Thursday, October 4, 2012

Chapter 1

I had already had too much to drink that night as Paul brought me another Scotch and Coke. The four of us sat huddled together in the corner of the smoky nightclub drinking and laughing. It was only the third time I’d been in that particular club and the fourth time I had met John, and I was finally beginning to loosen up a bit. His celebrity was fading away to allow the true person beneath shine through. The alcohol didn’t hurt my ability to relax either. Paul and Christine had been dating for a while at that point, but looked more in love than ever. They held each other close, whispering sweet nothings in one another’s ears while John and I chatted together. He was every bit as charming, funny, and crazy as I had expected him to be, which made it easy to relax somewhat. But his flirting was incessant and involved him constantly touching me and sitting very close and saying inappropriate things like how beautiful I was. Of course, this would have been any other girl’s dream, but not mine. John was married and the whole thing made me very uncomfortable. Everyone knew he wasn’t faithful to his wife and I knew from personal experience!

The first time I met John was in that very club; my first time there. I was supposed to be meeting only Christine and Paul, but when I arrived, who were they with? Why none other than “the smart one” himself, John Lennon. Now, of course, I was obsessed with the Beatles, like any girl my age, who was in her right mind. And that obsession took hold of me. I gawked at John and blushed and giggled and did everything I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t control myself. I had made a total fool of myself the first time I had met Paul as well, only with him the effects had long since worn off since he and Christine had been dating for quite a while. Now he was just Paul, my best-friend’s boyfriend, instead of Paul, “the cute one.” John could sense how awestruck I was and he took full advantage. After the four of us had been talking for quite some time, John suddenly leaned in and kissed me hard on the mouth. After the initial shock wore off, I allowed myself to enjoy it for a second; to appreciate his sweet taste and live in the moment. But when that moment started to last longer than it should have, I quickly became aware that Paul and Christine were giggling at us and I pulled away. John was married. I had to remember that. And I reminded him, much to his disappointment.

Back in the present, Paul and Christine suddenly stood.

“Right then we’re off, mate,” Paul said to John raising his eyebrows in that way that only Paul could.

I looked at Christine and widened my eyes to imply, “And just what am I supposed to do?”

She just smiled, waved goodbye, and turned to leave with Paul.

“Guess it’s just you and me then,” John said smiling that mischievous smile I had seen so many times on television.

“We should probably both be getting home too,” I said.

“Right. And where do we live?” he asked playfully.

“I live across town. You live with your wife, or have you forgotten?” I asked sharply. I did not want him getting any ideas.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, girl, loosen up,” he said, rolling his eyes.

I narrowed my eyes at him. I did not think flirting with a married man, or suggesting we go home together was funny at all and if that meant I wasn’t loose, then I just wasn’t loose. I knew exactly how John was, always looking for some girl to go home with, but never satisfied. And I had no interest in being a one-night stand; just another pathetic love-sick groupie.

“I like you, in case you haven’t noticed,” he said seriously. “Do you really think I’d keep showin’ me face round here if I didn’t?”

I hadn’t really thought about it. I guess I just assumed they were there because it was a club they frequented. It was, after all, the same club where Christine had met Paul in the first place.

“You haven’t noticed then?” he looked surprised. “You thought we just showed up here by accident and I thought, ‘Well, long as I’m here I might as well try and pull a bird’?”

I didn’t know what to think. Was he telling me he came specifically to see me? But why? He was a married man. I thought I had made it perfectly clear the first night we met, when he had kissed me, that I wasn’t interested in being a one-night stand, much less the “other woman.” Perhaps that didn’t faze him. Who was I kidding? He was John Lennon, of course that didn’t faze him. He thought he could have any girl he wanted. And he was probably right. Any of them, but me.

“John, you’re married. I don’t know how many different ways I have to remind you I am not interested in being a one-night stand,” I said.

“Who’s asking you to, love?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“You! Why else would you tell me you’ve been coming here to see me other than to try and get me into bed?”

“Because, it’s the fuckin’ truth! It is why I’ve been coming here, the one and only reason. I don’t even like this bloody club.”

Had he not been married, or had the reputation for being the womanizer he was, I would have melted into a puddle the second I heard him say those words. I was undeniably attracted to him. And who could blame me? He was beautiful in his red sweater, grey pants, and black jacket and Beatle boots. He was funny and sweet, when he wanted to be, intelligent and unfathomably talented. I wanted desperately to believe he really liked me. That he really wanted to be around me. In fact, down deep I felt like he was being honest. But I couldn’t allow myself to be with a married man. I had no interest in breaking up a home, happy or not. And I certainly didn’t want to be just another one of his girls.

