A/N: It's here. An update. Not the best, not the worst but I have managed to load something! Glory be! Its not perfect so please please me and let me know where I went wrong or any spelling mistakes and I will try and fix. Thanks luvlies xx, AK  

*Vid is from Festival Hall Melbourne Australia. Ringo back at the kit after his bout of tonsillitis and pharyngitis. 17/06/64*

Lips pressed, hands sought, eyes held.

The troupe had arrived.

Consisting of half a quartet of Beatles, one fashionable model and one boggle eyed female this posse was feted with questions, blinded by cameras, shoved, pushed and prodded til a sliver of glass with mahogany timber framework materialized to protect them from the noise and the not so gentle jostling... Blindness by flashbulb however, still transpired. Fingers covered eyes, hands lifted as shields. Pattie clutched hands with both Jacqueline, and George.

A conga line of knowing- George leading, fully aware of the vultures. Pattie hustling after him and Jackie, the unknowing one, stunned by the lightning of flashes, followed somewhat typhlotic up the rear.

Soaking in the adulation he, on the other hand, stood surrounded.

Reporters skirting in suits, circled.

Grin often.

Chat, yet say naught.

Answer questions, yet give nix away.

A learned method of controlling the uncontrollable. Brian gave prompts, offered suggestions on how a flurry of questions may be traversed in interviews but here, with George leading the girls away from the eye of the storm... it was time to deflect. Time to respond to questions with banal, hackneyed...tripe. 

Usssuallyyy like it, but with Jackie here, this was different. She was new to all this rubbish.

The magnificent centre of a fab four universe if it's a good day. A large black hole on a bad.

Anyway, what is she actually doing here, in public. This isn't a thing. This is just a bit of snogging and hitting the sack not parading about in front of the British masses. Bri will do his lolly if he smells another one of us being permanent-like with a lady. It's all smoke and mirrors this; The cute Beatle saved for casual outings only, dalliances covet. 

To keep the band viable, no not viable..., buyable. Yeah to keep the female fans on the edge of their seats in the shallow sea of hope that they, one day, could land the most eligible bachelor in the world. Bit shit actually, then again... the whole world.

"Who's the girl?"

"Pattie"

"The other one"

"George"

"When's the next album coming out?"

"Oh, I don't know, ya know... Next month perhaps? Doing a bit"

"Is John and Ringo joining you today?"

"No, he has a thing"

"John or Ringo?

"Yeah, well ya know how he is"

"Who is that other-?"

"Ta-rah all. See you at the next one"

Mal pressed forward.

The door opened and the club beckoned. Past its teeth into its stomach as it were.

A melee of female forms flung themselves through the doors. They were after the main course, seeking dessert. Knockers, fingers and lusty eyes beseeching. Squeals, heels and tugs and them all pressing in tight.

Pins knock kneed and flesh flushed.

"'Ello ladies, alrigh?"

"Hi Pauuull" Was breathed through faint sighs, fingers reached, touched, invaded. Grand all this. Though the odd screwball made days hard but on the whole... On the whole, holey moley- tits, tits and more tits.

"Nice night innit"

"Yeah, now it is" A minx of a blonde retorted then bit her lip and batted her eyelashes about madly. Giggles erupted in the cramped stair-well; A door closed as another opened.

The walk to the bar was a cramped affair. The women pressed flesh flush. Trapped on three sides with fingers trailing all over me suit, over me tie, swipes at me arse, me codger. Arms clung to, jacket yanked. Eye lashes flutter, lips in an 'o'. Perfumed ladies leaning, touching, fluttering all about.

Akin to butterflies in the first breath, shining like pennies in the next. She's a looker. Brunette, pale pink lippy, breasts pressing along me arm. Carnal thoughts arise like always.

Gods creations begging for deliverance. Begging to be touched, begging for a tour of my own brand of heaven. Drink in hand the posse quieten. I usually pick right about now, offer a lass a beverage, escort her to a booth, escort her home at nights end. My drink lifts, lips part and sighs murder my ears as I swallow. A honey pot that's what Mal mocks and calls me, from time to time; and yes they come. Many, many come. Some innocent and pure, some the devils spawn. All beautiful in their unique way, all to be worshipped, all to be conquered. Sliding my eyes over the display, I can't help it, my tongue emerges and wickedly licks my lips. The cohort of feminine wiles, swoon. The power I have, the unending river of flesh before me flows for my own personal pleasures.

