A/N: Hi All. I'm uploading but I am struggling with getting back in the zone at the moment. Not really sure what's wrong, probably just a combination of hassles in life, back pain and over analysing this story- trying too hard and coming up short! Be gentle with me :) Peace and Love.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Can't move.

Cannot move ran rampant, round and round.

The two visitors that had recently visited and now, vacated the bedroom- One sexy male and one young 'too quick to fetch the camera' female, were downstairs doing heaven knows what. The most probable scenario imagined... was that Beth was interrogating Paul and he was responding with a smirk and smoke, as she did so.

A multitude of questions raised by a teenager with a wild imagination.

And answers dropped haphazardly from that mans terribly tantilising lips. A man who had never been drawn over the coals by a teenage girl intent on squeezing every last bit of juicy information out.

He would categorically, no doubt about it, be ruining this 'ere mothers' Virgin Mary status in mere seconds!

Hmmm, Beth does know where babies come from...

Nevertheless!

Nevertheless, the entire nights' titlilating events were more than likely being dragged unbidden from that gorgeous mans' Beatley lips.

Causing Beth to either squirm...

Or take notes to sell at school!

The sheets piled high over her entire body. Her own cave in her own room. It was safe, cosy, and still warm from his heat.

Could she stay here indefinitely?

Food slipped onto the bedside table silently as she wallowed in her panic.

Beth knows. Beth saw him. Beth screeched and called for the nearest box brownie camera!

Whatever had she been thinking? The both of them! Where were both, Pauls' and her heads at, last night!? Well Jack knew what she was thinking about last night... A lovely Candlestick. A talented Candlestick...

Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,

Jack jump over the candlestick.

The butcher, the baker,

The candlestick-maker.

Up the tall white candlestick

Climbed little mousey brown..

Stop it with the nursey rhymes and candlesticks. You... you, sicko, you!!

Getting back on track...

Fantasy's and dreams were now bathed in sunlight, and also, in Beth's plain sight. How could she untangle herself from this without failing herself, or her daughter?

Words spun in her head, round and round. Like she was the author of her own sordid tale...

I was enjoying his never-ending energy and straight-up sexy charm.

His youthful cleverness... and skills.

I suspect he was into my adult-woman sensibility and... perhaps my curves.

But alas

It was an affair; nothing more, nothing less.

Was it an affair?

A mere dalliance?

A way to pass a boring afternoon, or evening?

A means to an end? *wink wink*

Maybe a little teeny bit of emotion thrown into the mix, a touch of something magical too?

What was it?

What is this?

Fun? A romp?

A bonk a day to keep the cobwebs away?

A roll in the hay?

Oh, bloody hell get up! Face Beth. Let her see you aren't ashamed. Let her see her mother as a woman with needs. With wants. A woman who can lure a god damn Beatle into her bed. She still had it! IT. Why did she not think like this before. Jacqueline Gordon had been herself... and Paul hubba-hubba humungous candlestick McCartney had wanted to be in her...

And her bed (Finally, her bed!)

Launching herself, sheets cast aside, the warm bed left for the chilly air of the bedroom. Knickers were slipped on, favourite blouse dragged over her head, snuggest capris pulled over hips- buttons hastily fastened. Hair in a ponytail, lips ever so lightly glossed. Faking it to Make it at first, then believing in herself as she let out a huge exhale and descended the stairs into the unknown.

***

Paul's gazing at the ceiling again but I sort of don't care. He fed me bacon and fried bread and sat; At first across the table, then he moved to sit beside me. The view of the stairs, and maths homework, in his plain sight.

"... Really Paul? I hate algebra it's like right gibberish. Garbage it is"

"Look. Look at it like this. A could be an apple, say; and B could be a-"

"Beatle!!!"

"Ok, yeah. B for a Beatle. So A plus B equals Beatle Apples"

"Beatle apples?"

"Stupid yeah? But it could be anything. Don't look at 'em like it's a mass of scribble, y 'know. Alls' just letters, nothing scary in them things, is there?"

"Oh, hi mum"

It hit right there, y'know. How a woman could be so god damn breathtaking and scared witless all at the same time. Jackie panicked, not surprising the way I've been shagging her like it's a dirty deed to be done in the dark. "Hello luv, have a nice lay-in?"

"Mum, Pauls super good at maths, did you know?!"

"I like English too, wasn't overly fond of science but geography, I was ace at"

"History?"

"Not so much but I like all that olden day stuff, so it wasn't not going in"

"Oh, I like Cleopatra but not the slavery bit."

