She Loves You?
Title: She Loves You? PART 10
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 6
PART 2 PART 7
PART 3 PART 8
PART 4 PART 9
PART 5
**I originally said that this story would have 12 parts. Well, it’s going to have more. I don’t know exactly how many parts it will have, but there will be no more than 20.
I woke up to the hot sun beating down on my face. The clouds seemed to be lurking about somewhere else, because the sky was clear and bright. I smiled, already in a good mood. Stretching my limbs, I walked into the bathroom across the hall and looked in the mirror. Fuck! Even though I was in a good mood, I still looked like shit. My eyes were puffy from the night before and my hair was a tangled web.
“Wow. I need a shower,” I said to myself as I looked at my armpit stains.
Well, it could be worse, I could have my period.
I turned around and looked in the closet for a towel. A smug look etched itself on my face. I dragged my hands across my slender form.
“I bet I could fit in there!”
I ducked into the closet, and, not to my surprise, I fit quite nicely. I looked around for a towel, and just as my hand grasped one, I heard footsteps and voices coming towards the bathroom. Not knowing what else to do, and wanting to avoid all Beatles except for Ringo until I came up with a plan to reconcile with them, I closed the closet door.
“I don’t understand why yer letting it get this far!” Paul’s voice rang from inside the bathroom.
“Look, Paul, she’s just different you know?” John said, sounding much calmer than he had the night before.
“How?”
“Cause, Paul! She’s a bird I could see you really getting into, you know. And not just fer a shag!” John said with exasperation.
“What are you talking abo-”
“She’s like me, Macca! She’s like the fucking female version of me!” John proclaimed.
It was silent for a few seconds before Paul’s laughter filled the room.
“Have you gone mad?! She looks nothing like you!” he commented thorough a hearty laugh.
“I’m not talking about appearance-wise, ya sod! I’m talking about the way she acts!”
More laughter.
“Still, I repeat, have you gone mad?”
“Aw, come off it, Macca! She’s just like me!! She’s got a sharp tongue, you know! And she knows the right place to poke when she wants to see her opponent go mad! She’s witty! She’s got a killer pride! She’s fucking John Lennon with a pair of tits and a vagina!” John explained. After banishing my mind of the disgusting imagery of John with breasts, I hung on his words. Am I really like him? Is that why we can’t get along, because our personalities are too similar?
A sigh.
“I’ll give you that she’s intelligent and quick with the insults, but other than that John, she’s not like you. She’s posh and selfish!” Paul tried.
“I’ve been known to be selfish on occasion,” he responded in a monotone.
“Okay, well I can think of a thousand ways you two are different, but you won’t listen, so what’s the point!?” Paul asked.
“There is none. You might as well leave me alone, then.”
I heard footsteps leaving the bathroom, and the sound of a sink running. I let out a small breath. I’m not like John Lennon. I’m not nearly as vindictive as he is! How can he even think that I’m like him anyway!? He doesn’t even know me!
Or does he?
Someone entered the bathroom. The sink stopped.
“John, the other day on the plane…” Paul’s voice trailed off.
“Spit it out, McCartney. Haven’t got all day.” John said impatiently.
“The other day on the plane…with the fire….you know…I would’ve…uh…jumped with ya. If you did,” he said in a little voice. I gulped.
Silence.
“Uh, you know, because we’re mates and we do everything together. And I sure as hell wasn’t gonna get burned to death while you were peacefully floating through the bloody air!” Paul finished. A chuckle filled the room.
“I thought you were going soft on me for a minute there,” John said gently. For a brief moment, I thought I heard a tremor in his otherwise smooth voice.
“Could say the same about you,” Paul responded.
“A bit,” John whispered before kissing noises painted the air. My eyes fell shut. Wow.
“Okay, can we skip the romantic parts and just get right to the shag? I’ve been wankin’ like crazy without ya, mate!” John declared with a growl.
“As long as you promise to believe me when I tell ya that it’s you, not her.”
“Mmmhmmm. Paulie, are those my briefs?!”
Not another word was exchanged before the shower was turned on and the two Beatles stepped inside to carry on with their makeup sex. I quietly opened the door and ducked out of the bathroom.
They’re making love, Kara. Not having sex.
I slumped against the wall and ran my hands through my hair. How could I be so stupid? It’s not about sex with them! They actually have strong feelings for each other! They’re probably in love but too stupid to admit it!
