voice crooned in her ear.

Layla turned and stared up into the toothy face of the handsome piano player.

“Sure,” Layla said, “Why not? Hurricane. What’s your name?”

“My friends call me Plink,” He answered, motioning for a waitress. “Want to be my friend?”

“Hi, Plink,” Layla cooed, “My friends call me Layla Baby. I’d love to be your friend.”

“I’ll see you next break then?” He questioned handing her the huge drink.

“I’ll be right there,” She said, pointing to her chair just a few feet away.

Layla’s pussy had begun to moisten already. She sat and watched as Plink started to play through the next set. Two more Hurricanes appeared before he returned at the conclusion of his set. Layla was feeling the buzz from the strong drinks and she felt giddy when Plink came to the table, reached for her hand, pulled her up and lead her away from her friends.

He steered her to the far end of the room where a wide spiral staircase led up to a large party room on the second floor of O’Brian’s. A wedding reception was just winding down and the club staff was busy cleaning up the trash from the highly charged party. Plink guided Layla past the tables to the bar at the opposite end of the room from the stairs. Most of the activity was now at the front of the room and he and Layla crossed behind the bar where they were mostly unnoticed by the rest. Plink turned her around and pulled her close to him. Layla was a bit startled at first but quickly stretched her hands behind his head and pulled his face down to hers. Their lips met in a hungry open mouthed kiss.

Plink’s hands found the soft cheeks of her butt within seconds and he had her skirt pulled up and a finger pressing the thin lace of her panties firmly against her tiny pucker. Layla’s panties were soaked. Plink worked his digit farther under her and inside the leg band, slipping easily into her wet pussy. Layla’s orgasm was swift and strong, leaving her breathless.

She groped between then for his fly and fought with the stubborn zipper. Just as she was about to conquer her objective, a voice called from across the room.

“Plink! We’re on,” He beckoned. “You got all night for that shit!”

“Sorry, Hon.” Plink gasped. “Maybe later, huh?”

“Yeah, Sure,” Layla smiled, pulling her skirt back over her butt and lining up her panties.

‘Fuck me, this can’t be happening!’ Layla thought.

When she returned to the table, Leafa and Lisa were standing there, waiting for her.

“We’re out of here,” Lisa demanded. “That kid was only seventeen and could have gotten us busted. Leafa’s buddy just threw him out.”

Leafa’s make up was a bit out of adjustment too. Layla surmised she must have gone out back with the dude from the front door and taken a shot in the throat for the cover charge. Layla had her own problems. Her pussy was leaking so profusely, it was soaking the tops of her stockings.

They squeezed through the crowd exiting out to the front sidewalk.

“They’ve got a really tight band from Jacksonville, Florida at the Gateway,” Leafa stated, pointing up Bourbon Street toward the east. “Just a couple of blocks up that way. Let’s walk.”

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The three friends walked slowly up Bourbon Street. New Orleans is hot in August, and this night was no exception. They peered in the store front windows as they walked, giggling from the effects of the alcohol already consumed. It was nearly midnight when they entered the blues club.

They found a table close to the front and ordered Hurricanes all around. As advertised, the band was splendid. All the players were older guys, over fifty and all expert in their craft. The music was rich and dreamy, funky and sweet, downright gut wrenching at times, but always tight. Layla clued in on the big man on guitar as soon as she saw him and heard the way he played. His intensity was terrifying. Each time it came his turn to play a solo, he would close his eyes, lay his head back or to the side and let his fingers dance over the strings. Each song told its own story. No two tunes sounded alike. Each had a personality of its own.

His voice had a soulful rasp that drifted out over the room like a cloud, and then vanished over the horizon. The words told the story of the blues. Pain and suffering, lost love, heartache, drunken nights and cold hearts. Then a love song would fill you up again and make you warm inside. Layla floated into the music and almost missed it when they stopped playing.

The house lights came on and the players stepped down from the stage and began casing their instruments. The big man carried his guitar to the storage room and returned to find Layla and her friends talking to Drew, the bass man. Layla turned as he approached. She looked into his tired eyes and smiled. He smiled back.