Teasingly, I touch cheeks, run a hand down a shapely arm and the results? Yelps of pleasure erupting. George swaggers over, eyebrows raised. It's a game this. A game of when the bubble bursts because sure as eggs this little lovefest of a bubble will burst. And then I spot the one I'm supposed to be here with.

Devastating is an understatement.

She sure is cool.

Chin lifted, drink held high and eyes not on me.

Should be pleased though, shouldn't I. I should take my time with these lusty lasses with legs ready to spread open for miles. Though... why is she not looking? Why come with, and not search out, me. Why not pull me out of this harem of bodies.

From the display at the bar, every other female and male in the room knows where I'm stood. Knows what's going on. But not Jackie. No, not the beautiful Jacqueline. She's immune to all this and its perplexing and sexy and infuriating all at once. Couldn't she, shouldn't she, cause a scene. Do I want her to? She's supposed to be flotsam on my river. Here today... gone tomorrow.

"You are utterly terrorising him and you don't even realise it!" Nudged by Pattie, she grins and smirks gaily at my display.

"I can see you grinning, you know" Pattie titters from behind her glass. I side eye my pretty friend, my pretty boss. Mastering the sly side eye is a necessity of a mother. Beth cheekily pinching another piece of chocolate does that to a girl. Eyes in the back of me head. And eyes in the front also.

Paul's posse is killing me inside. Gorgeous, and so young too. They know how to approach and captivate. It's an art that is. Sidle up to the gorgeous man and flirt, flirt, flirt. And it hurts. It hurts because I want him for myself. A scary thought... for myself? To be mine... No! Surely that would never work. Sex yes. Casual, hot, fabulous sex... but to have him be mine? Confusion and the idiocy of thoughts collide, my stomach hurts, my head spins.

And realisation sets in.

Wonderful Paul. Devastatingly handsome Paul.

I want him.

Want him so bad.

So bad it hurts.

I can't. It's ridiculous, preposterous. Utterly fanciful lunacy. Take what he offers Jackie girl. Enjoy what he shares with you and be thankful you got a huge slice of his cake. Because his cake was, and is, good enough to sustain on lonely nights and hard day afternoons and lets you daydream on gawd awful trips to the supermarket with a pound for a weeks' worth of groceries.

His brand of fab cake would replenish my mind for a good long while.

"Georgie, can I have some of those crisps please"

"No! They're mine! All mine!!! " George, the manic laughs and the packet is cradled, safely away from Patties fingers.

"I only want one for crying out loud Georgie!!"

"You said some. I'm not taking chances here. I know you lot" George grinned at Patties pout and mimicked her "Oh, I'm on a diet darling. I'll only have one darling'" Reverting back to his normal George voice for the rest, George complains overly loudly making heads turn in the vicinity "Before I know it.... I'm eating the remains. The remains of the crumbs Pats! No, I won't stand for it. Every mans' chips for himself!"

"Geez, let him have his crisps Pattie! I'll fetch us a packet"

Words slide out. Before they can be caught, feet move. The wide counter beside the females, and Paul, is felt under trembling fingers. Fingers that grasp and hold me up for dear life. What am I doing, why am I here, right here...? I can feel his eyes forcing themselves to lift over the beauties and bodies, searing and heating my skin. Chin- stay up, keep high, don't drop nor tremble, and certainly don't make a scene.

Cause he may like that. He may like cat fights between women laying claim to him in bars. No way missy, not going there. I'm better than being a snide and catty, jealous female. I may leave this place alone but I'll be damned if I stoop to that level.

New territory surrounds me. No frontier has beckoned like this ever before. In my old life 'last week' I was sated and ok with life. Satisfied with my lot; Satisfied with being a mum, working, eating, cleaning, sleeping. All on repeat... but now....

Now his touch is required. Somehow the delectable Paul McCartney, prince of Abbey Road, has wiggled his way into my life and created new horizons, new opportunities and promises of adventure, even if they are only between flannelette sheets (hopefully soon) or on my living room rug.

"Hellooo"

"Arrr hi" Turn toward the voice dumby. Smile. Ohhh hello. My goodness is this place a mecca of celebrity or something?!

While seated with Pattie we talked about Paul and our picnic. As she and I did so, my whole being was poised and on alert to Paul's every movement. Aware of him being swallowed in breasts and bodies. All those images captured and stabbing me inside as Pattie giggled about Paul's sickly-sweet romantic side.

