She Loves You?
Title: She Loves You? PART 6
Author: macca44552
Pairing: J/P, G/OC, P/OC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A naive fan, thinking that she is going to win the heart of Paul McCartney, walks into something quite odd...
A/N: There’s some stuff about religion in this one. It is just fiction. It doesn’t reflect my personal views. For the most part, everything is historically accurate. I plan to keep it that way, unless I find the need to make changes.
Disclaimer: Everything you heard is a lie: I don’t own The Beatles.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Puffy white clouds possessed my vision as I was reduced to nothing more or less than staring out the airplane window. I wished I could throw John and Paul out the window; perhaps the magic in the clouds would purify them. If not, I would have a fifty-foot pillow waiting for Paul when he landed, and fifty-foot spikes waiting for John.
My insides floated upwards and my ears popped at the familiar feeling of the plane landing. Once plane met pavement, everyone stood and pushed to get out into the fresh air. I looked over at John and saw him pushing towards Eppy. When he reached his manager, John put his hand on his back and whispered into the older man’s ear. Judging by the level of caution John was using, I could only assume that he had just made an apology.
Eppy nodded and gave John a small smile. There was something odd behind the way Eppy looked at John. I shrugged it off and exited the plane.
* * *
They played one show in Georgia and then we were shoved back on a plane to go to Texas. I was quite irritated with this schedule! I haven’t been able to get ready properly in three days! I am NOT used to this.
Nothing much happened during the flight. John and George talked about guitars while Paul and Ringo were fast asleep. I also noticed that John and George both took a couple of small pills. Maybe it was their mental medication.
When the plane began to land, the roar of the engine wasn’t the only thing sounding through the morning: screams. I looked out the window and saw thousands of fans racing towards the plane. I got nervous. What happens now? Are we just going to land? Are we going to have to turn around? Where the fuck are the police?
“Bloody fucking hell!” John exclaimed. George shook his head.
“I don’t understand why they’re doing this! Have they fucking gone mental?!” he shouted angrily.
“What’s going on?” Paul asked groggily.
“Good morning beautiful! What would you like for breakfast, three thousand crazed birds, or more time on this lovely contraption?” John asked.
Confused, Paul looked out the window and his mouth dropped. The plane was steadily getting closer to a massive crowd of fans and very few security officials.
“I’ll take the second one if it comes with bacon,” Ringo said as he rubbed his eyes awake.
Eppy drifted through the group to address “his boys”.
“Okay. I want everybody to stay on this plane until furth-”
The plane landed. In fact, it hadn’t finished rolling before girls were jumping on the plane; doing whatever they could to get a glimpse of The Beatles, even if it risked their own lives. I always said that I would do anything to see The Beatles, but I could never picture myself going THAT far. All those fucking girls need intensive therapy. They were climbing the wings of the plane, crudely banging on the windows, and screaming at the top of their lungs. I few of them took their shirts off and I cringed at their not-so-developed tits.
“What the fuck?!”
George started pacing and swearing angrily, trying his best not to make eye contact with any of the girls. Paul gave a few of the girls feeble smiles (they swooned), but he couldn’t hide his nervousness. Ringo sat in the aisle to move away from them, and John covered his ears with an annoyed expression that matched George’s.
“Brian, do you want Mal and I to go out there?” Neil questioned. Brian let out an annoyed sigh.
“No. The Houston police should be taking care of this, not you two! This is unacceptable! We are never playing this venue again!!”
Brian loudly marched away. Mal and Neil sat around in the aisle with Ringo.
Bang! At my window!
I turned my head and saw a young girl with short, red hair yelling at me and knocking on the window. Her voice wasn’t really distinguishable among the crowd, but I was highly trained in lip reading. All those years of spying on my brother paid off.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?!! ARE YOU RINGO’S GIRL? DON’T TAKE HIM, HE’S MINE!!!”
I rolled my eyes and gave her the middle finger before joining Mal, Neil, and Ringo in the aisle.
“I need a ciggie!” George declared.
They passed cigarettes around and started puffing away nervously. George continued pacing and, after awhile, it started to get on my nerves.
“George! Could you please just sit down!?”
He gave me a deadly glare, and, without conscious thought, he touched his eyebrows. So, he remembers the eyebrow comment. Damn it! I didn’t mean to take my anger out on him; I just wanted a little fucking sympathy!
