The Glamorous Passenger Ch. 03

Author's note: 10 months is way too long to wait between chapters, but--Like Kay--I work two jobs to keep the bills paid, so I don't have as much time as I'd like for writing. Plus, this chapter has turned out to be unusually long and difficult to write as it is basically a story unto itself.

This chapter is narrated by Melissa. As much as Kay and I begged her, she couldn't stop herself from revealing the ending of this saga. If you want the ending to be a surprise, I suggest you skip this one as this is a flashback and does not advance the main plot of the story. Or at least stop before the final paragraph. However, this also can be a stand-alone story, although if you haven't read the first two chapters, you may miss some references.

This is a bit of a departure for me as a writer because I usually like putting the sex at the end with maybe an epilogue afterward. But in this case, the structure of this chapter required that I put the sex scene only about 3/4 of the way in, with more story following.

A couple of characters from my story "An Unexpected Friendship" are briefly mentioned. See if you can spot them.

Disclaimer: In college, I was a liberal arts major and avoided Greek life as much as I could. I know very little of what it takes to be a business major or what goes on in a sorority house as I have no first-hand experience of either, so please forgive me if I've messed up some details.

Standard disclaimer: All explicit sexual activity described in this story is between consenting adults 18 and over.

Enjoy!

Hey, guys! This is Melissa. By now, you should have read the first two chapters where Kay told the story of how we spent our first night together. She's going to write the rest of our story, but she wanted me to write this chapter because she says it's not her part to tell. It's about my first serious girlfriend in college and how that relationship affected every relationship since then, including with Kay.

But first, let me quickly tell you another story about the one who got away. I promise, this also has a bearing on our relationship:

On my 21^st birthday, I went out to a club with some friends to celebrate. Almost as soon as I stepped in, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I turned around and the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life was staring at me with undisguised desire, even though she was dancing with a guy who looked like Adrian Grenier from "Entourage." She was a few years older than me--probably mid-to-late twenties--and had alabaster skin and this luscious curly light-brown hair that went down all the way to her perfect Beyonce-shaped ass in a pair of skin-tight jeans. I couldn't tell if her eyes were blue, green or gray, but they were mesmerizing. She was wearing a very snug beige wife-beater that showed off her magnificent D-cup breasts and made it look like she might be topless in the dim light (except that her nipples and cleavage weren't visible).

I was single at the time, and never one to shy away from hooking up with an attractive female who showed an interest in me. So, when the guy she was with headed for the restroom, I approached her and asked her if she wanted to buy me a drink. And that's when things went sideways. She said she was really flattered. And yes, she was very attracted to me, but she was here with a guy, and she was going home with him. And besides, now that she had a good look at me up close, she was certain I was too young to be in the club and she didn't buy drinks for minors, and I should call her when I was out of high school.

I have never been more embarrassed in my life to be shot down like that. But for the next 15 years, my go-to masturbation fantasy was to imagine what it would have been like if I had managed to come home with her.

****************

Anyhow, back to the main point of this chapter, my relationship with Layla.

I started my freshman year of college in the early 2000's, and at the time I was seeing a guy named Chad. We were very much in love, or so we both thought. On my 18^th birthday, he gave me a promise ring. Two months later, on his 18^th birthday, I gave him my virginity. However, the relationship was not without its problems. I truly loved him, but there had been a moment of infidelity on my part during my senior year in high school (more details about that later). Another problem we had was that we were attending separate colleges. My parents would only pay if I attended this school that was close to home, whereas he had taken an opportunity to study at an elite institution on the East coast.

I was pledging to a sorority as a legacy and once I got in, I would be living in the sorority house as per my mother's wishes, but for now I was living in an off-campus apartment. Even though my mother's eventual career was modelling, she went to the same private college that I was now attending, but for very different purposes. She enrolled looking to snag a husband from a well-to-do family and was hoping I would be doing the same. However, I had enrolled here because they had challenging business courses that I knew I would have to take if I ever wanted to achieve my dream of taking over my dad's car dealership. Already I was making headway on that front. In high school, I had convinced Dad that he couldn't continue to only sell Oldsmobiles and Pontiacs as they weren't much in demand anymore, and by the start of this new model year he was also selling Hondas and Acuras.