All done while the man himself presented his flippin' sickly sweet romantic side to all and sundry.

I never saw the crowd across the northern side of the room until the bar was holding me up and now I think, no I know, Eric Burdon is touching my shoulder. A gaggle of men, I presume bandmates, gather to the right. Laughter ringing over a joke shared. A few movie stars stand to their left. The scene was like my copy of Woman's Weekly entertainment page come to alive.

His eyes caressed my face and the slick teasing 'o' made by those lips suggested he saw my underbelly erupt in panic as he ran a hand down from my shoulder to catch just the tips of my fingers.

The bartender hovered....

"Ordering? Ahem... Excuse me luv, orders? Drinks luv?" Words float over me and I caught the bartenders question once I managed to drag my eyes off the sight of the House of the Rising Sun singers' fingers holding mine.

"Oh yes. Crisps and a gin and tonic please. Two please" My tongue slides to moisten my dry lips as the order sprang hoarse, and a tad breathless, from my throat. He teasingly pinches my middle finger, just to let me know he is still there. I wiggle digits, fight softly for my fingers release, and won.

"Thirsty?"

"No, one is for my friend"

His voice confirmed my suspicions. He was the very man that yanked House of the Rising Sun by the tail and spun it around the room, with a granite voice, through my turntable speakers.

I glanced over at Pattie... her wide eyes were staring across the room at The Animal touching my collar. My collar!? Hooking his finger in the fabric! I claimed my lapel back and smoothed it down. Pattie was still staring. Surely, she had met him before!? Perhaps not. Now George is grinning like a loon at me. This can't be good. "....Pattie"

"Oh, you're a friend of pretty perfect Pattie are you. Well then...That makes you a friend of mine, doesn't it darlin" Eric leaned his back against the bar casually facing outwards staring out across the smoky and crowded room; he then wiggled fingers in George and Patties direction. The wiggling movement slowed as he brought those digits back to his lips and rubbed. I followed the trail. He was very mesmerising.

My gaze fell to the appearance of my order, ripples still present from the trip. Eric's fingers touched, settled and laid claim lower, on my waist. My owl-like gaze lifted to his in an instant.

He wasn't beautiful like Paul. No, I've never ever seen a more handsome man than Paul McCartney but Eric was electric, charged, badness rolling throughout. Yes indeed, he is mesmerising, but in his own unique way...

And currently deadly serious in his touchy-feely games.

Not that I'm inclined to do what I have been doing so often with Paul, with Eric; but the guy had it. It in big capital letters- I.T. His tongue darted out. He definitely had it and he knew it.

Much like Paul, he seemed all-knowing and touched me with a very, very knowledgeable touch. He knew what he did to females, and they, I presume, all responded immediately.

But that's where likeness ended and gigantic differences surged forward.

For me anyway.

Eric Burdon, he made me fear for my safety. Made me want to run screaming away from him. Danger signs posted everywhere.

Whereas, Paul's sense of self was a pantie melting elixir of sexy; tied with a delightful pull of both, wonder, and wonderful. I wanted to run to him, not away, never away.

Paul McCartney tugged me, as sure as a silky rope, to him.

"Put them on my tab" Eric advised with a cocky nod to the bartender.

...And then he swooped. My prince saving me from the big bad wolf.

"Thanks for buying our drinks Eric. Jacqueline luv, shall we?" With one hand brushing down my back to caress possessively over my bottom Paul, hubba-hubba McCartney, then inflicted a naughty light pinch to said derriere then slid that same hand back up to encompass my waist. The other hand was simultaneously, reaching and nabbing two glasses that held Pattie and my drinks plus the packet of crisps. Paul took over whatever conversation I had been fumbling through, smoothly brushed off Burdon and in mere seconds was steering an owlish woman towards pretty perfect Pattie.

Fingers sought fingers and the innocence of the touch pressed buttons. Those tiny buttons that flip you from lukewarm to boiling in moments. Blushing, gazing down at our hands so cozy and warmly entwined, was heaven. It had been so long that such an innocent act had occurred. I think I grinned but can't be sure, because I was caught with lips overtaking the act of smiling. Pressed feverously, his lips melted another pair of my panties.

At this rate I will need to put panties on re-subscription from a mail-order catalogue.... Because if I repeat buy at the local shops, I'm sure to get a name.

Loose Pantie Lady.

Free Fanny Female.

Getting it Good, Girlie.

So goooddd....