The second time I had met John was at a dinner party at Paul’s house. There, Paul introduced me to poor Cynthia. She was so sweet, a really lovely, genuine person. But I could tell she was no happier than John. Actually, she seemed flat out miserable. It’s not as if John’s infidelities were a big secret. If even I knew about them, surely Cynthia did. And yet she put up with it for some reason. Perhaps she did it for their son, Julian, a beautiful little boy who looked just like his father. Later during that evening, John and I had somehow ended up speaking alone in another room. The conversation started off friendly enough, but before I knew it, he was back to flirting with me and then tried to kiss me again! I was horrified. Cynthia and Julian were somewhere in the very same house, presumably somewhere nearby, and he tried to kiss me? What had he thought was going to happen? That I would just let him kiss me, and then he’d drag me off to a bedroom somewhere away from the dinner party and do me while everyone wondered where we were? Or even worse, while everyone including Cynthia, knew where we were? I promptly left the party without even saying goodbye to anyone.

The third time we met we were once again in this same club, about a week before the current meeting. John had apologized profusely for trying to kiss me at Paul’s house. I forgave him, outwardly, but deep down I was really disgusted he was capable of doing something like that to his family, though I knew perfectly well it was not the first time he had done it. That third meeting was a little more comfortable. He didn’t try anything with me and we had been able to talk like friends and actually get to know each other a bit. He hardly flirted with me, which, privately, was somewhat of a letdown if I am being completely honest. But at the same time I was proud of him for at least respecting the fact that I would rather be a friend than someone for him to cheat on his wife with. I thought maybe he had given up hope of getting something more from me than friendship, which is why I was so surprised at the way he was presently acting.

“John, I thought we’ve moved past this? You’re married and you know I don’t…”

“Come off it,” he said disgustedly. “I’ve told you I’m not happy with bloody Cyn. I suppose I was at some time, but I haven’t been for a really long time now. Maybe that’s why I’m always sleepin’ round. Maybe I’m trying to find someone to fill the void, I don’t really know.”

“You don’t have to justify your infidelities to me, John. I’m not judging, I’m just saying…”

“Like bloody hell you’re not judging. You Americans are the best judges out there. You lot pass judgments on everyone. Hell, you been judging me since the moment you met me. Probably even before,” he said. “First you judged me as a Beatle, then as a married Beatle, then as a married John, and then as just a plain old cheater. Don’t fool yourself. You’re always judging, Maggie. For once I’d like you to just see me as John,” he said with a hurt tone in his voice.

“It’s too hard,” I said honestly. “I knew you before I even met you. Nothing is going to change that. You were ‘Beatle John’ to me for so long. And, trust me, I was in love with ‘Beatle John.’ He was so dreamy,” I laughed. “But then to meet you… it’s just so different…”

“A disappointment?”

“No, it’s just that… well, you’re married.”

John frowned.

“I could have you in my dreams, but…”

“Not just in your dreams, love,” he said, looking into my eyes.

I could see the inner workings of his mind cranking away behind his eyes and I knew I should stop talking, but I’d had too much to drink, so I continued,

“…reality is a different story. And I know you say it’s not a happy marriage, but I just can’t see past the word, ‘marriage.’”

“Can’t you even try?” he asked sincerely.

I shook my head, taking another drink.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“What if Paul was just some bloke your friend was dating and I was just some ruggedly handsome, daft mate of his?” he smiled, his gorgeous teeth so white and straight. And he giggled a little and then continued,

“And what if we met and hit it off… which I think we have done? And you knew I was married, but I was just a regular bloke, mind you, nothin’ would get out in the papers if we were to get together?”

I twisted uneasily in my seat.

“And what if you also knew that it was a miserable, loveless marriage; nothin’ more than a legal commitment? Wouldn’t you…”

“But none of that matters, John” I slurred a bit, interrupting him. “That’s not how things are, so it just doesn’t matter.”

“Just answer the fuckin’ question,” he said. “Come on, Maggie, please? Do me a favor and play along won’t you?”

I sighed.

“If you were not “Beatle John” and we met? I suppose there would be an attraction,” I said.

“And if we were together the way which we are right now and I… err… the other I… the one who’s not this I,” he smiled, “placed my hand on your leg like this…”

He rested his hand on my knee.

“…You wouldn’t remove it would you?”

“His? Maybe not. Yours? Yes,” I said, removing his hand from my bare knee.

