Fingers drumming on lips, she worked them hard.

Thinking, thinking, thinking.

About the past weekend- about what may or may not happen in the future. Paul McCartney was one fine piece of-

"Morning Jacqueline"

"Oh, hi Gary"

Oh god, she's sighing like the weight of another fella is on her. Jacqueline out of sorts for another is not terribly nice. Not nice indeed. "Errrr, there you go lovely" Handing over the photograph like it wasn't an invasion of her privacy yet again, was rather easy.

I'm a photographer. It's what I do. I see beauty, I need to keep a memento of it. Her profile is a dream. Lips- chin- cheekbones, drop a tendril of hair from above, wisping it gently to frame her features the snap becomes art. Pattie is young, immature- you can still see school in her but within Jackie lies an understanding of the way the world turns, deep thoughts, etcetera. All rising to caress her features, gifting them with the weight of wisdom, maturity, knowing. It's sexy. It shows. Her eyes narrow as she checks me out to see if I really did partake in yet another candid of her. Softening, she gazes back at the print in her hand.

"I'm quite pretty I suppose"

Before another word is uttered, she's back-

"Must have been a freak shot" Jackie's laughter fills the air and Pattie rushes in because Jacqueline's laughter, belly laughter, is mesmerizing and fleeting in its gift, not at all common. Although her laughter at the capturing of her beauty, like it was a misprint, is not at all amusing.

"What happened! You didn't give her a funny pill did you Gaz?"

"No! What are you on about? Funny Pill?"

"She doesn't laugh like this unless she's hallucinating"

"You are bonkers"

"Well she's hallucinating if she's laughing and it's not me gifting her my unique comedy"

"I didn't take a funny pill Pats. Gary here just presented me with a double exposure of you on me. Here- look"

"That's you Jacqueline G. Not you and me. You"

"Your beauty is..." Was muttered as Pattie began rubbing Jacqueline's shoulders down as if she was trying to massage the news of Jackie's beauty into her.

"Freaky?"

"Lovely"

"I'm a mum, not a beauty"

"Oh my goodness, Jacks! You are all of it. I'd give Georges right pea-nut to have the depth you have, the emotion that seeps through your features from within"

"It's called exhaustion Pats"

"Well Paulie banging you all the time, would do that to a girl"

Clearing of an uncomfortable throat occurs and both girls stare at Gary... as he stands beside them having his heart ripped to pieces by a non-present Beatle.

She's shagging him. Of course, she is. Oh, that's where the bloody look comes from- she's being gorging on a bloody Beatle. Her look is one of sheer indulgence. Whipping back the picture from Jackie to re-examine the evidence was torture. My love. He's satisfied her. He's quenched her. He's shagged her silly and giving her that look. Damnit. It looks decisively like the look of love.

Dropping the image to the card table Gary turned tail and left the room. He'd have to think about this. How was a mere mortal able to trounce a Beatle. The cad isn't about all the time, is he. No- he's off touring the world with that shambles that he calls music. Jacqueline couldn't possibly want that sort of chaos in her life. No, a girl like her wants, no needs, a steady man. A man that can be there in her darkest hour. A man that can hold her every night.

But that look...

Did you have to say that"

"What?"

"That Paul's shagging me silly"

"I said banging but let's not quibble over the details of your vaginas satisfaction shall we"

"Pattie!"

"Come on Jacks, you can't not say your wotsit isn't smiling"

"I suppose that's true"

"There now, nothing like a good Beatle bang for a girl"

"He is rather good at it"

"Prac-"

"Do not say it!"

"What? Practice?" Pats grasped the photo for another look. Gary had captured Jacks thoughts as if she had written them out across a lined page. Content, shagged silly and loving it.

"Look, he's practiced now. You, my dear... get the perfect don't you! The willy wisdom Jackie! The penial pleasure poke. The supreme shaft. The crowning c-"

"Stop Patricia! You are so crass"

"I was going to say knock"

"You so were not!"

"Ok you got me there. I was going to say c-"

"Pattie! Stop!"