A thought crossed my mind.
Why would they admit it? Not only are they going against God, but they’re constantly being judged by His followers.
But they’re in love! Paul would’ve jumped off the fucking plane for John! Should it really matter what kind of sins they commit? Shouldn’t love be beautiful in all forms, queer or not?
I held my cross for guidance, but received none. I was torn between love and religion. But was that even right? Should I really have to choose between religion and love? My mind was knit in confusion. Everything that I had been taught since I was shoved out of the womb was suddenly being brought into question by one small event.
“I’m going for a swim,” I decided. My mind was going to explode if I kept thinking about it.
I walked into my room and took out my bathing suit. It was pink and had the excellent asset of making my boobs look bigger. I put it on quickly and removed the cross from my neck so it wouldn’t get damaged. A glance in the mirror only confirmed what I already knew. I look hot!
The sun was pleasantly battering my skin as I walked down to the pool and took a seat in one of the lounge chairs. I was alone, so I let my mind wander. A smile crept across my face. I remember the first pool experience I had with Lenny.
“Hurry up, Kara! How long does it take you to put on a bathing suit?” Lenny asked.
“Stop being so impatient! I’m done!” I said as I walked out of the Warwick’s changing area. One look at me and he raised his eyebrows.
“Sexy. Trying to give me a hard-on?” he joked as he put out his cigarette by the side of the pool.
“What are you doing!? You can’t put that out there!”
He rolled his eyes.
“Who the fuck cares? You rich people deserve it!”
“Well, you might feel that we rich people deserve it, but it’s going to be you poor people that have to clean it up!” I explained triumphantly.
He exhaled slowly before picking up the cigarette and throwing it in the trash.
I dipped my toe in the bitter water only to yank it out a few milliseconds later.
“Lenny I don’t think we should swim, it’s really cold.”
“Fuck that!”
And with those beautiful words, Lenny pulled off his shorts and jumped into the pool naked. I screamed and backed away.
“Are you stupid?!” I yelled at him. If someone from maintenance came down here and saw Lenny naked, they would definitely kick us out!
“No. But I think my balls shrunk.”
“Kara!”
I exited my reverie to see Ringo walking towards me. He was wearing a very small bathing suit. But it was okay, because his body was definitely up to par! Kara, what are you doing? You might as well check out your brother!
I averted my eyes from Ringo’s form and stared at the grass. He plopped down beside me.
“How are ya feeling?” he asked as he lit a cigarette. I shrugged.
“John and Paul made up. I guess I’ll just have to see how things go.”
He nodded. We sat there in a comfortable silence. When Ringo finished his cigarette he got up and went over to the diving board. He looked around dramatically and brought a fist up to his face as if it were a microphone.
“I, Ringo Starr, am about to perform the deadliest dive that this good country has yet to see. Parents, only let your children watch with discretion,” He said in a loud voice. I laughed. He’s so weird.
“Rings what the hell are you doing?” George asked.
I turned around. My eyes met George’s but they didn’t stay there. They wandered down his slim body. He was wearing a very small and very tight bathing suit. I had to suppress the urge to pounce on him when I noticed a large amount of leg hair protruding from his blue shorts. I still thought that he was too skinny for his own good, but there was something appealing about him. Something that unconsciously made my tongue dart out and lick my lips.
I looked back up at George’s eyes and noticed that his mouth was slightly open and he was staring at my breasts. I smiled. I love this bathing suit!
I heard a splash and turned around to find Ringo submerged underwater. His little head popped up.
“Did you see it? Wasn’t it fab?!” he asked excitedly. George laughed before running and jumping into the pool. I shielded myself from potential splash-damage when George and Ringo started immaturely shoving water at one another. I got up from my chair and moved to a splash-free location. It didn’t escape my attention that George’s eyes dragged on my body when I got up and moved to somewhere else. It also didn’t escape my attention that seeing the wet hair sticking to George’s forehead made undeniable warmth spread through my chest.
“Hey Geo. I don’t think that we should be having all the fun!” Ringo yelled.
“I think you’re right, Rings.”
I glared at the two Beatles. They better not plan on coming anywhere near me!
Just then, George climbed out of the pool and casually strolled over to me. I stood up.
“What are you doing?”
He fixed me with a strange expression.
