A/N:

It's been a slog trying to get back into a rhythm. As always constructive criticism welcomed as I want to make this the best darn 'Hot Paul' book on Watty- hehe, no pressure -ugh!

So I lay my chapter before you. Offering it up to you, the 'goddesses' (and gods?)  of Watty to administer my medicine before I delete it all and start all over again!

Now, without further ado, onto your normal programing.

Previously on She's so Heavy.....

Beth was dropped in Johns lap and Paul was spinning wheels in the Lennon's gravel  driveway. Jackie's hoping her day is looking as fine as the boy beside her...

They zoomed away together, the car fled, racing toward the day. Toward the freedom she would be granted. The twenty-four hours of just being......

Of just being her.

She craved it like Christmas, all the wonderment and surprises, all the joy. The ability to look after no one but herself. Well herself and Paul. Thankfully he wasn't going to go grabbing her and lurching her about to see and be pleaded with, to buy:

✔️The next magazine emblazing with Beatle people.

✔️The next simply must listen to record.

✔️The next bag of cavity creating lollies...

Yes, he wouldn't push nor prod. Nor pout and throw a tantrum in the middle of the supermarket for the never-ending next.... Everything!

Although she wouldn't mind Paul begging.

Kneeling on the ground, facing her, looking adoringly up at her....

Pleading.

Pleading for her touch, her skin, her lips.

Pleading for her to drive him insane. Begging for release.

Oh.... how she needed release.

His hand cupped her knee.

Such an innocent touch, his thumb then rolling over her skin in a sensuous circle. Her heart beat flipped in anticipation. His thumb and warm fingers ducked and dived, caressed and stroked and her skin tingled. And that place.... That wonderful place between her thighs screamed for more.

Much more.

Yet he never moved higher, the good boy in him, holding his mettle. The good boy driving the car safely along country roads to address unknown. She had no idea whatsoever where she was going and it was glorious. Very liberating in fact.

The good boy smiled over at her and she blushed. He was just so... Paul. Wonderful and handsome, full of pep and vigour and teasing flirty grins. He shifted the gears like a pro, racing through them up and down, hand leaving her knee with a squeeze and returning with warmth and a light touch like it was coming home.

Corners rounded and delightful pretty steams crossed.

The countryside was sublime, like an artist had created the picture just for her. Blue skies, lambs and ewes grazing, long horned stout cattle munching the cud, some stood, some lazily settled on the ground.

A horse busted out into a clearing and raced alongside the car.

Head high, tail flying, ears pricked and forward- happy, proud. Pounding the ever so green grass under hoof eating up the field til it reached the end... Stone pitched fences rearing in the animal's way to a freedom it yearned, and the horse could but only slide to a stop, twirl and buck, and look beyond. Beyond, to more fields of green and rolling hills that curled this way and that.

The car weaved down into a valley so wide and sparse. Not a farmhouse in sight. No shops or garages. Nothing. It was heaven on earth.

Paul slid through the gears smoothly and came to a stop beside yet one more pretty stream.

Babbling away, the water tumbling and bubbling over the rocks just below the surface. Willows and oaks hung heavy, lush with leaves reaching across the small endless fountain. Here, in the dell, the towering trees must have been protected, the winter chill not settling in enough to make the leaves turn and fall in time for the impending winter.

"Come on luv- Picnic"

Waking the woman from her thoughts Paul climbed out of the motor and lifted the boot. Picking up his guitar out of the case and a wicker basket covered in a red and white checked cloth.

"Its like something out of little red riding hood that" Jackie tried to peek in the basket but Paul was having none of that, quickly scooting away from her with a deep laugh, he passed her his acoustic guitar and slammed the boot shut.

"Walk with me Jacqueline"

And she did. Very carefully holding the guitar, making sure she didn't brush the shiny timber up against the long reeds and grasses that reached from beside the path as it meandered along the stream.

"You know... My knees knock when you say my name"

It just blurted out. Ugh, she was just like every other female on the planet that wanted him, that screamed for him. Paul blessed her a smug grin from behind his fag and she wanted to clip his ear. So cheeky and perceptive he was. "How does it feel to have the whole wide world battling to knock down your bedroom door?"

That's it Jackie, remind him that he can have any other beautiful creature on this planet.

I know!....... Why don't you remind him you're a mother next. Go on... remind him.....

Argh!!