Paul slipped a wanton tongue over my bottom lip and darted in. Oh, in and out. His hands cradling my head, possession nine tenths of the law. I guess I should be annoyed. I'm a woman, not a thing. But being his plaything was so yummy, so devastatingly dreamy... I forgive and let him take me on a French lapping joyride.

George coughs and makes a hacking sound. Pattie giggles at the show. I make a break and fall back onto Pattie who languishes smirking beside me. Panting and grinning like a ninny as Paul wakes from his own kiss inspire stupor. His sexy, oh so cheeky grin drives me insane and, before I know it, I'm diving back on him. We are on show. On fire. High. Lust lights my fire. The sensual way he kneads my thigh and slides his paws up... and ... down.. and up...

Oh my.

Oh me, oh me ohhhhh myyy.

Thinking of myself is euphoric and marvelous!

He nips my earlobe and I can hear tapping. No Paul is tapping me. No! oh no, silly. Someone's tapping on the table.

Perfectly formed Paul huffs, nips with a flirty grin once more and makes the break. We alight from each other to gaze at the annoying tapper. Garry.

Garry!

"Hi there Garry! You remember Georgie, don't you? Of course, you do" Pattie takes the limelight off my startled features and Garry switches from one face to the other. Pattie- George- Me then Paul. We were snogging each other's faces off!

It makes it all so, so real, doesn't it.

Out in the real world, with real people and places and problems.

Before... even that racy set of tongue lashings mere moments before.. they were but a fairytale, a bubble if you will. Paul and me in a sexy steamy bubble of lust. Yum. Garry drags me back to reality and that makes my being Beth's mum rumble and rev and yap like a tiny dog at my heels. Bummer.

"Ladies, McCartney. George. Looks like you're all having all kinds of fun tonight. Mind if I take a photo for the Mirror" Garry stares intently and the fingers on my thigh are raked over. Pauls' warm palm swoops upwards towards my melting pot of elastic in a swoop so rapid it's dizzying. His hand squeezes and kneads provocatively as I bug eye at Garry who watches Paul's show of handy work high on my thigh.

"You don't work for the Mirror" Pattie retorts with a giggle. Her giggles seem to cover up a multitude of emotions and can make a grown man grovel at the sound.

"Freelance"

"Sorry mate, private party" Paul presses a cigarette to his lips and leans into George for a light. Geez he's sexy with a cigarette dangling from his lips or even languishing in his fingers; Blowing the smoke out in a daring circle or letting the stuff waft from his nostrils like he does in these passing moments. His cigarette points toward the entrance. Indicating the way Garry should be heading.

"Alrighty how about a snap for the mantle then. No exposure to the masses, least I can do for my girls. Pattie, I know you were wanting a cute pose with Mister H here"

"Oh yes! I was. Georgie lean in closed. Smile! Not like that. With happiness Georgie. Not with your 'there's no biscuits or crisps in the larder' face!" Pattie smiled sweetly and kissed Georges cheek for a photo, it would be cute and oh so lovely when developed. "Thanks Gar"

"No worries luv. Now Jackie. How about you and your fella?"

"No thanks mate." Pauls fingers tense and it's an extreme turn on.

"You don't have to kiss him like I did Jacks" Pattie chimes as she leans closer and wipes a telltale smudge from beside my plundered lips. "Go on, it'll be nice"

"Oh all-"

"Bugger off Gavin" The wrong moniker dropped like a lead weight on Garrys ears. Paul stood as if to leave but nodded for Mal to move in.

"Come on Paul. One picture with our Jacqueline here" George smiled and his cheek bones slashed tighter on his angular face. "Sit down will you, you're making the place look untidy"

"Only take a second." Garry smiled tightly and shifted to the left to allow a little more light settle on Jackie's features. "Jack you look lov-"

"No" Paul shoved Garry, who held his camera off to the side. Garry stepped back and his other hand went up to signal that he gives up. Scowling, Garry receded into the sea of bodies.

"Why'd ya not want a picture with Jackie for Paul?" George questioned harshly. Pattie loved Jackie and now, with hindsight, maybe she shouldn't have shoved Jackie into Paul's lion den. He hadn't changed. He took what was offered and girls, nice girls, got hearts broken more often than not.

"It's ok, George. Really" Jacqueline wasn't sure if she should be thankful or offended. Sure, the photo would have been a lovely memento of the moment but it would never see the light of day anyway. What with Beth being so Beatle crazy, she wouldn't understand Paul and her mum were out and about. Taking pictures and mingling. Should she take offence though? ... Paul didn't want to be seen with her, outside of his bubble; Outside of safe private places.