"Yeah. A bit sucky that bit, innit" Trapped in Jacqueline's weighty gaze the words flowed and kept right on conversing with Kiddo "Well focus on pretty Cleo and the rest will, you know, fall into place" Jacqueline's eyes go all dreamy and soft and the things she does to me...

Mum would have liked her, all sweet and gentle; an excellent mother to boot. Sexy little arse, tits and thighs, my creamy dreams... Maybe me mum don't need to know those bits ya know... hmmm, yeah.

Still not a movement she makes. It's like she's stuck there on that creaky bottom step and can't move. Wiping her cheeks quick smart before Bethy glances up, she's quick to offer lucky me a tiny albeit watery grin.

"Soooo, what's all this then?!" Paul's helping her with her homework, the warm and fuzzies hit between the eyes and settle deep inside. The domesticity of the scene, makes all the worries of moments before, fade away. He's got this. Talented, flirty, sexy, oh so devastatingly irresistible, Paul looks just at home at the little kitchen table in our mustard yellow monstrosity of a kitchen as he does on the telly, on stage; And he looks so good, so right, so nurturing beside Beth. The walk to the kitchen takes an age, Pauls eyes following each step, as he murmurs on ona on to Bethy about dumb algebra. I hate algebra! I can hardly add the shopping list let alone deal with x's and y's; and don't get me started on fractions! Ugh!

"Paul made fried bread and he made crispy bacon and gave you the last egg. Fried hard of course, just how you like it. All in the oven there, mum"

No one helps.

No one cooks, but me.

No one cooks breakfast and saves me the last egg.

Tears tingle right in the corner; Right in the very corner of my eyes. Fingers grasp the kettle to fill as Pauls big warm hand squeezes my shoulder gently, rubbing as if he knows all the overwhelming feelings battling away inside.

"There you go pet, eat up and I'll make a fresh pot of tea"

It's all so foreign and weird! Like a sample of fabric has settled on the table, and suddenly, a tablecloth is made.

Like Magic!

Poof!

Were, we the Gordon's, missing this all along?

Was one, Jacqueline Gordon, denying Beth~ family, love, father... for her own selfish hearts' sake? Not looking hard enough for a man for both of their needs? Beth's pencil taps at the page like a drum then the 'always bloody moody for her mum' teenager is smiling. Honest to goodness beautifully beaming up at Paul as she points to a question to which she may have answered. Pauls fingers run over the page and then- they are whooping, high fiving. Slapping hands together in celebration. Eyes are stinging, quick fingers swipe any remnants of silly sentimental moisture away.

When Why How did all these domestically blissful dreams drop into our daggy kitchen, and suddenly fit?

Fit, like a child's wooden puzzle- easy, quick and so simple.

"Mummy, what's the matter?"

"Oh Jack. Come on luv. Beth and me, we got this, ok. Come on you, come sit in the front room, put those feet up. We have it all handled, Beth and I"

"I'm ok. It's ok"

"You sure?"

"Yep! Oh, look at that, fried bread. I love fried bread. Thank-you so much Paul, this is lovely"

"Mum look, this page is all finished. Pauls a Brainiac! Who knew!?!?!"

Beth's cheeky laughter made her hide a giggle behind a piece of oil-soaked bread pinched between her fingers. Pauls face, a funny mock grumpy scowl, swung about to glare semi-amused daggers at Beth. His own fingers edged closer to the cheeky teen.

"Oh Paul, I'm only joking! Arghhhhhh no!!! No tickling. Arrrrr. Please! No Paul I'll- No stop! Not my feet. Nooooooooo"

Chairs tipped, and the table displaced a foot and a half to the left; Paul now had Beth on the floor tickling the girl silly.

Lifting her teacup, a rather loud, rather contented sigh broached her lips. A grin was swallowed down with her tea. Fried bread, and piece of egg, dangling precariously from her fork.

This... she could get used to.

His laughter and fingers tickled her senses. Paul was ok. Katie was going to absolutely FLIP! when she heard the news.

Paul was doing the disgusting rudey thing with mum!

Mum had been so cute hiding under the sheets. Like she was naughty. Like she was the child; and her bright ruby red cheeks were so sweet. Even knowing Paul was there, in mum's bed, didn't seem to matter because mum's cheeks, red as they were, looked good, fresh, happy.

It was still disgusting and Pauls white briefs -ugh- yuck, vom, lay on the floor beside mum's chest of drawers like a very rudey flag. Left like a sign of what? A sign of takeover? Success?

He had crate loads of girlfriends, he did. But this morning he had his hands touching mum gently, kissing her through the sheets. Grinning at her silly game of hide and seek from the daughter. Hiding from what she had done. Paul's sigh as he ran a hand over the form of mum hunkered down under the blankets made the whole 'catching them in the bed' sort of, kind of- ok.