"You are no fun Jacqueline G"

"Look" Changing the subject from the crassness falling unbidden from Patties potty mouth Jacks fetched the parcel to show Pattie the surprise. Sunshine beamed from within, she couldn't hide it, it seemed. Paul had been in her thoughts; as she, his.

Pattie turned the item around in her hands, switching it back and forth to check its contents "A bit immature, don't you think"

"You're telling me about immaturity, that's rich of you. It's a children's book Pattie, you goose!" Snatching it back it was hugged to her chest. Paul had really come through for her.

"Oh, it's for Bethy??"

"Yes!"

"Oh! Oh!.. it's the book set she wants for Christmas! Give me, give me!"

"Yep" Handing the set over for Pats viewing pleasure the pièce de résistance was happily tugged from her handbag "Paul managed to get hold of it. It was pretty nice of him. Look"

"Oh, a little card, may I open it? It doesn't have sexual positions drawn in the middle does it!?"

"No, it doesn't have sexual positions drawn in the middle! Geez Pats"

"Just making sure! Don't get your panties in a knot"

"Will you just open it"

"Rude polaroid?"

"No! Give it back if you are going to be silly about it! Polaroid- rude drawings! Come on Pats!"

"Alright I am now opening the non-rude drawings, or rude instant snap, card. Oh, that's nice- boring but nice"

Jacqueline.

Thank-you for being you.

Happened across this in Bristol on our last night so got it on the bus for you quick smart. Hope Bethy likes it.

See you soon. P

"Is it mad that I miss his kisses Pattie?"

"They are finally free tonight, you know. They work so hard those boys. And no, it isn't mad- it's nice. He makes you feel nice"

"He called three times one day. I had ever so much trouble trying not to let on to Beth who was on the telephone. And he... he says the sweetest things too"

"Paul's got a gift alright" Plonking down onto the footstool Pats socked Jackie's chin softly. "He likes you my girl"

"Sometimes..."

"Sometimes Jacks?" Pattie tinkered with Jacqueline's stockings, pinching them out with her manicured fingers, then smoothing them down her leg.

"Sometimes I get a feeling. It's rather silly really. Sometimes he makes me feel so good I think he's-. Nah, its daft... Straight after he does that he calls back and tells me, excitedly mind you, all about the girls that rip his jacket and attack him with Christmas zeal. I don't know how to- Like he's...

"Like he's?..." Tinker, tinker, pull, pluck.

"Like. Stop it, don't put holes in my stockings! Where was I?- Oh, ummm, like he is counteracting all the 'feels'. Usurping all the preciousness of the phone call previously made. Like he's had a though that he was being too heavy with me and that he had to remind me, and perhaps himself, of everyone, i.e the female population of the world, vying for his royal hotness"

"Nasty"

"I get it. I get that we aren't a normal pair going about the place, being couple-y. But when he butters me up it's the most wonderful yet scary proposition to my heart. And... He's not mine but I want him. I'm so silly Pattie! I want a man that runs around like a boy in a worldwide, twenty-four hour a day, candy shop of females. Him ringing, making that second blasted call all but deflates me but also grounds me in the mud of reality too"

London's Playhouse Theatre, November 1964

"Bloody hell Neil why'd you take the route past Buckingham House! It's so slow this way"

"It's a red light, its midnight and, oh look, a solitary bus and one other motor on the road"

"Don't be narky Nell"

"Sit back down in your seat, you untidy git. Don't be so impatient. Look, you have made her wait weeks mate, one more hour won't make her any less likely to shag you. I bet she's out of batteries too. I stole her extra value pack of them last time I was round there" Pausing in delighted thoughts of stealing Scarlets portable power source, he grinned like a committed, sorry, contented, loon "Soooo no issues competing with her electric banana"

"It's official. You are disgusting Winston"

"Thank-you! Do I get a badge? I need the Badge of Disgust it's got like a fella vomiting on it- super cool" Sighing John couldn't help not feeling sorry for poor, poor Paulie. He gets to shag, I get home hours later and Cyn is on her back snoring the Philharmonic Orchestras version of God save the Queen. Hmmmm, hammm hummm humhumhum hum.

