The Glamorous Passenger Ch. 03

"Oh,... Oh, Sunflower! Oh, yeah..., yeah..., yeah..., YYYEEEEAAAHHH!!!!!"

She stiffened and I realized I had made her come just by playing with her nipples. She grabbed my head and pulled me in for a kiss.

"Oh, my God, Sunflower! I never knew I could feel like this without playing with my clit! I'll remember this the next time I have to jill off!" We kissed again for several seconds before she broke away and asked, "Can you..., uh..., please go down..., down there?"

"Down where, Layla?"

"Dammit, Sunflower! To my..., to my..."

"Your what, Layla?"

"Quit teasing me, goddammit! To my pussy! My pussy's all wet and needs to be taken care of! Please, Sunflower! Please do what you want with my pussy!"

I slowly kissed my way down her stomach, down to her underwear, which I gently pulled downward. As I expected after seeing her armpits, her bush was also hairy and completely untrimmed, and her pubes were soaking wet with her juices. I put my tongue on her clit and she reacted as if she had received an electric jolt. It only took a few licks and a tiny suck before she had her second orgasm of the night.

I kissed and sucked my way back up her body until I was at her lips again. "Do you want to taste yourself on my mouth?" She nodded her head and we started kissing again with tongues. "You know what? I think it's my turn to come now. Do you think you're up for it?" She nodded again. "I need to hear you say it, Layla. Do you want to make me come?"

"Y...y... yes, Sunflower. I want to make you feel the same way you made me feel."

"Okay, then."

"But you know this is my first time. I'm not sure what to do."

"Just do whatever you feel comfortable with, and I'll let you know what feels good. But let's start with you trying to repeat what I did to you."

She kissed my lips and worked down my jaw to my neck. After a few licks and sucks (which left me with a massive hickey that I found the next morning), she made her way down to my breasts. As I had done a few minutes ago, she licked my left nipple while playing with my right with her fingers for about thirty seconds before trading off and licking my right nipple and squeezing my left. Once both nipples were rock hard, she looked up and asked, "Should I go lower now?"

I was too aroused to speak, so I just nodded at her. She took the hint and started slowly making her way down my stomach to my panties. She was still a little nervous, so I said to her between gasps, "Take 'em off!" Maybe it was nerves or maybe it was the tone of my voice, or maybe it was a little bit of both, but she yanked my panties down as if she was scared that I would hurt her if she didn't obey me. Even after 20 years, this is still the most BDSM experience of my life.

She gently started stroking my clit. Her touch felt heavenly, but as I got more aroused, I wanted more.

"Layla, honey?"

"Yes, Sunflower?"

"Can you please put your tongue in my pussy?"

"Oh..., okay."

She lowered her face between my legs and took a few tentative licks. I guess she must have liked what she tasted because she quickly mashed her face into my vagina and stuck her tongue as far as it would go down my pussy hole.

After a few minutes of this, I was on the edge, and I needed to come soon, so I said "Fingers!"

Layla pulled her face out of my crotch and said "What?"

"Fingers! I need your fingers in my cunt! I want to come!"

Layla stuck two fingers into my pussy and started gently stroking, but that wasn't enough for me.

"Three fingers! And faster!"

She readily obeyed. Instead of gentle strokes, her three fingers were quickly rubbing in and out of me, causing a great deal of friction on my G-spot. After about a minute of this I came hard and squirted for the first (but not last) time in my life.

I was panting hard after that orgasm, so I really couldn't do much, but I could see that Layla was still horny. So, I asked her to sit on my face, which she did. I licked and sucked her sweet pussy until she came for a third time that night, which wore her out.

We lay in sweet silence in each other's arms for I guess around ten minutes before she said, "I'm really sorry. I want to stay here tonight, but I have to go back to my dorm and pack."

"Okay. You know where the bathroom is."

After about 10 minutes, she came out of the shower and put her clothes back on.

"Layla, can you give me your parents' number in case I want to call you?"

"Of course." She found a pen and paper and wrote it down.

"I'd give you my parents' number, but since they don't approve of us being together, I don't think they'd take kindly to a call from you. I'm sorry, Layla."

"That's okay. I love you, Sunflower."

"I love you too, Layla."

We kissed one more time and she left.

To this day, I'm grateful that those were the last things we ever said to each other. But I still wish that either one or both of us had cell phones back then so we could have talked to each other at least once more.

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

Over the holidays, Kelly and I stayed together at my parents' house along with her parents and my grandparents. My grandparents were extra-conservative and old-fashioned, so nobody mentioned my relationship with Layla, which just made me miss her more. A few times, I would try to sneak a phone call in to Layla, with Kelly standing guard, but each time I called, either the line was busy, or she was out.