Could he stay? Would he want to stay, with them? He was a star, an important Beatle. Could mum keep him happy... and a slightly, only slightly mind you, selfish sarky daughter, let her?

Shriek's and squeals poured out as Paul tickled a little more vigorously. Arms and legs and body's lay sprawled across the kitchen floor.

Mum sat quietly eating egg on toast with a teeny tiny grin.

This... I think I could get used to.

***

"I'll get it!" Rang out from the front room as Jack and Beth washed the mornings' dishes.

It was only fair~ Paul cooked, they cleaned.

Fingers ripped wash up gloves off and grasped blindly for the overly wet tea-towel in Beth's hand, missing the sopping wet linen by a mile as Beth turned to place a glass in the top cupboard.

Paul couldn't answer the telephone, could he?!

What if daddy called. Not that he did very much but what if he did? Or work, Gary maybe, to see if Patties pimple had cleared up!?

The needle flipped off the currently spinning vinyl, Hermans Hermits swinging guitars lurched and blurrrrpped to a hasty stop... the telephone was answered immediately thereafter. Her eyes met Pauls as he grinned and listened and answered and hummed and harr-ed into the mouth piece.

Oh dear!

Who?

What?!

Who? WHO!?!... Was iT!??!

And Paul....

He stood there by her little telephone table twirling the short pig tail of a cord, calm as calm can be, chatting away like he was Jackie's temporary secretary.

"Oh hello. Hmmmm, yes... Fine, and you? Lovely... Pardon? Beth? Hmmmm yes.... Ahuh, no- no, not good. Right. Exactly!... I. Exactly....Hmmmm? I.... of course. I understand. No, it isn't.... Yes, these days, these days indeed... I'll have a chat. You can count on me.... Oh, you too! I know. She is..... Oh ha ha! Yes, lovely. Hmmm?.... Of course, of course..... Righteo. I will indeed give my fondest regards to Missus Gordon. Goodbye.... Yes. Cheerio.... You too, have a good day. Tar-ah"

What was fine? Beth!?

Beth What!?

Who in the world is sending Missus Gordon fondest regards!?

"Jack luv, that was the principal of Saint Geo's"

Oh Nooooooo!

"All sorted luv"

Beth rushed and stood beside her.

Worrying fingers Jack crossed them over her tummy, clutching her sides. Oh dear. Her face must be positively ashen.

"Mum?"

"Bloody hell Jacqueline, sit down would you, before you fall down!"

"Fetch your mum a glass of water, Kiddo. There you go luv, you settle yourself in the comfy chair. Right?"

Beth pushed the glass haphazardly toward quivering lips but all Jack could do was push the unwanted, still swirling vessel, away

A barely audible "Principal?" whispered toward Pauls ears. His fingers rubbed her shoulder and squeezed some of the tension away. He did that a lot! Nice though. He was very nurturing in that way. Caring about what was the matter. What got you upset. Very nice that. Very... very. Mmmmm, just over to the left a bi-. Hang on!

Trying again, the word was pushed out with a little more conviction "Principal?"

"Oh yeah luv, all sorted, great innit"

Mmmmm left, up a bit, over, down. Ohhhh yeahhhh yeah yeah, his fingers were excellent for back massage too, who knew!?! "What's all sorted!?!"

No yelling please, we're British- not hooligans, Jacqueline.

"What is all sorted Paul?" There, that's better. Rational voice, still worried but not inappropriately overwrought and ridiculously high inside an enclosed area~ voice.

"Beth, stop shoving the water at your mothers gob! She's seems ok now, back on track aren't ye luv. Arrr, oh yes, right. The principal Mister...... um err?"

"Principal Clarence... Ut-Oh mum. He's so mean and gives us piles of home-"

"Clarence! That's it Beth! Mister Jameson Clarence Esquire. Bloody toff tosser"

"Paul, please tell me you didn't just have a conversation with the headmaster of St. George's School"

"Ok I could, but that would be a lie Jacqueline. You don't want me lying now, do you?"

"Of course not. Actually... Yes. Please lie and tell me you didn't just have a grand chat with the headmaster of my daughter's school"

Remember your inside voice Jackie.

"OooooKay...."

"Paul"

"Yep luv"

"What did he say?"

"Who?"

"The headmaster"

"Oh, I wasn't talking to the headmaster Jack"

"I- You just said you were"

"But you said to not tell y-"

"I was kidding Paul! I need to know what the principal said, don't I!"

Breath. In through the nose, out throught the- "Beth! Stop shoving the water in my face, you're not helping!" Where was I? ...Breath...