He halted. Almost slamming into his back but saved at the last moment. Momentum stalled, he gazed upward in question.

Paul turned about, blessing her with... man.

Blessing her with those features that made her die from want. Eyebrows raised and cigarette taken away, a plume of cigarette smoke blown from pursed lips off to the side of them. Should she say something? Was she supposed to say something? He seems to be waiting for me to....?

Argh. I don't know...

Jump him? No. A guitar is being clutched and wicker basket lugged.

Oh no... now he's smirking the bugger.

"Whole wide world...?"

"Pardon? Oh yes, whole wide world. Millions"

"Lads and Ladies?

"Excuse me!?"

"Well whole wide world implies lads and ladies"

"Are you mad!?"

"You said it"

"Don't say those sor-....." He's backed me into a naughty corner, hasn't he. Of course, I know about those types. Well I've heard of such dalliances, seen strange things at some advertising campaign shoots I've had the pleasure of attending, and wondered what type of life was lead. I haven't had friends that.... that did that with the same....you know....

Oh, look at that face, what I wouldn't do to knock that worldly-wise look into next week. So bloody smug, he knows it all doesn't he. Been all over, seen all kinds of things. Well then Jackie lets send him pale shall we ... "Oh yes, lots of boys would looovve to love you. Take a real fancy to you, I expect"

"Cheeky. I don't swing that particular way thank-you very much"

"I thought you would stutter for just once! Blush at the very least" Curious disappointment ravaged thoughts. Just once I'd like to crack him, make that 'all round, tuned in, hip man second guess himself. Yes, and possibly blush or frown and arch his fantastic eyebrows in addled confusion.

"I know a lot of gays and queers luv. Good people but none of them have what I want in my bed" Eyes twinkled iridescently with teasing fairy dust thrown in for a laugh. All glittering and sparkling down upon the innocent, never been outside of my square, me.

A bona fide flirt he was.

What-ever the situation, he could spin it on its proverbial ear and make it a flirtatious affair.

And here she was.....

Begging him silently to tell her what he wanted in his sexy bed. Then asking.

"And what would that be..." Bait taken, lip bitten, knowing full well her knickers stood no chance in the onslaught of Paul McCartney's next carefully chosen, and immaculately executed, words.

"Curves and soft creamy thighs leading to heaven... Nice tits. That, when I suck 'em, they pucker and the lucky female arches her back and presses that pretty arse of hers up and into me for more. That's what I like... in my bed" Spinning about, he continued on up the dirt path as if nothing had happened.

As if her lips weren't licked moist. As if butterflies hadn't taken flight in her tummy, as if her breasts hadn't heaved in anticipation.

And, as if she wasn't about ready to lunge, strip him naked and straddle him.

Her knickers were definitely melted.

Fingers trailed through the long grass as she stepped forward blindly.

Her fingers being the only means of keeping her on the ground. For surely, if she wasn't touching those swaying wands of green, she would rise, up, up and away.

Sated by his words.

Imagined heaven was within her reach, a few measly paces ahead.

Her eyes cleared and an arse so fine it should be framed, and thighs so inviting she should be arrested for leering, swayed ahead of her. She was here, in the wilderness with a delicious morsel of man and she would take every god damn thing he gave her.

Jackie quickened her pace.

Twirling on his heel, he grinned.

That look was back he noted. Hungry for skin, impatient for attention.

"Please take a seat... anywhere" Casting an arm forth, Jackie took in the area he presented. And, of course, she took a gluttonous eyeball of him in too.... Only right to take in the scenery, wasn't it. Whatever that scenery may be.

Large boulders bound three sides tight, the fourth side was that perfect gurgling stream which coursed, chuckling away with a merry melody. Bubbling and churning over smooth grey stones, pushing and splashing as it fled down the hillside. The view was endless and theirs alone. Short emerald green grass thick and soft filled the area, moss covered rocks in patterns, and filled the underside completely emerald green.

And sunshine streamed warmth down upon them.

Jackie stood openly watching him.

The picnic rug was a compatible size for two. Kneeling, staring up at her she got her wish. Well nearly. He wasn't begging but he did tap the spot beside his leg for her to sit. And sit she did, after handing over possession of his guitar, flopping happily beside him. With thoughts racing away... she couldn't wait to be tangling with him for a long afternoon of debauchery.