“Sod off! I don’t ‘ave to listen to you!” he yelled.
“Shouldn’t you be one of those psychotic birds pounding on the fucking glass and treating us like caged animals?!!” John interjected.
I took in a deep breath. I was not in the mood to battle it out with John! I just wanted to make things right between George and me. I needed him on my side. If I had him, maybe we could take out John!
“Look, I’m sorry,” I said to George. He stiffened.
“About what?” he asked suspiciously.
I looked around. Was it okay to mention it in front of everybody?
“About the thing I said about your eyebrows! I didn’t mean it! I was just mad because I didn’t finish my shower.”
George’s face turned beat-red. John broke out into laughter.
“What? Did ye tell him that they look like two pregnant caterpillars?!”
I guess not.
The girls climbing on the plane screamed when they saw John laughing. George clenched his teeth and stared at me through narrow eyes. Okay, so that was not the reaction I was hoping for.
“It’s alright, George. They always make fun of me nose,” Ringo interjected and stared poking his nose as if it were some foreign object.
“George! I mean it! I actually like your eyebrows,” I lied.
At that, John and Ringo started laughing. Paul was far too paranoid about the girls to pay attention to our conversation.
“Hear that mate! I think she wants to shag ya!” John declared.
George took a long drag from his cigarette before saying, “I would never fuck that!”
As an act of defiance he started pacing even faster. That boy sure can hold a grudge! Fuck him! It would be easier to get Ringo on my side anyway.
“Well, who would want to fuck you? If your legs are THAT skinny, then I don’t even want to know the width of your dick!” I stabbed.
John laughed while giving me a look of, I think, admiration. Ringo stared between George and me while the former stopped pacing and looked at me as if I had the significance of a mere fly.
“Are any of you wankers concerned by the fact that these birds have ciggies in their hands?!” Paul said frantically.
Everything became tense with fear as we looked out the window and saw many screaming girls with lit cigarettes.
“What the bloody hell are we gonna do if the plane catches fire?!” Ringo panicked.
Eppy came stumbling towards us. The plane started rocking violently and everyone sat down to avoid falling over.
“The police should be here at any moment to dispel the chaos!” he announced.
“I don’t fucking understand this! We’re just lads, you know?! I fucking hate this suffocating fan-worship shit,” George said quietly.
“We’ve got money, music, and looks. That’s all those birds really want,” Paul replied.
“I wish I could meet a normal fan, you know. One that doesn’t bury me in fan mail, cut off me hair, steal my clothes, or throw jelly babies at me,” Ringo mused.
“I feel sorry for you guys,” I started. They all looked up at me. I stared at them with nothing but sincerity in my eyes. “You can’t really live normal lives, can you?”
They nodded. Since this adventure, I’ve started to see The Beatles as people (very rude people), but not NORMAL people. At that moment, I saw The Beatles as normal people, imprisoned by their fame.
“Well, at least Mal and I get yer rejected birds!” Neil joked.
Everyone laughed.
“We shouldn’t be complaining though! We get to do things that not a lot of other blokes can do! Being The Beatles is great, just not this part,” Paul said as he pointed at the girls being hauled off the plane by the Houston police. Everyone nodded. Eventually, the fans were kept at bay and we were all free to exit the plane. We drove to and from the show in an armored van, and John was doing Hitler impressions the entire time.
* * *
We arrived in Chicago at three in the morning. I was excited to learn that we were headed to the O’Hare Sahara Hotel; I hadn’t taken a proper shower since the…incident, and my skin was unbearably oily.
Our car was driving towards the hotel when, suddenly, I spotted a huge throng of people. Screaming. This is not good.
“How far away are we frum the hotel?” Paul asked.
“About two miles,” Mal responded with an exasperated sigh.
The Beatles groaned and I slammed my head against the window. If this gigantic group of lunatics decide to stay here all night, there’s no way that I’ll be able to get any sleep!
That’s exactly what happened.
After arriving in the hotel room with a ripped shirt and stolen bracelet, I took an uninterrupted shower. It felt so good to be clean. However, it did not feel good listening to all the hysterical fans outside. They were so loud that I thought I was standing right in front of them. Why the fuck do these guys have to be so desirable?!