"Oh alrigh' then. Don't get your knickers in a ruddy knot"

"Paul, please"

"Right. Ok. We had a very nice chat"

"Who... was 'we'?"

'Me, and old mate Jameson Esquire"

"I meannnn, who did he think you were?"

"Oh good lord, I don't know. I just hemmed and hawed to that bit of it actually"

"What bit?!"

"The bit where he said Good morning Mister Gordon"

"You 'hemm'd' when Principal Clarence said 'Good Morning Mister Gordon'?"

"Is there an echo in here? Ouch! Why'd ya smack me for! Not cool Jack, not cool. Yes, I hemm'd I was a Gordon- shoot me"

"So, he thought you were Mister Gordon..."

"Yes. I think we have established that, don't you. Don't look at me like that, you're the one who wanted me to tell a fib, Jacqueline"

"And he...?"

"Oh yeah- right. Old Clary wanted me to know Beth's been a naughty girl" Then, under his breath, Paul slipped a quiet, Jackie's ears only, aside  "Not as naughty as her mummy though...hey luv" Then he began squealing "Ouch! Geezus Jack! Owww, cut it out!" For safety's sake he slipped behind Beth to continue the chat, all whilst vigorously rubbing his red forearm

"Old Clarabella ha ha! Oops, sorry. Old Clarence said 'did I know bout kiddos tardiness' yarda yarda. I said 'hmmm' and then when he asked me to 'have a word' I said 'righteo' and I 'hmmm'd' again, I think; Then we rang off!... All civilised like."

"Just a word, to Beth..."

Stop!!

Take the needle off this whole conversation a mo!

What utterance did the adorable Jacqueline let flutter across those glossy, rather dexterous, lips of hers?

'Word'.

'The Word'

Tucking that one in the old noggin's filing caddy for use later. Gotta take every little thing (tee hehe) and store them for a song lyric. That's the name of the game son. Store 'em, drag 'em out when the labels squawking for another piece of vinyl for the masses then...

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo, a masterpiece!

"And he doesn't want to have an appointment with Mister Gordon?"

"Pardon 'cusy? Oh no, didn't say that- no"

"Nor expulsion?"

"What! Never! He wouldn't dare do that to our little girl! He couldn't! Beth give daddy a hug. Ouch! What is it with you women!? I'll be black and blue when I eventually escape"

"Escape?!"

"Leave... Leave to go to my boring job, nine to five, then home again. Then all again tomorrow luv"

"You are becoming delusional"

Very quietly, sarcasm passed under a young ladys' breath "Becoming????????.........."

"I'm Mister Gordon, I am. What do I do then? Something in Banking? Solicitor? Oh my, don't tell me- Barrister. I wear one of those woolly wiggy hat thingys!"

"Paul"

"Yes Kiddo?"

"Can you leave and send John back in your place"

"Ummmm really luv? I don't think John would dig your mum like that Bethy... then again- Ouch! Jack stop that!"

"Beth, go get ready for school please"

"Oh blah, muuuum"

"Go. And hurry, don't want Principal Clarence having to ring your father again do we"

"I think that has a rather nice ring to it actually"

"You- father?"

"Yeah, 'course. Got a good ring to it, innit. Is Kiddo all the way upstairs yet? Listen.... Yep. I hear her slamming drawers already- Good. How about it luv... Wanna make a baby with moi?"

"Paul!!!"

"Was just kidding. Look I've got to go see what Johns latest master-punce is but I'll be back later"

"Maybe tomorrow might be better, give Beth and-"

"Nooooo, later today would be far grander. Beth has some more Maths homework and I intend to help her"

"Really?"

"Really"

"Ok... I guess that would be nice for her. I won't be back here til five, or six if I happen to miss the bus"

"Give us a good snog then, and I'll be on me way"

"Beth could be down any minute"

"Better snog super-duper quick then Jacks, hadn't ya"

"One kiss"

"Christ, it's like all those weeks ago when you had me tucked up behind that there sofa! Hmmmm yes well, no cracking me nose on the front door this time, alrigh luv?"

"Perhaps I should let the thing hit you in the backside as you leave then?"

"Oh darling, you like me bum too much to have it damaged. Don't cha luv"

"I do like to see the sight of it I guess"

"I guess?! I guess?"

Sneaking a couple more kisses the jacket found mark, slung over his shoulder, fingers grasping the collar nonchalantly to hold it in place.

"I think Kiddo will be fine with us, ya know."