I loved all my business courses, but my major required that I take advanced math. My interests were more with business strategies and analyzing market trends rather than abstract numbers and figures. My intention was--if I were ever to take over my dad's business--to have bookkeepers and accountants go over the numbers and details. Math beyond basic arithmetic was never my strong suit. But there was this one student in my calculus class--her name was Layla Ramos--who seemed to have a gift for this stuff, so I decided I would ask her for help. Little did I know that this decision would have consequences beyond this one class and would affect the rest of my life.

Layla was petite, standing 4'11" in bare feet and weighing less than a hundred pounds. Her straight black hair was in a bowl cut that just covered the tops of her ears. I never saw her wearing makeup and her go-to wardrobe was a loose t-shirt with baggy jeans and tennis shoes. Although her last name was Ramos, she looked to be of East Asian descent with narrow eyes and a small flat nose. I soon learned that it was because she was a third-generation Filipina American, not Latina. If I didn't know better, I would have thought she was a teenage boy by looking at her. But when she spoke, it was with a distinctly grown-up feminine voice that gave me butterflies in my stomach. I was deeply attracted to her, but there could never be anything between us. I was in love with Chad, and I was determined never to cheat on him again.

Still, I needed this girl's help in order to pass this class. And so, two weeks into the semester, I approached her after calculus class. "Hey! Layla, right?"

"Um..., hi."

She was blushing. Was she attracted to me too, or was she just shy? "Okay..., uh..., my name's Melissa. I've seen you in class, and I think I need your help. You see, I'm not good at calculus, and I really need to pass with at least a B, or I won't be eligible for the MBA program once I graduate."

"Uh,..."

"Look, if you want me to pay you, I will. Just tell me what you think is a fair rate, and I can get it from my parents to you."

"No, you don't need to pay me. It's just that..., well..., you don't really strike me as the sort of person who would want to hang out with me. You're pledging to a sorority, right?"

I was wearing a pink t-shirt with Greek letters on them, so it would be silly to deny it. "Yeah."

"And you're obviously White. Are your folks rich?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah. You see, I don't think we can do this. I mean, sure, you're asking for my help now, but once you get your grades up, you'll start thinking you're better than me. That's how it always was in high school, and I don't expect things to change in college."

"Look, I promise you I'm not like that. I mean yeah, we obviously run in different social circles, but I would never pick on you just because you're different. In fact, I ran an anti-bullying campaign when I was in high school, and I lost some friends over that. I promise, I will always treat you with respect. And if I don't, you can tell the dean that I'm cheating off you. Deal?"

"Okay. Where do you want to meet? My dorm room is out because my roommate's always getting high and the place reeks of marijuana smoke."

"My apartment's out as well. My next-door neighbors are the bass player and drummer in a band and they're constantly practicing. But my sorority has a study room. Let's meet there." I gave her directions to the house and headed to my next class.

***********************

Later that evening, Layla and I were in the study room of the sorority house. It was just the two of us there on the sofa together. She was tutoring me on some aspect of calculus that I was having trouble with, and I had finally figured it out (I forget which one. It's been twenty years, give or take, so sue me). We were both thrilled that I got it, so we hugged each other, and she said "Congratulations, Sunflower."

I broke the embrace and she immediately pulled back to the corner of the sofa, blushed and looked at me wide-eyed with embarrassment.

"Did you just call me 'Sunflower?'"

"Well..., um..., yeah. I mean..., you're tall, and blond, and..., um..., so pretty, just like a sunflower." She hid her face in her hands.

"Layla, it's okay." She peeked up from her hands to look at me smiling back at her. "I like that name, actually. You can call me 'Sunflower' anytime."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Now, let's get back to work. I still need to learn this shit to pass."