“Come on, Maggie. I’m tryin’ to make a point,” he said replacing his hand on my knee and caressing it with his fingers. “If I was just some bloke you were attracted to, you probably wouldn’t even mind this, would you?” he asked while running his hand a little further up my thigh.

I shivered at his touch. His fingers were callused from years of guitar playing, but somehow they were still soft and caring. I was falling into the little scenario he had created and found myself wishing it all to be true. I wished that he was the other guy, the non-Beatle guy he was talking about, and that the circumstances he set up were really the way things were.

“John,” was all I could manage.

Knowing he was getting to me, he ran his hand further up my thigh and under my mini skirt. I let out a gasp in surprise, but could say nothing. He began stroking me gently. He knew exactly what he was doing. It was dark in the club and we were in a back corner, so no one paid us any attention. I knew it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t help what I was feeling. He moved his body in closer to me and whispered,

“Can we go home now?”

To which I only nodded.

We both got up, his arm around my shoulder and mine around his waist, and we left the club that way, uncaring of who saw us. Once outside he planted a kiss on me like I had never had. And I tasted his sweetness once again. He held me close to him and kissed me passionately plunging his tongue in as far as it would go and moving it around in a desperate manner. I took it. I was so wrapped up in him my inhibitions were out the window. His driver was sitting in John’s Rolls Royce nearby and when he saw us, pulled up and let us in. We got in taking only a quick moment to tear our lips from each other, and then replaced them right away. I then took one more moment to tell John’s driver where I lived which was in Highgate, miles away from where we were.

The passion was too much and I was too intoxicated to think about how wrong what we were doing was. John replaced his hand under my skirt as we kissed and, this time, slipped his fingers beneath my underwear. His touch was driving me wild. He kissed my neck, and my chest, and then moved back to my lips. I closed my eyes and rocked my hips in time with the movement of his fingers. John could tell I was almost there and suddenly denied me of his hand.

I gasped, opening my eyes to look at him.

“Steady, now,” he said with a sly smile.

I bit my lip wanting badly for him to finish and noticed the driver glancing at us in his rearview mirror, but I was so far gone on booze and sheer desire that I didn’t even care. I reached over and grabbed John wanting to return the favor. I began rubbing him and he tilted his head back and closed his eyes letting me know how grateful he was. Feeling him grow hard in my hand and hearing the quiet little moans of appreciation he was releasing were driving me crazy. He placed one hand on mine in order to guide me on how exactly he wanted me to do it, while the other slipped back beneath my panties. I couldn’t take it anymore. I lost my mind. I moved his hand away from me and used both of mine to unbutton his fly. I reached in his underwear and grabbed his hardened naked flesh. He looked at me in surprise and mild amusement, but I don’t think even he knew what I had in mind. Knowing the driver was watching I didn’t care, I climbed over on top of John, and moved my panties to the side. I guided him into me and moved up and down slowly on top of him. I looked down to see a look of ecstasy spread across John’s face that turned me on even further. I began riding him harder wanting him in me as deep as he would go and I buried my face in his neck sucking and kissing desperate for more, of what I wasn’t sure. He lifted the front of my top and buried his face between my breasts kissing and nuzzling. Then moved both hands to my hips and pulled me down on him hard. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed everything my lips could reach from that position. He continued guiding me up and down until I exploded with pleasure. My entire body shuddered in delight but I continued moving on him until a hard thrust into me told me he had reached that point as well. I collapsed on top of him. He groaned and kissed my neck, cheeks, and mouth.

It wasn’t until I climbed off of him that it hit me. What the hell had I just done? I had just given in to exactly what I didn’t want to. I was no better than any of the rest of The Beatles’ groupies.

“Well, that was…” he started with a smile, fastening his pants back up.

“Wrong,” I said disgusted with myself.

“No. Amazing,” he said and looked at me like he meant it.

It was, but I had no intentions of telling him so. Suddenly I was fully aware we were near my apartment.

“That’s the one,” I told the driver, pointing to the small house where my first floor flat was.

When we pulled up, I got out and started toward my apartment until I noticed John was also getting out of the car.

“I hope your bed’s not one of those twin beds, I’ve not been keen on sleepin’ on them ever since we were in Hamburg,” he said. “Then again, if we’re on top of each other it might not be that bad,” he giggled.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

I was shocked he was still planning on coming into my house. I had an image of him dumping me out of the car and speeding off into the night. Maybe he thought we’d do it again? Was there a chance he really just wanted to stay over; to be with me? I wasn’t sure the answer, but I didn’t really want to find out. It would just make things more difficult than they already were.