"Ugh. Alright, I'll bite.... Really, she has a..."

"You haven't met him yet then? Yellow, brown spots? How could you not, it's right there...on her night-stand. Tell a lie, third drawer down behind the giant box of tissues.. ick" Shivering in feigned disgust but slightly turned on at the thought the grin blessed upon Paul was both maniacal and thoughtful. "Not met her bed yet then?"

"Christ, I don't know how- but no. The sofa, living room rug, kitchen, back of the front door..."

"Back of the front door. Do tell"

"We were... Oh shove it up your kiber I'm not telling you lot nought"

"I think we know a lot already, right lads!?!"

"What!?! What's going-"

"Go back to sleep Rich. Paul's being fresh with John again"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not, it was John!"

"My humblest apologies Richy. John was being fresh with Paul"

"George shove it!"

"Right!"

"Wrong!"

"No-one was being fresh with anyone in this motor! And they never will!"

"Would you lot shut up! I'm trying to catch some shut eye so I have a smidge of energy to bonk Mo into next week. I do not need you lot putting nasty thoughts into my head of boys being fresh"

"That's a euphemism that"

"For what - bread?"

"No, you punk. Fresh as in horny"

"Derrr"

"So not fresh as a daisy then"

"No, not fresh as a stinking daisy RingO. Go back to sleep"

"I'm trying to"

"As opposed to an analogy"

"Shut up!!"

"We're here. Get out the lot of you! Hang on- just me"

"Get out then!"

"Don't have to be nasty about it Neil"

"I'm tired, I've got three more dictionary's to get home and I want you out- yesterday"

"That's impossible"

"Yeah, it's today not yesterday"

"No, it's impossible... George could never be a dictionary and I'm a thesaurus, everyone knows that" Ahhh, the sweet smell of Johnistic wit.

"Goodbyeeee"

"You know... she may not like you turning up on her doorstep in the middle of the night when her kidlet is mere inches away from finding out you are there to do dastardly things to her mother"

"Goodbyeee"

As the motor takes off the thought of embarrassing Macca was too much temptation, John the Fantastic opens the window and yells, top of his lungs:

So sorry that you're leaving

This motor won't be the same

We'll never forget you err...um...err

Sorry...what's your name?!

But seriously Paulie, we'll miss you

That's very true

Adieu, Cheerio, Auf Wiedersehen

All the best Paul...

To you, and your screw!!

"God help me John, keep your damn voice down" Lingers in the cool night air as Beatle boots tread ever closer to heaven's gate.

***

The tapping was incessant. The shutters were closed, the laundry door too. It could only mean one thing-

"What are you doing!?!"

"Tapping on your door, ringing your bell, was about to tap on your wind-ow sill. Oh!

I'm gonna knock on your door, ring on your bell, Tap on your window too!

If you don't come out tonight when the moon bright.... I'm gonna knock and ring and tap until you do. Hello luv"

"Shush!"

"Bloody 'ell. Folk pay good money to hear me sing"

"Well go warble somewhere else then!"

"God, you're sexy as when you're grumpy"

"Paul"

"Yes luv?"

"Good night" The door was almost shut but he had her number, a foot got jammed in good and tight "Ouch"

"Move your foot then!"

"Don't you lub me anymore?" Paul's childish pout cranked up a thousand-fold and Jackie looked up and down the dark silent street then over her shoulder.

His lips beckoned; his pout called. His fingers played with her dressing gown knot. His eyes pleaded; his body neared. His breathe held as she contemplated. As she had a little natter in her 'ead about his entry to her little flat. Her breath caught as his hand found entry. Sliding, moulding, smoothing, squeezing. She asked the heavens for patience, for more moments, but mostly for the wait to end, for his lips to drop to her own.

Paul McCartney stood on her stoop, his fingers carrying on a search, a hide and seek if you will. A pinch here, a warming rub there... She leaned in. He made her forget about being patient. Her arms surrounded him, his groan of relish fed her, drove her to press her tongue through his lips for more... more of everything that he gave her on the stoop of her tiny flat.