The flat- no one.

Out in the countryside- no one.

Here- lots of people but all his friends, people, famous people, all wanting to be invisible and normal.

Was she not good enough to be on his arm, walking by his side down the street, so to speak. Was she just a piece of fluff on the side, not someone for a long time; only a good time. Silly really, it's what I wanted. Secret, hidden, dirty, toe curling sizzly, copious but short term, sex. Beth wouldn't understand.

I should thank him.

And go home.

"Thank-you"

Paul let the tension ebb away as Garry disappeared into the crowd and sat back down with a thump next to her.

"I should go home. It's getting late"

"We only jus- Fuck, I didn't mean to embarrass you Jacqueline. I just-"

"It's alright Paul. You can stay, I can take a taxi-cab"

Pattie squeaked and bounced into the fray "Taxi! Don't be silly. You'll go home with us, alright. Taxi pfft, don't be noodley, Jacks!"

"She's right luv. Go home with Pattie and Geo-"

"I'm not going flipping home it's only been an hour. What are you on about? Go home!?" George leaned closer, across the table staring Paul down "She came with you. You need to take her the fuck home Paul"

"Right. Ok. Don't get in a tizz-woz Geo" Paul stood "Come on luv"

"Bye Jackie!" Pattie squeezed Jackie's shoulder, letting go only when Paul held a hand out for Jackie to take.

"You alrigh' there, pet?"

Jackie peers out the cab window. Her face shrouded and tense.

I did that. I went berko when that bald chap sidled up. He def was peeved when he eyed Jacquelines' luscious lips partying it up upon mine. He definitely has his eye on our Jack.

"Ahuh"

"He a friend of yours. Garry?"

"Work with him. With Pattie"

"He likes you Jacqueline" Can't stand to see her so distant. She was so close. I was so close. I want her in the moment. Now. She has no idea what she is, what she does... to men. With such innocence and denial of her womanly side Jacqueline hushes the thoughts of being a turn on. Squashes them all under motherhood.

"Don't be silly, he's just a friend"

"He stared at your legs drooling, darlin"

"Maybe he was drooling about your hand, Paul"

"Watch him, alrigh?"

"Sure. Ok. But he doesn't-"

Paul's tongue ducked down the only other throat on the backseat and knocked Garry for six out the back door. Mmmmm, he is so good at kissing. Warm fingers in my hair, some on my neck. Paul, flits his tongue about with hummingbird-like precision, darting it, swirling it. Commanding me to cede to his mighty fine powers. Making a mark, claiming. It's like he's... It's like he's jealous. No don't be daff. He's just horny from all those young butterflies fluttering about; and from my thigh quivering, like sex starved jello, under his palm.

Fingers drag higher slipping and dancing around, marking and lancing the blood under my skin. Making it boil and bubble and awaken in a frenzy once more... still. Alright still he has me higher than a kite in the sky, anytime at all.

The presses and pinches are building a cressendo of teasing and urgent discovery over my breast. Squeeze. Gasp. Sigh. Ohhh, the thought of him there. Latched. Held close. Nibbles. Licks. Shudder. Then, he dives. Fingers down below crawl and plunder ever higher. Senses are blown apart as fingers skim sure and firm along thin lace and secret places.

Fingers in my hair hold me in place.

And fingers encompassing lace blow me apart.

Big, quiet Mal averts his gaze....

***

"John"

"Hmmm"

"Am I pretty?"

"I guess so in a little girl kind of way. Why?"

Beth bit her tongue and skimmed her hand along the piano in the sunroom, dipping hard on the final key. The clang of resounding sound making John flinch. I'm not little. I'm thirteen nearly fourteen. I'm ready to date and kiss.

"I'm almost fourteen"

God he's gorgeous lying on his sofa with eyes closed. Disheveled in a sexy Beatle kind-of way. And he's bored with suburbia. Perhaps I could give him my love and attention and he would bounce all about like he should... instead of being bored and lying on the sofa. "I like lots of different music and can make fantastic chocolate cake."

"Hmmm"

"I've practiced kissing"

"Hmmmm... What? With who?" Attempting to crack an eye open was much to much work.

I'll let them rest.

Beth won't mind.

I'm only sleeping.

"Whom. Why? Are you jealous?" Collapsing into the armchair, slouching over one arm to be as near as possible to one terrific, tired, terribly hot Beatle was ahead as gear can be.