************************

Over the next few weeks, not only did we study together, but we became close friends. I told her about my family: that my dad had inherited a car dealership here in town from my granddad, and how I hoped to take it over from him once he retired. I also talked about how my mom was an ex-model whose head was stuck in the 1950's, even though she had grown up in the 1970's. And I told her all about Chad and how I had lost my virginity to him, and how we were probably going to get married after we graduate.

And she told me about herself. She was here on an engineering scholarship and wanted to work for NASA. Her mom was a teacher, and her dad was a semi-professional blues guitarist who worked days at an accounting firm, and that she was named for her dad's favorite Derek & the Dominoes song, and that she got mercilessly teased as a kid when Eric Clapton released the Unplugged version as a single. And that she had been unpopular in high school and had never dated anyone yet.

We spent most of our free time together, and I encouraged her to come to the various sorority events with me. She would sometimes come to the parties that the sorority was invited to, but she refused to pledge with us. Still, she was very happy for me after rush week when I was officially invited to join the sorority. And I was so grateful to get out of that awful apartment I had been living in to move into the house.

And every time I was with Layla, I had to fight the urge to kiss her.

********************

Things might have stayed just friendly between me and Layla, if it hadn't been for the e-mail I got from Chad towards the end of September.

Keep in mind that this was still the early 2000's. Phones were still mostly landlines, and high speed and wireless internet were mostly limited to big businesses rather than individuals. For those who had cell phones, texting took forever because you were having to do it from a 12-key pad. And there was almost no video chatting back then. My sorority house had one desktop PC that was shared by all of us on a rotating schedule. We had a dial-up connection, so we were limited to 30 minutes online each because we couldn't access the internet and talk on the phone at the same time.

That's why Chad sent an e-mail, and I didn't see it until 9:00 a.m. two days after he sent it. "Dear Melissa," it read.

"It sucks that I have to do it this way. I wish I could call you, but my long-distance minutes are all used up, and the few times I've tried calling you, you were either out or the line was busy. Actually, I'd rather do this in person. You deserve that.

"I know I gave you a promise ring last summer for your birthday." I saw those words and inadvertently, my hands started playing with the ring on my finger. "And at the time, I had every intention of keeping my promise to you. But I'm only human, and you're nearly two thousand miles away. I've met someone else, and despite trying hard to be just friends, we have fallen in love with each other.

"Please know, I never meant to hurt you and I wish you only the best. You were my first love and will always have a special place in my heart. I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me, move on and find someone else who is better for you than I ever could be.

Love,

Chad"

Is it possible to be relieved and devastated at the same time? What Chad described with this other person sounded an awful lot like what I was going through with Layla. I was desperately attracted to her from the time I first saw her, and now that we were getting close, it was getting hard to keep my feelings in check and stay friendly. But at the same time, I still loved Chad and if he would have showed up at my door that day, I wouldn't have hesitated to jump his bones right then and there.

For the rest of the day, I had this feeling that my world had been turned inside-out. I couldn't concentrate in class, and I spent all my time between classes face-down on my bed with the dry-heaves. And when I was reasonably certain no one could hear me, I would cry.

But--most unfairly--life moved on and didn't seem to care about my trauma. Layla and I had a study session in the afternoon, so I did my best to pull myself together and headed down to the study room. Layla was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and I could tell by her face that she saw how torn up I was. But at that moment, I didn't want to confide in anyone, not even her.

We spent about a half hour going over our calculus assignment, but Layla could tell I wasn't focusing, so she finally said, "Okay, Sunflower. I didn't want to pry, but I need to know what's going on with you."

I had never experienced this sort of compassionate concern combined with a no-bullshit attitude before. This, I think, was the moment I truly fell in love with Layla. It was also the moment I broke down crying for the 12^th time that day.

"It... it's Chad. He... he broke up with me. He found someone else." Layla put her arms around me, and I cried into her oversized t-shirt. "I love him so much, and now he's... he's..."

Layla began stroking my head and said, "Ssshhhhh! Sssshhh! It'll be okay. I know it hurts, but one day, you'll see he isn't the one for you. Trust me, I've had my fair share of heartbreaks, but I got over them."