"She seems to have gotten over the surprise quite quickly"

"That's because I'm me"

"You. Mister big head"

"Nah, me mister nice guy. Can smooth over the most ruffled of feathers, I can. John calls it sucking up. I call it smart. You can't open doors when feathers are ruffled and I wanna inch into many of your openings often, Jack"

"How about I open the front door and you leave"

"Owww. Shot through the heart luv. You wound me! I won't do that thing I do when I... you know, and press just right, and you squiggle to the-"

"Thanks for your time! Goodbye!"

With the faintest of pushes and presses of lips, the candle-bearer was slowly positioned a quarter inch, give or take, outside the front door.

"Squiggle to the-"

Shit she's gone and done it again! If the door was recently painted I'd have wet paint on me blasted nose! Cheeky sexy fox she is. Calling louder through the door 'cause she's def leaning on it... 'cause he'd tested the door handle hadn't he. "Alright then, I'll see you tonight hun. Cheerio, off to the salt mines I go then. Tarah my luv"

~*~*~

"Oh there he is. How's the little woman? Still coveting Russia?" Lucky sods been getting some again. Cyn's quit for a bit, says it's good for her girly parts. I say mine 'ill fall off if it doesn't get a raise. She offered me ten quid, cheeky cow.

"Leave off with the Hitler bit for once, would ya"

"Of course. Yes. She is Scarlet. The Reds. She's all over that part of Europe, that girl. Which side will she take is the prickly question" Waterloooooo Heil Hitler! That's not right -wrong fudging century, you numbskull.

"I either stuffed up or won beau of the year"

"Paullll, did you bring the biscuits? Ringo forgot"

Paul doesn't have a grocery bag about his person but you never know do you. John would have eaten them on the drive in. Ringo's too cheap and Pauls the one with the gurl that bakes so yeah Paul. Pattie says I need to eat more but nothing is in the larder. Poor me, poor George, poor-

"No, I didn't bring biscuits! Eat the crackers George"

"Don't like them ones" Ugh soft and not enough salt.

"Here"

"Why'd ya give me a fiver?"

"So you'd go to the shop and stop with the smorgasbord inquiries!"

"Can I have a fiver too? Doesn't seem right George getting a fiver and I don't. And what of poor John here, I'm sure he's feeling left out too, aren't you lad"

"Nah got twenty pound in me right shoe... and ten in the left. Rather smelly but yeah; legal currency"

"Smelly"

"L.E.G.A.L"

"Ohhh smorgasbord, good idea Paul! Might need more than a fiver though"

"Raid Johns shoe then!"

"Don't get your y-fronts in a knot James, I was only asking. John- do you mind?"

"Fudge off you clods. My smelly loot is my smelly loot"

"Com' on George I'll loan you a few quid. I'll have to jot it down though, can't have you-.... Hold up. Eyes on moi George.  See this? Can't have you: Air commas 'forgetting' mate. Cause you always do. Always 'forgetting'. Bloody Queen Liz doesn't take it all you know, it's you"

"Geezus just... Let's go. I'll pay for a pint at the pub ok?"

"Two! And a packet of crisps"

"Two and we share a packet of crisps"

"Done"

"Shake on it"

"Right Laurel and Hardy have finally departed, where was I?"

"In Jacqel-"

"I mean where was I in the case of 'Beau of the decade' or stuffed Up?"

"Did she hit you Paul?"

"No, well yes. But it was more like a Chinese Burn"

"Unimportant. Did she screech and squawk?"

"Um I don't recall bird noises, no"

"Did she tip over furniture?"

"No, Beth and I moved the table an inch and knocked a chair over"

"You fought with her kid!?!? Definite stuff up mate. Big time"

"We were tickling, having a game ya know- fun"

"Huhhh, fun- interesting concept. So you didn't shag-"

"Yes, I did, but not when I was tickling Beth"

"I should hope not! That would be some kind of deviant act, that would"

"Anyway! I took a call from the-"

"Doctor, she's got the clap, I knew it. Always the quiet ones isn't it. Cyn once-"

"No! Geezus. Just... Just, you know, can it"

"Who'd want to can 'Clap'... Get your can of 'Clap' here folks. Everyone's welcome to purchase a case of burning penis. Clap-tin (haha) for 20 guinea a piece. You might be on to something Paulie. Quit singing, sell The Clap! I'll get advertising sorted, you harvest"

"I don't really know why I bother talking"

"Nor do I"

"Straight up"

"I don't do that... slouch a bit"

'Farrrrrrrr out"

"No. Bit to the left, nothing too slouchy"

"Argghhhhhhhh"

"We're back, and we have biscuits from the lunch ladies! Lucky score right!!!!!!!!"

"What's wrong with Paul, John... It's not like him to lay about. It's almost like he's in a fetal position"

"...He may have the clap"

"That'll do it"