Fingers strolled his arm as he reached into a never-ending basket for sandwiches and fruit cake and small mountain of grapes. Napkins and Coca- Colas, a camera, paper and pencils all appearing as she dusted her touch along his forearm, ogling the dark hair that resided there. Her other hand wandering off on its own adventures.

"Oh no you don't. Hands off zippers missy"

"But I'm hungry" She pouted her very best pout and found a small kink in his armour.

I've got plans, remember.

Fighting for control over her ministrations was mighty.

With masterplans fading she ran a finger solidly over that zipper. Nails were soon scrapping the zips metal teeth, sending a vibration through his betraying genitalia. Holey shit.

Griting down hard on the teeth in his head. He had this planned, right?

Yeah planned by the looks, as far as the time it took for one hungry Jacqueline, to run her finger up his zipper.

So not planned far enough then it seemed.

"Here's the deal. We eat, we talk, then we unzip"

Bloody jeezers her pouting is like a pure string of lust to my manhood... Tugging it mightily hard.

We need to eat and talk- fast!

"Sandwich. Coke. Enjoy" Handing over rations with haste, Jackie giggled at a contoured face and I had to scowl good naturedly back. This was a freedom I imagine she didn't see terribly often and here I am, with front row view of her in a new light. Jacqueline set free.

Maybe find the true woman beneath the Beths' mum before being sated finally with her singular type of magic.

That horny magic vixen.... licked her bottom lip wet. She was teasing him, and it was happily entertaining to see the lust form and bubble just below the surface. Teeth bit down on that wet pink skin only to release the edge at the slowest, most sexy arsed pace imaginable. She was definitely trying to kill.

Perhaps this was Johns plot all along. To take me out. To take me out of the equation, so the rest of those three blighters had a chance at a bit of skirt. Cause, if I do say so myself, I do like to monolopise skirt.

"Pleaseeee eat"

"You're no fun Mister McCartnneyyy"

Kissing her hard, kissing her speechless was pleasurable. Although fraught with the danger of giving in completely to her wiles. Alas, the plan was hatched- kiss hard and leave her breathless. Only hope I can stop. In time. Soon. Break the hold. Soon.....

There.....done! Mission accomplished!

Fifteen minutes to eat and talk.

Watching everything. Staring openly.  The sandwich was eaten with a pout and secret grin.

She was vixen yet mouse.

Shaking fingers plucked up the Coca- Cola bottle from beside her but still she smiles coyly, and lifts the drink to her now, cherry red, lips. She might be somewhat quelled with the well-executed kisses but the lust wasn't completely dimmed.

Her eyes are dark, stormy and somehow, impatience shines through. Might have won this round but she was ready, waiting to pounce.

"So.... you and Beth moved down from Norfolk recently?"

"Ahuh"

"Like a year or a few months?"

"Eight" With a grin she waited for him to frown at her lack of wordy replies 'Ahuh' and 'Eight' just wouldn't cut the mustard with an inquisitive Paul, she knew it. "... months"

"Oh right, not long then"

"No"

"Her dad ever visit?"

Why is he here, in the beautiful place, with this question? Poised for an answer?

It's a battle to stop the head wobble. The 'no, stop speaking'  that needed to fall like an axe and cease the movement in this direction of touchy subjects, didn't drop onto his ears.

"No"

An anguished pout befell lips like a large heavy boulder, but still he pressed.

"Ever?"

What do you care?" Anger pushes ever closer and hackles raise. Protection of that part of myself sends the sharp retort back and threatens to derail whatever there is between us, here on the hillside.

He doesn't need a life story. He's a blip, he's not my eternity, or indeed, my endless freedom. He will be gone and my life will carry on. But while he's here, right here, right now, I want him ferociously.

And yes he's sex at it's very finest. He's sweet. He's flirty. He's as hungry as I am when our bodies meet. And as thirsty as I feel when we touch. Yet, all signs point to mere moments of fun.

He's marking time and I know it, he knows it.

"I care"

"It shouldn't matter Paul we are in this for a good time not a long one, right?"

"Ouch"

"Oh, come on. Like you want to hang around. I understand Paul, I can't have a relationship and a teenager... And you don't want one"

"Ouch times two"

"Just admit it"

"You intrigue me"

Just undo your pants Paul and we'll forget this conversation ever happened"

"Bloody hell Jackie"

"Here let me help..." Fingers grasped the zip and for some reason Paul fought to resist.