"You? But..."

"No, I've never dated anyone, but I've had really strong crushes on people who didn't even know I existed, and when I tried to connect with them, they became hostile.

"But you're different, Sunflower. You're beautiful." She moved a strand of hair from out in front of my red, tearful eyes. "You look like you could be a supermodel, and you have the sweetest personality, and you always try to see the best in everyone. I can't understand why anyone wouldn't do everything to keep you. God knows, I would."

And then, without warning, she kissed me. I was about to kiss her back when she tore herself away from me and panicked.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I know you're not gay! I shouldn't have done that. I should probably leave. In fact, I think we should never see each other again!"

"Layla, please don't go." I grabbed her hand as she was backing away.

"But... "

"I wanted you to kiss me. I've wanted it for a long time."

"But you're not gay!"

"I'm bi. I figured that out just before I graduated high school."

"But what about Chad? I thought you said you were in love with him."

"I was. I am. It's just that... that... ever since I first saw you in class, I've been attracted to you. I didn't say anything before, because I didn't want to cheat on Chad again. But now I've lost him, and I couldn't stand it if I lost you, too. Please stay. And kiss me as much as you like. It's not cheating anymore, so there's no reason for us to hold our feelings in."

I pulled her back to me and began passionately kissing her. She was tense and rigid for the first few seconds of our kiss. But then, I guess, she realized that I had been telling her the truth, and she started kissing me back. After a few minutes of kissing, I took her right hand and placed it on top of my left breast. She took the hint and started squeezing and rubbing my breast over my shirt. Eventually, she got brave enough on her own to start playing with my right breast with her left hand.

Just as I reached for the hem of her shirt, she pulled away. "Okay, I think we should stop here. I like you, but we've only just figured out our feelings for each other. I don't feel ready to have sex yet."

"Are you still nervous? Do you think I'm kidding?"

"No. I know you mean it, but a few minutes ago you were crying about someone else. I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of you. Can we maybe go on a few dates before we go past second base? Besides, you know I'm a virgin. What if I'm no good?"

"I'm sure you'll be excellent. But you're right. Let's take it slowly. And I guess now, we have to go back to stupid fucking calculus since I still can't figure out that shit."

***************

And so, we became a couple. We went out on a few low-key dates where I would always pay for dinner, drinks, movie and/or show that we went to together because I had disposable cash and Layla didn't. I generally would wear a short-hemmed sleeveless dress with high heels, while she changed from an oversized t-shirt, baggy jeans and sneakers to an oversized button-down shirt, baggy khakis and work shoes. I would go all-in on hairstyle, make-up and jewelry, and she would put a bunch of gel in her short, straight black hair and comb it back into a pompadour. And at the end of each date, there would be kissing and feeling each other over our clothes, but nothing further because she still didn't feel ready, and I didn't want to pressure her.

This was not easy for us. Neither of us was out to anyone else except each other. And at the time, it made sense to keep it that way. If you were born before 1990, then you probably remember that the first decade of this century was not a good time for the LGBTQ+ community. We had a president who said he believed God had reserved certain "special" rights for heterosexuals (i.e., the right to marry, the right to adopt children and the right to serve openly in the military). And it seemed like every day on Fox News, somebody would compare being gay or bisexual with incest, pedophilia and bestiality. And it wasn't just on the right. A young community organizer from the South side of Chicago named Barack Obama who was running an underdog campaign for US Senator said he couldn't support equal rights for same-sex couples because of his religious beliefs. And Al Sharpton went on CNN and told Anderson Cooper to his face that he was going to Hell for being gay.

What all that meant for us was that when we were in public, we didn't hold hands and we always stayed at least two feet apart from each other whenever possible. It sucked compared to the dates I had with Chad, where we could cuddle and kiss in public and people thought it was cute puppy love. If I tried the same things with Layla anywhere other than a gay bar, we were likely to get harassed. But the sacrifice was worth it for any time we had together.