Her back against the open door, his knee between her legs. The feeling so glorious and wanton and alive. A moth to the flame. He was the moth, or was she? "Mmmm, Jack I love midnight snacks"

Sweeeet "Jesusssss" Paul McCartney's sooo hotttttttt.

"Have mercccy" Fingers splayed through her hair. Holding, gripping her just right. She loved the feelings of handing over the power, the thought that someone could take over and just 'do'. Just take her hand, tiptoe her up the stairs bypassing the creaking floorboard on the fifth step, feel along the wall in the muted light, make a right, close the door, turn her on, her round, drop down to kneel before her, touch her, turn her on more, make her forget, make her drag her fingers and grab hard.

His lips dragged as she ran her nails long.

The long wait was over, she bit her lip.

He dived, she quivered.

Her legs gave out. Paul McCartney turned her into a mindless puddle. She had missed his lips, his take charge and do. Oh, and his do, do, do...

Gloriously, he did. Spent and spaghetti she was. But he had plans, she sensed his purpose. She relished the thought.

Beth.... Beth..... whispered in her thoughts somewhere far away.

Be quiet. Let the secret be theirs. Let him do all those things he does so well. The candlestick was close. His lips pressed upwards, her night gown now disappeared like magic. And then she was airborne, like an angel, higher than the sun.

He dropped her on the bed heavily, but she didn't care because it was like an unwritten code.

This was it.

No more hesitating.

On elbows Jackie watched him peel.

Jacket.

Some buttons on his shirt.

A naughty glance, a hesitation that drove her absolutely wild.

Teasing his zip, testing her, he let the teeth click- click- click down so slowly, ever so slowly.

Her mind screamed for him to hurry, that this needed to be sooner rather than later. Loads of crazy slipped into her thoughts, crazy for doing him, crazy for letting him tiptoe up her stairs, crazy for thinking she could control how much of her heart she could hold back.

The clunk of belt and trousers was softened by the rug.

She made a grab for the tie he wore, pulling him down to her, wrestling the shirt down one arm just as the last button was un-cinched. It would have to do. His body needed to be against hers. His lips needed to be moving in unison over her own or across her skin marking it, heating it all 'til she went ab-so-fabso-lutely mad.

"Jacqueline are you needing something of me?"

"Yessss"

"What would that be sweetheart?"

"That damn candlestick of yours"

"Oh darlin, let me take care of that for you"

Ohhhhhyesss"

"Shush darlin"

"Yessssss"

"Looks like it's my lucky night. Lips locked and ohhhhfucyea-"

The silence, the sweet, sweet silence was broken by fragments of lovemaking, sounds captured in each mouth that dined upon this feast. He had never been one to be noisy but this was torture. Wanting to hear her desire... Wanting her to hear his. All he could gift her was gut deep moans requesting more of her swaying, more of her pressure, more of her luscious sighs and creamy thighs.

The climb to the stars left her heart pounding like a gatling gun, the weight of his body left a big impression. He lay flush, heated and breathed as she breathed. The night tangled with Jackie's senses just as his skin intertwined with hers. One. One more moment of pure bliss to tuck in a secret pleasurable place. Her fingers drift afield, scoping out the places she could reach. If there truly was a heaven so be it; but this here, right now...

This was her version of heaven.

Paul shifted, easing a little to the side and slipped right along beside her, snuggled warm, deep and tight. His hand tender and achingly slow then stopping complete as it found her hip.

Jackie tried to stay alert, like a fox being hounded by unseen foes. All her life, it seemed, she had to stay alert for every little, and not so little, thing around her. Yet somewhere, in the middle of he needs to leave and let's just snuggle a little bit more, Jackie fell asleep.

Paul's lips fell to her forehead touching her skin briefly. His heartbeat, slowing, from the journey she catapulted him on. He was heartily spent and, as predicted, this bed was heaven sent. In the middle of where's me pants? and I could get used to this, Paul too, fell asleep.

~~*~~

"Mummm" Darnit there isn't any milk left. Poor cornies, poor chocolate powder. Guess half a glass and spoon standing straight up and down was the only right and proper thing to do "Muuuuummm" It's ten AM, has she popped to the market? Should I wait? Nah look at that, stiff as a soldier. Ha! Mmmmm, chocolate heaven.