A microsecond.

That's all that stands between one side of an emotion and the other.

A line somewhere had been crossed and all I could do was watch myself destroy this moment, this day;  and for him to look on helplessly as if the question was innocuous.

Well it was, in Paul's eyes.

With a bounce and stumble I was up. Arms flexed and suddenly hugging oneself seemed a good option. Feet, now devoid of shoes, perched close to the stream. I should scream. I could. No one would hear.

"It was just a question"

Why hide. Youth and first love was, and is, always a harsh introduction to love or lust, or a little of both. But it was her first love, even if it wasn't Peters. Turning about, battling with bottling it all up, or telling someone. Because no one knew the whole tale. Eyes only slightly feeling wet.

Not her father, not her departed grandparents and not the doctor that finally ripped Bethany from her body in a tangle of limbs and wails.

And most certainly not Beth.

Paul never moved nor spoke yet his eyes spoke volumes. Pleaded for her to tell him what was wrong. His hand reached, then dropped as fingers grasped her body even more assuredly.

Arghhhh. Just tell him. Have it done, get it out! Exorcism at its grandest.

Make the boy that loved fun and games, cringe and run from the shiny sickly sweet sunny afternoon he had made..... as she begins to make it rain.

Reluctant and cynical words drift quietly over him "I didn't know... but he was on leave from the army" Back straightening, his eyes widened knowing what she was saying was hard to get out "...We had a few weeks together before he went back to his regiment." Take a breath, exhale, eyes raise to the heavens as memories splash and flood all over. "I must have been a week or two along pregnant when he left I suppose, I didn't know, I was a kid" Shrugging at the folly was the best response to all the idiocy of that child "He certainly didn't bother to be careful either."

Never moving, eyes wandered over her face. There was no disgust or attempt to stop her speech, so she continued.

"He was older of course, nearly nineteen, or so I thought at the time" Looking over the countryside set out before them, every atom was shaking inside. So stupid she had been, so young. And he took the innocence ever so easily. "I let him touch me... I let him take more than I should have. It was very nice to be. To be wanted. To be kissed, touched..."

Hearts beat.

A few seconds tick by.

"He's dead. Never made it back to the barracks. Head on with a truck apparently, he was on a motorbike. His wife told me he didn't suffer"

Watching Paul frown and think and let those last words trickle in was interesting, in a macabre way. Would he think she was a cheater, that she was a victim or a tramp. Tears ran and it suddenly occurred that there was truly a need for him to understand and perhaps he would even give comfort... Tell her she was, and is strong, and more importantly, ok.

Right now, him understanding, was paramount, even essential;

And a lump rose in a clogged constricted throat.

A voice changed gear and heightened, breaking in the finality of the sentence "I had a little tiny belly full of his baby.... and his wife clung to me as she sobbed at her husband's funeral" Breathing stuttered as the heart and voice bared all complete. Paul's hands were there then and ran all over, up and down.

Sweet lovely words sprinkled like sugar into her ear. Coos of affection and understanding filtering into her brain. His big hands swooped over her back across her shoulders and came to settle holding hands between them as the stream gurgled away behind. Kisses dashed tears away and the sob of relief leap from twisted troubled lips, lurching into his arms, she felt safe. His coos blissed her, sweetened her thoughts and she knew at that very moment she wanted to try to make this more. Make some sort of forever.

Yet Beth hovered. A teenage girl with a love of the Princes of Abbey Road so mighty she may see the turn of events as disgusting... or would she see her mother happy. See her mother smiling a little easier and her mother being cared for. Or would she think her mother would be taken away from her... It was all too much and too hard to worry about. Here and now, was all they had. And she should satisfy herself with that.

Sitting on his lap snuggling was nice but the downer of the tears was ruining the whole afternoon.

This was freedom and it now latched on with chains, and anchored it in tears. Paul's hand clutched tight, his other spread wide in comforting embrace across my back. Resting on his shoulder my tears dried and I packed away the pain. I laid my lips lightly against his throat and my fingers began combing the thick hair that lay at his nape. The mood was too heavy, he would cast me adrift, I want him. I want his smiles and the cheeky smug boy to come back "Paul"

"Hmmm"

"I want you"

"You do?"