“What do you mean what am I doin’? I thought we were going home? I thought that was the whole point of us leaving the club? Don’t tell me you got what you wanted and now you’re tossing me out?” he said lowering his head in a mock look of hurtfulness and batted his eyelashes in his comical way. “You American girls are all same, you know? Just after one thing you are,” he said, now pretending to be disgusted while crossing his arms across his chest and turning his nose up.

Then he smiled in case I wasn’t sure he had been joking.

“It was a mistake, John” I said.

“Well, if that was a mistake, love, I’d like to see how you do it correctly,” he said with a laugh.

I looked at him as serious as I possibly could to let him know I found nothing funny about what had just happened between us.

“Maggie, that was real!” he exclaimed. “If you couldn’t tell, then you’re a bit soft in the head.”

“Go home, John. Go home to your wife, now,” I said and walked away.

“Oh come on, Maggie,” he called after me.

But I didn’t respond and he didn’t follow.

“MAGGIE!” he called once more.

Tears started to burn my eyes, but still I did not respond to him. I entered my apartment and fell to the floor crying. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. The phone rang and I thought, “It couldn’t be John, he just left, unless he’s gone across the street to phone me?”

“Hello?” I asked.

“Hey, Maggie, how’d it go?” I recognized Christine’s voice.

“Why the hell did you leave me with him?” I asked, trying my hardest to put the blame for what happened on someone else.

“Maggie, are you all right?” she asked. “You sound like you have a cold and since I saw you just a few hours ago and you didn’t, I’d venture to guess that means you’ve been crying.”

“You want a prize?” I asked sarcastically.

“Oh God, so what happened?” she asked.

“It was just supposed to be you and me tonight. It was supposed to be a girls’ night,” I said. “Did you know Paul was going to show up?”

Silence on the other end of the line confirmed my suspicion.

“And John?” I continued.

Still, there was no answer.

“What is wrong with you, Christine? Why are you and Paul set on trying to get the two of us together? He’s married. MARRIED, Christine,” I began to cry some more.

“We just thought the two of you are a lot alike and…”

“Yes, but there’s one major difference, I’m not married!”

“So, you’re falling for him and he’s married, is that the problem?” Christine asked.

“Oh, it’s so much more than that,” I laughed.

“Maggie, talk to me here. What is the problem? When I left you guys were fine. You were very friendly to one another. What changed? What happened?”

I began to tell her the whole story. How John made clear his feelings for me. How I felt when he had touched me. How I lost complete control. I even told her about how John’s driver was watching us and that I didn’t care. I told her how the orgasm he gave me was stronger than any I had ever experienced and how even afterward, he still wanted to spend the night.

“Oh my God,” she said. “Do you think his driver will tell anyone?”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out tomorrow if the headlines of the newspaper read:


“I don’t think they can say “fucks” in the newspaper,” Christine giggled.

“Well, since it was his personal driver, I don’t really expect him to go to the papers. I’m sure he sees a lot of that sort of thing. Especially with all of John’s girls. But Christine, promise you won’t tell Paul. I just don’t want everyone to know.”

“Okay, I promise,” Christine said. “But you do realize John will probably tell Paul, don’t you? They’re just like us. They tell each other everything.”

I groaned. I hadn’t thought of that.

“Great, now Paul will look at me as just another one of John’s sluts,” I said.

“No he won’t. Paul and I were trying to get you two together, remember?” Christine said.

“Yes, but you weren’t trying to get me to screw him in the back of his car,” I said. “Don’t you see, Christine? I’m no better than any of those girls. He wanted it and I just gave it to him, willingly. We might as well have gone into the bathroom of the club and gotten it over with.”

“Well, it wasn’t that willingly from what Paul tells me,” she said. “You didn’t tell me he tried to kiss you while we were at Paul’s dinner party! Seems like he’s been trying to get it since he met you. At least you held out for a little while. Most girls probably would have given it to him the first night they met him.”

“And I waited until the fourth night. Thank you Christine, I feel so much better,” I said.

Christine laughed. “Take it easy. It’s not a big deal.”

“Just please don’t purposefully bring him around me anymore, okay? He’s married and I don’t want to do that and it’s too hard to be around him. Him… being the way he is, I mean.”

“I promise,” Christine said. “Get some sleep. It’ll all be all right.”

Shortly after we hung up the phone, it rang again. This time John had had some time to get home, so I was a bit afraid to answer it. I let it ring several times before I finally worked up the courage.

“What?” I said assuming it would be him.

“Oh, pardon for ringing so late. But is Maggie Jones available, please?” I heard a man’s voice ask.

Wrong Beatle. It was Paul.

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