Eventually, it was time to go back to school, so Kelly and I headed our way back to the sorority house together. As we pulled into the parking lot, we noticed a black BMW wrapped around a light pole next to the house and a bunch of police cars and ambulances around. Kelly recognized the BMW as belonging to a member of the frat two doors down from our house. I can't say I knew the guy, but I knew who he was. And so, I recognized him as he was being cuffed by the police while one of the ambulances was being loaded with a gurney with something on top of it covered by a sheet. I remember being shocked and hoping that wasn't a dead body.

I got in the house and saw the phone was free, and the first thing in my mind was to call Layla's dorm room to see if she'd like to spend some time together. But just like the holidays, each time I called I got a busy signal. Dammit, I'd gone the whole break not talking to her. I needed to speak to her at least once before I went to bed, so I decided to walk over to her dorm and see her in person.

When I got there, Layla was nowhere in sight, but her roommate MaryJo was on the phone, and it didn't look like she was enjoying the conversation. Typically, when I had come to Layla's dorm, MaryJo was either drunk or high. But right now, she looked stone-cold sober and with tears in her eyes.

"Melissa!" *sniff* "I... I was just about to call you. The..., the police just called me 'cause they have this phone listed as L... Layla's..." She couldn't finish and started crying again.

I was incredibly concerned and confused by this. "What's going on?"

"L... L... Layla's dead. Sh... she told me she wanted to meet you when you got home, so she... she went to your place and... and... just before she got there..."

"Just before she got there, Lawrence ran her over with his fucking Beemer. I saw the chaos outside the house when I got there, but I never thought... I never thought..." It was just now starting to hit me. Layla was gone. I wouldn't get to talk to her again tonight or ever. Suddenly, just as it had when Chad had broken up with me, my world turned inside out. Only this time it was more intense. At least back then, I could bottle up my tears until I was alone. Now I was crying even more uncontrollably than MaryJo. And at least when Chad broke my heart, Layla was there to put it back together again. Now, it was completely shattered and there was nothing anyone could do to fix it.

I ran back to the sorority house and told Kelly everything. She gave me a big sisterly hug and walked with me to my room as I was sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn't think straight, so it was Kelly who had the idea that I should call Layla's parents. I dialed and let the phone ring three times before someone picked up and a male voice said "Hello? Who's calling?"

"M... Mr. Ramos?"

"Yes?"

"M... my name is Melissa Carroll. You don't know me, but I'm Layla's girlfriend. Have... have the police called you yet?"

"Oh my God, Melissa! Yes, Layla wouldn't shut up about you! We just got a call about ten minutes ago. My wife is in bed crying. Layla was our only child. We never... we never thought we'd lose her."

"I... I'd like to come pay my respects and... and say goodbye one last tiiiiiiime!" My voice went up to its highest octave and I started bawling again so hard that I couldn't continue talking. Kelly took the phone from me and gave Mr. Ramos my contact information so he could call or e-mail me with the funeral arrangements.

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

A few days later, I was at a funeral home in a blue-collar neighborhood of a big city about two hours' drive from the college. Kelly and Cameron along with much of the school LBGT club had come with me to show me support.

Two short, middle-aged Filipinos--a man and a woman--who I correctly guessed to be Layla's parents approached me and gave me a big hug.

"You must be Melissa! You look exactly like how Layla described you."

"Th... thank you, Mr. Cortez."

"Please. My name is Ernesto, but I'd prefer it if you called me 'Ernie.' Like Ernie Isley." I know who that is now, but at the time, I didn't get the reference. "And this is my wife, Lucila."

"I'm glad to meet you both. I just wish it were under different circumstances. Can I... uh... can I see where Layla is?"

"She's in front right by the podium."

Surprisingly, despite her injuries, Layla was in an open casket. They had dressed her in a pink dress with puffy short sleeves, put a bunch of makeup on her and somehow managed to put her short hair into two tiny ponytails. She looked like a little girl dressed for Sunday School. Although I had only known her for a semester, I already could tell she would have hated this. I stormed back to Layla's parents. Ernie was shamefaced and said, "I know, but neither Lucila or I could face arranging this funeral, so her grandmother took over. She was always trying to get Layla to be more feminine and doesn't accept that Layla was gay. Neither do any of the rest of her family. Please don't say anything."

At the service, one uncle, aunt, grandparent and cousin after another got up to fret about Layla not living to grow out of her ugly duckling stage and having men compete for her, about how she would never find a good husband, and how she would never get to bear lots and lots of cute little babies. After the fourth or fifth variation of this, I looked towards Kelly and remembered what she had said about our uncle Bruce's funeral--that everyone was either too prejudiced or too chickenshit to acknowledge that he was gay. I wasn't about to let Layla's memory be tarnished in the same way.