I exited the bathroom with nothing on but a fluffy bathrobe, and my eyes met The Beatles and Brian Epstein. John and Paul were showered which led me to believe that they went in together. Images of John pushing Paul up against the shower wall and taking his lips in a demanding kiss entered my mind. Damn it! Why was I having these thoughts!?
“A radio station announced that you would be staying here, hence the thousands of fans outside the building,” Eppy said.
“Yeah but the fans don’t usually stay outside the hotel for the entire night! It’s already four thirty in the morning! Don’t they have lives?” Paul asked.
“We are in Chicago,” Ringo offered.
“Look, the police are doing all they can! Just try to get some sleep! We leave at nine!” Eppy ordered as he walked out of our suite.
“Well I’m taking a shower!” Ringo announced.
“Me too!” George said as he got up from the couch.
They walked off in opposite directions to snag a rinse, and I was left alone with John and Paul. It was very awkward, especially since they chose that moment to make out. I swiftly made my way over to my room.
‘You’re soft in the head if you think yer gonna be able to sleep,” Paul spoke. I turned around slowly. He was right.
“What do you suggest?” I asked.
John smiled and went over to his suitcase. He started rifling through it, and I became flooded with apprehension. What exactly was he going to pull out?
“Aha!” John declared as he held a bag of pot over his head. Inside the bag was some paper. I swallowed. I had never tried pot before, partly because I was always so nervous that I would get caught, and also because I didn’t want to become obsessed with it like my friend Lenny.
John and Paul sat on the floor and pointed to a spot where I assumed they wanted me to sit. I obeyed. I wasn’t going to be a wimp about it! I’ll have one hit, that’s all! It’s not so bad! Besides, who could possibly catch me?
Professional hands grabbed some pot and rolled it in the little paper. Paul was so excited that I thought he was going to piss himself. John, with the lit the joint in-between his thumb and forefinger, took a long drag. Smoke escaped from his nose and mouth as he closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation.
He passed it to Paul.
The cute Beatle’s nostrils flared as he took his drag. It was hypnotizing watching his pink lips suck on the joint.
He passed it to me.
I took it cautiously and stared at it like it was some sort of disgusting bug.
“Hurry up! I want another hit!” John said impatiently.
“Hush up! Just do what we did,” Paul soothed.
Meeting bravery, I put the joint up to my lips and prepared to fill my lungs with smoke…
They’re gonna put me in the movies! They’re gonna make a big star outta me!
“Is that Ringo?!” I asked, glad for the distraction.
“Yeah, he sings in the shower and George gets off. Now hurry up!” John said with exasperation.
I brought it up to my face, opened my mouth, put my lips around it, and felt the uncomfortable sensation of fire spreading through my innards.
Embarrassed, I pulled it out of my mouth and started coughing. How is this enjoyable again?
“Bloody hell! Have you never smoked before?” John questioned. I shook my head.
“I’ve tried cigarettes before, but I ended up choking, so I stopped.”
“You’ve just gotta try again. It’ll get better,” Paul said.
Well I bet you I’m gonna be a big star!
I took another puff and started coughing once again. Another puff followed and I felt a strange sensation along with minimal coughing. Two more puffs and a drag later, I was cough-free.
All I’ve got to do is act naturally!
“We popped the virgin, Paulie!” John said as he grabbed the joint from my hand and took a greedy hit.
“Pass it over!” Paul demanded.
We sat like that for a while, just passing the joint around in silence. When it was almost finished, Ringo emerged from the bathroom wearing only blue pajama bottoms plastered with ducks. Everyone giggled.
“Nice jams, Ringo! Are those ducks yer only friends?” Paul asked with a giggle. Ringo rolled his eyes.
“I see you’ve started the fun without me! Give me one!” he said.
“Okay.”
John took the last hit and rolled it in the ashtray. Ringo sat down in our little circle and Paul made him a joint. He took it gratefully and inhaled deeply.
“Whoa! Look at all the smoke coming out of his nose!” Paul said as he pointed. John started rolling around on the rug.
“What is he doing?” I asked.
“He’s becoming electrically charged,” the bassist joked.
“He does that when he’s high,” Ringo finished.
John rolled towards his big nosed friend and took the joint.