The guitar man wore a full silver beard, neatly trimmed. His jeans were kind of baggy and his shirt was black with blue and silver flames burning up from the bottom. His belly reminded her of Santa Claus.

“Hi, I’m Layla,” She said softly, extending her hand to the guitar man.

He took her hand, bent slightly at the waist and raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly on the back of her fingers. His lips lingered just a few seconds longer than she expected.

“Why, yes you are,” The guitar man said in his soft southern voice. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma’am. Care to join me for a night cap?”

Layla melted in her panties. The big man motioned for her to take a seat at the very end of the bar where it was dimly lit and quiet at this time of night.

He ordered whiskey and water for himself and she asked for a Diet Coke. He raised an eyebrow but she explained that she might have had enough to drink already and she wanted to remember the rest of the night, no matter what might happen.

“What ever could happen?” The guitar man asked.

“You just never know,” She replied.

Layla sat with her elbows on the bar, her chin in her hands and gazed at the old guitar man. She asked questions about his music. He told her stories about the road and places he had been. Leafa and Lisa brought her back to reality announcing it was after two and time for them to go home. Layla was crushed.

“I’ll grab a cab, you go on ahead,” Layla insisted.

“You know we won’t leave you here by yourself,” Lisa demanded.

Layla got up, walked her friends to the door, and assured them she was old enough to get herself safely home when she wanted to. Lisa and Leafa reluctantly departed, leaving Layla in the clutches of the guitar player.

She returned to the bar, regaining her perch on the stool next to the swarthy man. They chatted for a few minutes about nothing. At three o’clock, the bartender finally ordered them to get out so he could close up. They giggled and made their way out the front of the deserted building.

Bourbon Street, usually thriving with tourists and all other types of humanity, was nearly deserted at this hour.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“Dave,” he stated, reaching to take her hand in his as they strolled slowly up the street, “Yours?”

“Layla,” She replied.

“Pretty name for a beautiful lady,” He said.

She could feel the heat from the sidewalk drifting up her legs. Or was it from the sidewalk?

“Thanks,” She whispered.

“You want another drink?” Dave asked.

“I don’t think so.” She answered.

“You married?” He asked.

After a short pause, she asked, “Does it matter?”

“Only to you,” He said.

He stopped walking. Turned her to face him and nodded to the building across the street. A sign carefully lettered in gold identified the building as The Bourgoyne Guest House.

“My stop,” He said.

Layla stretched up on her toes, put her hands behind the big man’s head and pulled his face down to hers. Her lips met his and they touched briefly before parting.

“Mine too,” She whispered, pulling his face back to hers.

The kiss lasted for a full minute. Her tongue wrestling with his. She could feel his cock lengthen against her belly as they kissed. He took her hand and led her across the street and into the boarding house. They climbed the steps to the second floor and walked half way down the outside balcony to the door numbered 13.

“Looks like this might be my lucky night,” Layla quipped as Dave pushed the door inward and groped for the light switch.

Dave’s room was actually two rooms. A sitting area in front with a compact kitchenette and a bedroom to the rear with the bathroom on the left. Two guitar cases stood in a corner. A half empty bottle of Maker’s Mark stood on the counter by the little sink.

Layla dropped her purse on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She stood just inside the door while Dave crossed the room to turn on another light. The room was cozy. Layla felt safe with Dave. Like she was out on a date with her daddy.

‘God,’ She thought. ‘I haven’t thought about daddy in years.’

Dave straightened and turned to face Layla from across the room. They stood eight feet apart. Layla placed her hand on the desk next to her to steady herself and raised first one foot and then the other, removing her high-heeled shoes. Then she brought her fingers to the top button of her blouse and slowly began to unbutton it from the top to the bottom. Shrugging her shoulders, she slipped the blouse down over her arms and dropped it to the floor behind her feet.

Reaching down, she pulled her skirt around so the zipper came to the front and tugged it down. The skirt fluttered to the floor. She stepped out of it and stood in her black lacy bra, panties, garter belt and hose. Dave slowly pulled off his shirt and lowered his pants to the floor. He wore no under ware so he now stood there naked.