“I’m just walking. I don’t know what’s got you all worked up.”
I could read the intentions on his face. When he took another step in my direction, I ran for my life. He chased after me.
I screamed as I ran all around the pool. I was so close to the door, but I wasn’t sure that I would make it; George’s toothpick legs were made for speed.
“AHH! GEORGE!” I screamed when I felt his arms lock around my torso. Almost too easily, he lifted me off the ground and carried me over to the pool.
“Please, George, don’t throw me in!!” I pleaded. It was in vain. Not even three seconds later, George jumped and we both fell into the pool’s chilly blanket. When we were underwater, in an attempt to reach the surface, I tried to break away from George’s grasp, but he held me firmly. We re-emerged, wet, gasping for air, and staring at each other with our arms locked around the other.
I felt my tongue go dry. We were too close for any logical thought. My heart was thumping against my chest and all my eyes wanted to look at were his slightly parted lips. His brown eyes were switching between my lips and my eyes almost as rapidly as his breathing. George clutched my hip when I unconsciously moved a little closer.
“Shit,” he whispered before letting his hands drop from my body and looking over at Ringo. I mirrored George’s actions and realized that the two Beatles were having some sort of silent conversation. After a few seconds of that, George dunked his head underwater and swam to the opposite side of the pool. Frustration littered my veins. Why didn’t he just get on with it? Because he’s playing me, that’s why! He wants to see me get all crazy over him so he can laugh at my weakened state! The bastard!
I was overwhelmingly compelled to yell at George, but I didn’t want to increase any negative feelings directed at me. At least, not until I have John and Paul on my side…or maybe just Paul.
I got out of the pool with an air of nonchalance. Even though George was probably aware of the effect that he had on me, I wanted to place a little seed of doubt in his head. Like he did in mine. I didn’t even glance at him as I made my way to my seat.
“Larry, you can’t! Don’t go!” John yelled at Larry Kane as they walked outside. Larry was a reporter that traveled with us. The Beatles seemed to be pretty fond of him, but it was John who was the closest to him. When he and John first met in 1964, John’s words upon meeting him were to mention how badly dressed he was. Larry conducted the interview anyway, and when he asked John questions about the war instead of about his hair, they grew quite close. Paul told me that John even apologized for being rude. I mean, if you get the great John Lennon to apologize to you, then you’re in. As for me, I never really talked to Larry. He did help me with my luggage once though.
“John, I can’t just ‘not go’! It’s for my country!” he responded. John snorted.
“Yer gonna risk yer life for someone else to die!”
They started walking over to me, Larry was wearing a bathing suit, and John was wearing shorts and a tee shirt. Larry sat next to me and put on his sunglasses as if telling John that their conversation was over. Guess what, Larry, that’s impossible with John Lennon!
“Yer a git! Why the fuck would you want to enter the war?!” John yelled.
My ears perked up. The war? My palms became sweaty. The fucking war?
“John. I have pride for my country! I actually want to make a difference!”
“Yeah, well I have pride in the fact that yer a swine!” John bit.
I turned to the arguing pair.
“Larry?” I said quietly. He turned to me.
“Don’t go. My brother went…and…” I gulped back a few tears, “he hasn’t been the same. He still wakes up screaming in the middle of the night…it’s been years.” I looked down and fiddled with my hands before finding Larry’s eyes once again.
“He didn’t make a difference,” I whispered. Memories filled my head. I used to worry every single day he was gone. I was so afraid that I would lose the closest person I had in my life. We fought, he was annoying, but he was my blood. Knowing that he could get shot at any second of any day put me through emotional turmoil.
I looked at John. He was staring at me with an insurmountable level of respect. I stood up and walked away. At that moment, I didn’t know if I could handle being around people. As soon as I entered the house, I went into the bathroom and took a long shower. I tried to cleanse my mind of thoughts about Steve’s solider days. When I was finished I got dressed in my room. I looked at the cross on my nightstand. The cross looked scintillated due to the judgmental rays of the sun. I thought back to the conversation between John and Paul that left me in a state of ambivalence. Religion or love? Why can’t it be religion and love?
Then my mind went to George; his thick eyebrows, skinny legs, and awkwardly shaped face.
Realization dawned.
I walked out of my room and left the cross sitting on the nightstand.
Sometimes you just can’t help who you’re attracted to.
To be continued….
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