As the preacher came back to the podium to close the service, I approached him and said, "I'd like to say a few words if I may."

"Of course, my child."

"Hello, everybody. My name is Melissa Carroll, and I was Layla's girlfriend. We dated for three months, and we made love for the first and only time two weeks ago."

There were smiles from Layla's parents and from our friends from the LGBT club. And Kelly gave me a big toothy grin and a thumbs-up. But from Layla's extended family, there were a bunch of whispers and cruel looks. I carried on.

"I can't claim that I knew her for as long as some of the other people who got up to speak earlier, but I can say that I knew her better. First, she was not an ugly duckling, like some of the people here have said. She was the most beautiful person I have ever known. Second, she was gay. It wasn't a choice, and it couldn't be changed. And even if it could, I don't think she'd want to. The girl they described--the girl who would have gotten married to a perfect husband and had a bunch of kids--is not the woman I knew, and certainly not the woman I fell in love with. She wouldn't have gotten married because it's not legal for one woman to marry another." (Remember that this was 20 years ago or so). "If she ever had kids, she would either adopt or have her partner carry the baby to term. And she certainly would have never consented to be dressed like this," I gestured toward the open casket with the body in baby-doll clothes, "at her own funeral."

An old lady who I assumed was Layla's grandmother got indignant and was about to get up, but Ernie took her hand and guided her back into her seat.

"Layla could be shy and timid. But she was so smart. And so giving. She loved me like I've never been loved by anyone before. And I don't know if I'll ever be loved like that again." I was crying now. I turned to look at the casket. "Layla, someday I may find someone else to be with, but they'll have to share my heart with you and your memory. No matter who my partners may be in the future, I'll always be your Sunflower."

I ran to Layla's parents, and they embraced me. Eventually so did Kelly, Cameron and a few members of the LGBT club and even some members of Layla's family, mostly younger cousins. Lucila spoke up, and it was the first time I ever heard her voice. "Thank you so much for being brave. I know Ernie said not to say anything, but we needed someone to speak about the real Layla."

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

There's not much more to tell. I stayed in contact with Ernie and Lucila from then until now. Prior to knowing them, the only music I listened to much was top 40 and my parents' classical music. Ernie taught me all about blues, rock & roll, jazz and classic R&B. He even taught me how to play the guitar. To this day, I still consider Ernie and Lucinda my family.

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

I know that some of you may be wondering about Chad, my first love.

About ten years after Layla's death, I was in New York for a conference of LGBT+ business executives, and I was surprised to see him there holding hands with another man. We said our hellos and chatted a bit. The guy he was with was Brandon, his partner in a high-end accounting firm. This was also the person he had left me for.

We confirmed with each other that we were both bisexual, that neither of us was using the other as a beard, and that what we had was real but couldn't survive the distance. I told him about having been seduced by Reagan and of course everything about Layla. He laughed about Reagan and told me that he had gone to our ten-year high school reunion with Brandon, and that Reagan--who had a husband and two kids now--verbally assaulted him, asking why he had to be in everyone's face with his lifestyle choice. After the party wound down, he and Brandon went to a nearby gay bar to unwind and spotted Reagan making out with a girl who looked like maybe she was a stripper or something. We both laughed and we are now good friends and follow each other on social media.

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

It took me nearly a year after Layla's death before I was ready to date again. As it happened, my next partner was a guy, which nearly got me kicked out of the LGBT club. I had to remind some of the more strident voices that there is a "B" in there for a reason. And the next several long-term partners were men, although I did have a few hook-ups with women in between relationships. But when I say "long-term," that's relative. Very few of them lasted longer than a couple of months. The longest was with Craig, my ex-husband. And even then, it was just over four years between our first date and the divorce being finalized.

For a long time, I thought that maybe my mother was right that I romanticized my relationship with Layla and that if she hadn't died so soon, she would be just another ex. That's why I settled so many times over the next several years. But my heart knew different. I think if she hadn't died, our relationship would have gone the distance. We would have married once it was legal, and probably adopted a bunch of kids. And that idea made me sad up until very recently.

Now I can see that everything happened for a reason. If Layla and I were together, I would never have gone out with Craig and my sweet angel Angelina would have never been born. And even if Layla had lived and broken up with me, we would probably have stayed friends and she would have been able to convince me not to marry Craig. But if I hadn't married Craig and he hadn't been an abusive psycho in the last few weeks of our marriage, I would have never had the opportunity to see the qualities that made me fall for my lovely wife Kay. (Oops! Spoiler alert! LOL!)

To be continued.

Author's note: Future chapters will be set in the present, will be narrated by Kay and will be much shorter. Hopefully, this means that there will be less of a wait between chapters.