“Hey! How am I ‘posed to get as high as you if yer gonna steal it from me!?”
John shrugged and laughed as he sucked from the marijuana cigarette.
“That’s not fair! Give it ta Rings!” Paul said as he took the joint from John’s mouth and kept it for himself.
“Thanks, Paul,” Ringo said sarcastically. He crawled over to the cute Beatle and took the cigarette.
I rolled on the floor and started a violent fit of giggles.
“What’s all this about?!” George demanded as he walked out of the bathroom with only a white towel slung around his slender hips. I stopped giggling and stared at him with my mouth open. Luckily, he didn’t notice because he was too preoccupied with sitting down and taking the joint from Ringo.
“So how was the wank?” John asked. Paul giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Didn’t happen. Did you think I would be able to get off with all those screaming fans outside?”
I giggled when Ringo tried and failed to wrestle the joint out of George’s hand. Finally, he gave up and just made one for himself.
It was a strange feeling, being high. For one, everything around me was soo fucking funny! Also, I relaxed considerably and actually appreciated John Lennon’s sense of humor. The higher I got, the more curious I became regarding John and Paul’s relationship. I didn’t say anything though, the pot made me unusually quiet.
A bit of time passed by and I felt another side affect of the joint…I was damn hungry!
“I’m fuckin’ starved!” Ringo shouted to the ceiling. I giggled.
“Me too Rings, Paul order us some food!” George demanded.
“I’m not ordering room service, what if the fans have infiltrated the room service people,” he responded with a voice decorated in paranoia.
“In that case, none of us should order room service,” John figured as he looked at me.
I giggled.
“ME! You want me to order room service?”
“Could you?” John said impatiently.
I rolled my eyes and walked over to the phone. I was too high and hungry to be stubborn. I dialed room service.
“Hello?” came a man’s voice.
“Howdy!’ I responded. The Beatles burst into laughter.
“Um…howdy. Can I help you with anything, miss?”
“I neeed fooood!” I whined.
“Yes, what would you like? Do you want our breakfast special?”
“Breakfast?” I squealed.
“It is almost seven in the morning, miss,” he said with a hint of annoyance.
“Oh. Yeah, we’ll have that.”
“Room number?”
“Uh...” I put my hand the receiver.
“What room number is this?” I whispered.
Ringo got up and went outside to look at the room number.
“201,” he said as he closed the door.
“201,” I repeated into the receiver.
“It’ll be twenty minutes,” the man said as he hung up.
I hung up the phone and went over to my place on the floor. Paul had his tongue on John’s neck and the latter was ripping the belt off his mate’s pants. I laid down and stared, my curiosity overcoming me.
I watched intently as John took out Paul’s dripping cock. Holy fuck was it big! I licked my lips as John brought his mouth to the tip and sucked. I felt myself grow wet underneath my bathrobe. I was high, so I didn’t care.
In one quick motion, John engulfed his penis and sucked harshly. Paul threw his head back and moaned wantonly. I bit my lip.
I looked at the other two Beatles. Ringo turned around and was giggling while throwing a rubber ball against the wall, either ignoring or completely ignorant to the current queer display. George Harrison, on the other hand, was staring at me intently. There was an odd sort of fire behind his eyes. A challenge? I was up for a challenge!
I sat up and stared into his eyes, determined to win this staring contest. It was a little difficult because of the noises that Paul was making, but I focused all my attention on the quiet Beatle. After a few seconds, George stood up, eyes still on mine, and walked over to me. He lowered his body and sat down. I was overwhelmingly aware that he had only a towel on. Our faces were inches apart, and, once again, George Harrison managed to unnerve me. I didn’t let it show. I was not going to lose this contest.
George puckered his lips and gently blew in my face. I could smell the joint in his breath. I shuddered uncontrollably and my gaze faltered. He smiled out his victory before standing up and moving back to his spot. I stared after him angrily.
“AH AH AH AH GRRRRR!”
Paul finished. He was sweaty and John was doing his best to lick all the perspiration off his partner’s body.
I laid down on the floor. The food came ten minutes later and everyone was shoveling it into their mouths with greedy handfuls. Once all the food was gone, I decided to try and get some sleep. I managed to drown out the screaming girls outside and entered dreamland forty-five minutes before we were scheduled to leave. Great.
To be continued….
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