Disclaimer: The characters in this story are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The following story involves graphic descriptions of sexual encounters. If such things offend you, please read no further. Also, this is the third part of an ongoing story. For this to make more sense, I advise reading "Bed of Roses" parts one and two. I hope you enjoy the story.
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Part 3: Counting Flowers on the Wall
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Rose McGuire was still somewhat amazed by the simple things that captivated her those days. She had been staring at a series of green vines and assorted flowers that had been painted on the wall of her cellar-apartment by the beautiful blonde girl sleeping next to her. It was hard to make out details by the ghostly light emitted by the television and its electric snow. Charlotte had thought it would be a great way of "livening up" the place, and Rose had discovered that there were very few things she would refuse the young woman. She glanced down and softly kissed her lover on the forehead after brushing her hair out of the way. Charlotte was curled up with her head on Rose's chest, snoring lightly. It had only been four months since the young woman who she had known in high school had come looking for her. She and Rose had played high school soccer together until Rose got kicked off the team when it was discovered she was a lesbian. Apparently, the young woman was also gay, and had wanted Rose to be her first "experience." But Rose had switched schools, and Charlotte had lost track of her until a casual sighting of Rose wandering the woods above the college soccer fields. Charlotte had contrived the situation under which the two of them had been reintroduced. Charlotte had discovered that Rose was a tow-truck driver (at that time), and had arranged for her car to have problems where Rose would be the person most likely to be called. They had quickly bonded as friends, and became lovers shortly after that.
While fairy-tale like in many respects, their relationship hadn't been without its problems. After outing herself to her parents, Charlotte had been asked to bring Rose over for a family dinner, which Rose left in tears. Charlotte's mother had been as friendly as a starving hyena. While Rose had received a written apology, it had been empty and everyone involved knew it. Rose got along great with Charlotte's father though. He had helped her get a job at an upscale auto garage and sales lot where she got to restore custom cars. She was earning good money at it and loved her work. She had even put off the idea of opening her own garage for a while. She wasn't in a rush anymore.
Charlotte had come over that evening (she came over most evenings when she wasn't on the road with her college soccer team) and had insisted on doing the painting. She had painted one set of vines in an outline of a human body and had used Rose as her model. She insisted on Rose being nude. That particular session of painting hadn't lasted long before the two were in bed together. They were physically quite different. Rose was definitely the "butch" of the two, though she was still highly feminine. She was muscular and toned with bright red hair that she had traditionally kept in a flowing mohawk. She had let her hair start growing out again and had trimmed down the mohawk, moving towards a more business-acceptable look. Charlotte had medium-length blonde hair with were always kept in pigtails. She had big blue eyes and an angelic face. She had well-rounded curves and warm, smooth skin. She liked cute clothes, whereas Rose went for practical denim or tight leather. In high school, Rose had been seen as the "discontent" or "troublemaker," while Charlotte had been the "good girl" and the "all-American sweetheart." Well, the sweetheart belonged to the troublemaker, and she wasn't always a good girl. They had made love several times that day, causing the painting to go slowly. And with each vine and flower Rose looked at, a moment of that day flitted across her memory.
"You should be sleeping," came a voice from beneath a mop of blonde hair. "You have to work tomorrow."
"I thought you WERE asleep," responded Rose.
"Your breathing isn't as smooth when you're awake. Make's it harder for me to sleep. If you couldn't sleep, you should have woken me up. We could have talked . . ." said Charlotte, holding Rose closer, " . . . or snuggled."
"Snuggling leads to other things sweetie, and you have class in the morning." But Rose's heart wasn't in her argument. When Charlotte had started stirring, the sheet got pulled back and her beautiful, large breasts came into view.
"Class doesn't start until 9:30, and I'm fairly close to campus already. And since I'm awake now, I need you to tire me out." She started kissing Rose's neck.
"Goodness girl, do you ever think about anything else?" Moan.
"Yes, but I've been trying to cut back." Her lips made their way up Rose's chins until they in were in place for a long, slow kiss. "C'mon, just a quickie? I promise I'll be good after that."
"Don't you dare," responded Rose as she grabbed the warm flesh of one of Charlotte's breasts.
"I thought you'd see things my way." Her hand drifted down to Rose's sex garden and a finger slipped between the two lips. She just let it work its way back and forth as Rose's mound started swelling and her moisture level increased. Then she brought a second finger into the picture, fucking Rose with her miniature cock. Rose had no choice but to reciprocate, and soon they were just lying next to each other and humping on another's hand while kissing each other's faces, necks and lips.
It was one of those rare situations where they felt no need to break into Rose's bag of sex toys. They weren't rushing anything. They simply loved the feeling of being with each other and in each other, even in that small way. The tempo of their respective fingerings increased, as did their kissing rate. It only took five minutes before they brought each other to simultaneous orgasm. They were both so spent from the days activities that they didn't have much left, but they enjoyed the sensation just the same. The were pressed tightly together, almost as if wanted to share their pleasure with their partner and wishing some of it could be transferred through their skin.
"Now go to sleep," said Charlotte, placing her head back on Rose's chest.
"Whatever you say," whispered Rose. And finally sleep took them both.
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As is the case in many peoples lives, things got complicated at the very moment they seemed to be perfect. Such was the case in Rose's life. When she got home from work the next day, there was a sheriff's car in her driveway. She recognized Deputy Smith right away. He was a good cop who checked in periodically to make sure she was okay. Initially it was because he had hoped to get her into bed, but he had quickly transitioned into the role of ‘friend' when he found out she was gay. He was one of her only friends, besides Charlotte, who wasn't involved in the automotive industry.
"What's up?" she asked, noting the somber look on his face.
"I've got some bad news, Rose."
Panic flooded her mind. She was afraid something had happened to Charlotte.