Cyn was off upstairs and internal squeals threatened to escape as she sidled into the sunroom after John had taken up residence on the sofa. Cyn was kind and all but John was John. Even if he was laying about he was still delish and devine... A devilishly, dishy darling. Her heart beat erratically as his finger bounced about on his tummy; some new tune possibly running through his head. Perhaps she had inspired him. Perhaps she, Beth Gordon, had captivated him and her being here was instigation of another number one monster hit.

"What? No. Just yer a kid ain't ya. Dare say your mother would be flabbergasted at this little piece of information" With a slight ankle roll the fat round stupidly positioned sunflower cushion was dispersed to the floor. "Did he touch you? The kisser?"

"It was my own arm... I must admit though, if my favourite man stepped up, I would be very willing and able to lend my lips for more..."

"Favourite man eh? What. Is it your form teacher? A boy in your class?"

"NO! Favourite man. Favourite singer. Favourite... Beatle....."

"Paul"

"No!"

"George"

"Nooooo. Katie would flip out over me liking George"

"Soooo you do like George but you can't tell anyone?" Winding up a thirteen-year-old on a Sunday evening was pretty lame but what can I say. I get to lie on my back and snooze whilst winding her up. Win- Win on all accounts.

"Nooooo! It's.... Geez are you thick!? You are the number one Beatle in the list of wonderful Beatles. Toppermost of the List-"

"Toppermost of the Poppermost"

"Pardon?"

"Just something me and the lads used to say in the old days"

"Toppermost of the Poppermost that's soooo cool"

"We had a call back system going, ya see. I'd say Where are we going boys?! And the other idiots would all holler back To the Toppermost of the Poppermost Johnny... Bloody hell those were fun days" Sighing at the memory, John grinned with a minute case of melancholy.

"Aren't your days fun anymore?"

"Well yeah they are, but it's pretty boring too. Like when we're caught in a car in an avalanche of fans... or when we sit about for hours while waiting for a performance. We can't go out, ya see... the fans..."

"So... you are kept holed up in a room"

"Yeah"

"And you can't go out because of fans"

"Yeahhh. Gets boring. More boring than school I'd hesitate a guess"

"And can't take a walk"

"Yeah no, that would be a drag" She is hitting every flipping nail on the head this one. Maybe she can tell the other hundred thousand gurls, and we will have some room to think in public.

"So... it's boring and tedious seeing all us lot lined up outside the studios...?" Frowning at the thought of being her crushes idea of a worst nightmare she sat up and bit a fingernail. This is terrible. Forever associated with annoying cows and squealing twits! Will he ever see Beth- the girl of his dreams... This is horrid!

Ok... take a breath, sit up slowly, mind the head spin from the blood rush. Eyeing Beth as she sat chewing her fingers down to her knees was torture. Oh, would you look at that, I do have a heart! "Bethy, Bethy, Bethy" God she's rubbing her eye-globe now. Waterworks are on the way. Cynnnnn! "Hey, none of that now. We just get tired that's all. We love you lot on the studio steps and all that... McCartney especially, thinks it's the highlight of his day"

"But you don't, do you?"

"Bethy... ahhh, I'm more a come once a week type of fella. Like a trip to the grocer! Much rather a weekly visit by the masses than everyday" Rein it in man, give her some Beatley love me do's and she'll perk right up "Actually, I think the fans and I both would benefit from weekly visits because, you know the old saying: the heart grows fonder yarda, yarda, yarda"

"So, if I was to visit once a week, I would be your favourite?" Sitting on the edge of the seat, ogling the stunning sunroom god of all things music, as he rubbed his eyes, was the closest thing to heaven eveeerrr. John Lennon- God's Gift. John sneezed then reached for a tissue. Sooo cute.

"Awww luv, you know you are already my favourite Abbey Lassie"

Giving into the urges she flung herself onto Johns lap. Cuddling him and smiling like a goon at how he made her, little nobody her, feel. He was so wonderfully wonderful and fantabulous! She kissed his cheek and blushed like a berry.

Finding the pair of arms that had snaked around his neck John drew them away while laughing at all her fuss and adulation in which she lathered him. Cyn never made him feel like this but then again feeling like this twenty-four seven would be bloody exhausting.

Nah Cyn was it for normal behaviour but a guy does like the way a fan can make him feel.

He grinned merrily back at the epitome of fan love- Beth.