"So much. Right now"

"Now" Not one to be told twice I'll take the offer and make love to her slow because fast is too much, hard is too brutal. Slow, I hope, will draw her back to happiness.

And Jacqueline G should never be anything but happy. She deserves it like a diamond deserves sunlight. She deserves to glitter and feel pretty. She deserves freedom.

She lay perfectly still for this fool on the hill. A fool that chose to think Jackie could be ditched after a time or two. I like her, geez, I like the kiddo too. Pressing my lips against her skin as the buttons gave way to white lace and promises I tucked my never sated impulses away and let the mellow mood that surrounded her, rule. Soft curves and lace lay bared beneath me and I did everything in my power not to let her know she now had me. Had me in the palm of her hand.

Even if she had me in the palm of her hand for no more than next few moments, today, perhaps even the night ahead....

And then my head, both of them, could wake my traitorous idiot heart to remind me the whole world called my name... Right now, I will give a piece more of myself because truly, there's plenty to go around.

Anyway.

She would laugh for sure. Tell me I was deluded, tell me to go have fun at the club, conquer the world and forget all about her. Tell me she was too busy for love, too old for me, that I should remember she had a teenage daughter.

Hell, she would likely try every trick to stop me closing in actually. So, I'll be open and then the door can close and life can roll on.

Me- my way, head in the clouds, fans at my feet. And her meeting each day like the last with nothing changed.

Like it was all a dream.

Faint silver streaks ran over her belly. What are they coursed through my brain as I traced them with my thumbs, kneeling over her as she took my bowed head and ran her hands over my scalp, fingers through my hair. The lines slivered shiny, like seams of precious silver. Her hand stilled and she laid a warm hand over mine. Arrr pregnant.

"They're stretch marks from-"

"I know... from being pregnant" moving again with her hand on mine I traced the path of her love, for Beth.

She had grown a baby in her belly. She was a woman. She was so mature and worldly in an entirely different way to me.

She was lovely. "Lovely"

"No, they are not"

"You are. All of you"

Sunshine is bright.

Too bright for young men to see old ladies war wounds, I've come to realise.

Self-consciousness ripples thoughts, gathering speed. Faster it flies- saggy, lines...old. Reaching, grasping for the shirt that languishes by my sides I'm not noticing the one thing I should. Him. His eyes. Interested, stormy, still looking at me like I'm a steak dinner. Really?... I'm baked beans on toast at best.

Fingers pull my shirt aside and he traces those damn disgusting marks again. Like they're precious, like they're gold. If I traced lines on him, they would lead to his ever-present flag pole which I should, without all the fanfare of the changing of the Queens guards, be swinging from currently. His movements have slowed. He is still. Water gurgles in the stream, a swallow darts and dives to the left. A sheep calls. Still.

Silently Paul leans into my vision, he has been here before- in my dreams, in my hall, my staircase, against the kelvinator® (haha) -with the droopy seal, and of course, the pièce de résistance, on my living room floor.

So why should I be bothered by a few little scars, when the skin he really wants and the places he really, really wants to be, are located north and south of the disaster zone. He kisses a lava line, licks a tongue long and flat. His vision tunnels to my skin, fingers squeeze and press. Oh right ok. l
Lust registers belly deep. Nose pressed, tongue strolling along the big shiny line low on my belly. Left to right, cold to scorching south.... Come to mumma.

And just like that, I'm in the present.

In his hands, lips hot, tongue pressing urgently.

"Beautiful" Whispers across my skin and dreams are made.

Lonely nights ahead for my one on one entertainment I will be able to draw upon these whispers, and of course, thoughts of his dirty, dirty kisses. Seeing him stretch, lift and oh my god, insert his flagpole, and mark my body conquered, is the stuff of dreams. I'll use the delectable Paul, as he appears before me.... Deliciously sweaty, plump lips pressed in concentrated concern focused on my complete pleasure, concentrated on me, forever. "Good?"

"Excellent"

"Faster?"

"Harder"

"As you wish"

Wishes come true, if only for these moments. Darling Paul takes my lips hungrily and hope I don't taste like baked beans, although steak wouldn't be much better.

"Honey"

"Mmmmmmm honey" Honey drizzling across hot skin, particularly Paul's smooth hot skin, now that's a crumpet.

But apparently, I'm not listening.

"You" He kisses me.

"Taste" He lifts me.

"Like" He presses into me.

"Honeyyy"He loses himself in me..........