Jiggling the front door handle as the chocolate milk swayed stiffly in the glass, the next discovery was made... The doors' unlatched, so maybe...

Nope her handbag is still sat over there. Took her purse then maybe? Only the purse, no drawstring bag for the groceries either?

Nope, purse still in bag with one pound fifty peeeee. Well then, where is she? Not like her to laze about in bed.

Books are for bedtime is mothers motherly motto of late.

Load of codswallop!

Books are for whenever I want. So, maybe mummy has decided on a sneaky read in bed this morn, it is a bit brisk out. Perhaps she is on a fictional adventure to... where is that oldie book set? Geooorrrrgia, U S of Aaaa. Hang about, she'd be finished that Gone in the Breeze, oops, Wind by now. Maybe she's snuggled down in the blankets with that Darcy fella instead? Wonder if she managed to locate the Little Bush Maid bookset. They are sooo good and nothing like Britain. Sunshine all the time and hot, and horses and cute boys too.

Pausing at the top of the stairs...

I want Australia, I'd like to go to the Outback... but maybe not meet a snake.., or spider...

Kangaroos sound cute though.

Should go to the library and read up on the lot of them, I suppose.

Probably totally fiction, not a true word in the lot of it! I'd be ever so cheesed off if that was the case.

"Mummmm?!?!"

Paulllllllll???"

"Mummmmy!"

"Beatle!

"McCartney!"

"Paul Beatle!???!"

"Mummmm!!!!!!!!!!"

"What?!?!"

"Shit"

"Don't swear"

"Christ"

"Lords name in vainnnn"

"Its bloody ten 'o' six why am I awake?"

"Mummmm? Arrrr Mummm why is.. Mummm!!!!!!!!!! Ewwwwwwwwww Yuck! That's grosss. Ewwwwww"

"Paul are you covered!?"

"Of course, I am! And nothings gross by the way. Geees- Don't look at me Beth. Shit, ah kittens, can you not get any closer? Go on your mother's side gurl, for Chri- Christmas sake! Jack say something would you"

"Out!"

"Who me!"

"No me!?"

"You!"

"Definitely you"

"Not you, him. Out!"

"But there is a small problem with that now, isn't there Jack"

Ewwww his trousers are hanging off my finger!

Paul McCartneys trousers!

I'm definitely not touching any more than necessary, the belt loop was plenty good enough to see what was what!!!

Ohhhh!

Where's the camera!???! This could be the scandal of the century I could make millions. "Mum- camera?"

"Bethany Gordon! Noooo"

"Beth, come on, hand over the threads. There's a good kiddo" Sitting up against the head board watching Beth's eyes bug and Jackie squirm under the sheets was surreal and too early in the flipping morning. Geesu- Gosh. Stop! No inner monologue word exchange please. I imagine John would do that. Inner mono everything to get the best snappy line. "Beth! Yes, those are my underwear, please toss them over. There's a good kid"

"Ewwww white boxers!" Ewwww yuck ralph ~ vomit face attached.

"Arrgggghhhhh" Sounded from deep under the surface of what remained of the bed linen.

"Mum?... ummmm Mother. Why's a Beatle in your bed??"

"Oh Beth, come on, you really need to-"

Sheets flung everywhere, well not everywhere; most were cast in Paul's direction.

"Stop!! Not another word.... Oh, hello Bethy, good morning darling"

Her smile was too wide, her inconsequential utterings of good morning, too innocent in the presence of the dawns rays. Escapecially as it was ten 'o' blasted six!

It was the wild hair, the eyes flipping from man to child in wild worry, swinging orbs of imminent disaster that showed her real terror.

The panic of a mother being found out to be, well, a woman... With a flipping Beatle in her bed!

Paul and Beth's noggins swung in unison toward Jacqueline. Like twins looking at a lunatic.

Good morning...

Good morning, she says.

This was disaster, this was a meteorite slamming into her bedroom at speed. This was... why'd I say good morning????!

Good morning... Good morning indeed!