With a little luck, our limo arrived before we shredded each other to pieces. A great accomplishment considering the tension that always mounted before we traveled under stressful conditions. Well I suppose that it wasn't always stressful, but when one of us was ill or fans got out of control we would become very edgy and almost impossible to deal with and this was no exception. There was a small group of fans at the airport (I wondered how they managed to keep it so private?) I assumed that most fans must have thought our trip was canceled because of me quick fright this mourning.
"Flight 357A is arriving on schedule and will be here at 5:15pm at which time Pan Atlantic Flights will resume its scheduled coarse to Paris, France."
Well I suppose our luck must really be in high gear cause there always seemed to be a delay for some reason or another.
"Now boarding flight 375A bound to Paris, France which will be departing momentarily." Man that loud speaker could really get on me wick but at least I had a nice window seat and wouldn't get bumped by the drink cart every time it went up and down the narrow walkway.
"Please fasten your seat belts flight 375A destined for Paris, France is now departing. Your estimated time of arrival is 7:00pm where the weather is 60 degrees F." Me eyes drifted toward the runway as we made our steep climb up to the sky. Pop went me ears as we ascended beyond the view of London's high buildings. Tiredness rushed over me body and the exertion of the day only weighed them down further as I drifted into a melodious slumber.
Me mind slowly drifts back to the famous dream only this time the woman's face turns from dark tan to pale white. Her hair shrivels from its once vibrant color to a distinct gray before falling off. I turn me face away wishing not to see her turn into this morbid creature but she follows me eyes and guides me with her wrinkled arm. She drags me to the sea but I resist not desiring her company because of her lack of beauty. The further into the ocean she walks the more beautiful she becomes, but when I look at me reflection I notice I have turned old and unattractive. I rush to her but she vanishes with the growing waves. I sit on the beach with tears and remorse wanting her, needing
her, and loving her but most of all missing her. I look desperate enough to take me life as I grasp the situation. I beg me body(to) wake up from this horrible nightmare. A shake rattles me into reality and I thank the source even though me eyes still fail to focus where it came from.
"What is it? Where am I? Is she alright?"
" Are you feeling well, Macca?" John asked in a still and quiet voice, "I saw you crying and sweating, that must have been one hell of a nightmare."
" I'll be alright, probably not meself with all the traveling on such a stressful day." Why had me dream been so perplexing(? It) it had always seemed so happy up till that point, but now that I had dreamed most of the end, it seemed frightening. Maybe it ended that way cause I have been dealing with too many excess emotions lately. Well definitely something to ponder, but not now since it looked like we were about to land. I stare at the other three lads who put away their playing cards (George appeared to have won most of the money) and begrudgingly put on their seat belts.
"We now have arrived at Paris, France where the local time is 7:05 pm. We hope you enjoyed your flight and thanks again for choosing Pan Atlantic Airlines." We gathered up our belongings and slowly pushed through the isle to exit the plane. Walking like ants we filed out one by one as we neared the staircase a dull roar of screams escalated. News of us arriving on time must have made their way to France because the usual crowd was their only with a lot more posters insisting that I Get Well Soon'. The lads and I rushed toward the first waiting car as Mal and Neil rushed toward the second with our luggage and instruments. As the seas of fans slowly became less dense, I stared out at the window gawking at the marvels of Paris like in the movie Funny Face.
To me disappointment however we arrived at the hotel we would be calling home until February fifth. Mal and Neil started speaking with the hotel manager trying to make some last minute adjustments because I would need a handicap accessible room for a few days, as I penetrated into thought. Hmmm today is January 14 so that's oh it doesn't matter its about 3 weeks and a day if me math is right. I ignored me previous deep thought as I am wheeled down the hall into the lift. Alas the tenth flour, John was growing very impatient from all this moving about we had done in the last three hours.
"Here it is, room 121A and 121B, they have an adjourning door so you lads can go into each others rooms. Paul and John in A, George and Ringo in B. Now Brian insists that I keep you lads in line but as long as I can't hear what's going on from me room I don't give a bloody hell," Neil explained.
" Alright," we agreed begrudgingly in unison.
" Well I am exhausted so I am going to take a kip."
" Uhh Paul it's a little late for a kip being 9:00 pm and all so why don't you just go to bed like a good lad and I will spend a little time with Ring if you don't mind," John stated.
" You know what I meant, Lennon. But it was a good suggestion all the same so go to it."
" I'm off to Club Eve, I heard there are some "nice" birds there if you know what I mean," George said coolly.
"Well have fun, me and John will just sit around and do nothing while you have a good time all by yourself."
" Yeah I wanna come to." John retaliated.
" You can't you know we would easily get spotted if the three of us were together." John gave him a pouty face and Ringo turned his head away as if he wasn't speaking to George.
" Allrigh' I'll bring you both a lass if I can but no guarantees."
" Well that's one thing to look forward to," John snickered.
" Perhaps for you but how am I going to sleep with all that racket going on next door?"
" Oh, your just jealous cause George isn't bringing you back a bird. Well I suppose it's for the best since you have a "girlfriend." I am sure Jane loves it when you sleep with numerous anonymous women when she's not around," Ringo smiled.
" Lay off will ya. John can you assist me into some night attire and me luxurious twin size bed?"
" Of coarse mademoiselle, I always heard the girls of Paris were lookers," he winked.
" Enough of that and just help me already."
By the time me head it the pillow I was in the listless land of the sleeping. I began to dream once again the happy and angelic dream me nights had become accustom to without the horrible endings of the plane. I convinced meself that they were exhaustion and frustration not the true end of the dream but if that wasn't than what was. Hmmm, an acute observation maybe the dream was about someone I knew the face was familiar. Or perhaps I had dreamed it so many times that I thought I knew who the person was. Damn I didn't have the slightest clue one way or the other but either way it didn't matter much it was the purpose of the dream I was more interested in. Well I had a lot of theories on that but me favorite was she was me soul mate and perhaps she dreamt of me too. Call it crazy or romantic in either case it was definitely the most unrealistic theory.
I began to stir at the sounds of passionate sex across the hall in the connecting room. Well I suppose George was right about the birds at Club Eve. When I reached full consciousness I noticed George wasn't the only one having fun. I drew me pillow over me head trying to drown out the noise but found this tactic ineffective. Than a hard presence slowly crept upon me the noise was definitely having adverse affects especially since the last time I slept with Jane must have been oh no the last person I slept with was that bird in London the day after the New Years Party I spent with Jane. It was torture completely unfair why hadn't George offered me one. Oh that's right you git you were sleeping. My hands slowly slipped between my legs after all I wasn't about to waist a perfect opportunity until I drifted back to sleep.
With light creeping into my hotel room, I found it difficult to stay asleep as I pulled the blankets over my face. Soreness loomed over my body as the newfound pain from the day before lapsed over my defenseless body. I tiredly glared at the clock to the left of me as I make out the somewhat blurry numbers, 10:15. Wow, I thought, it has been ages since I got the opportunity to sleep in this late. Guilt surged over me as I thought of the lads doing their interview without me. We were inseparable most of the time even if we did get on each other's wick from time to time. True friends really but I guess no one will ever be able to capture that essence which I do not know how to
describe. Perhaps only us four lads can describe it but then again no one else but us is truly living it. So far the attempts by the press have been pathetic almost laughable. My stomach growled for food as my mind begged for attention. I reached for the phone and dialed room service.
"Bonjour," the voice blared through the line.
"Uhh hi do you speak English?" I asked warily.
"Oh of coarse, how may I help you?"
"Well I would like to order some cornflakes for breakfast and another pillow to room 121A. If it isn't too much trouble."
"No trouble at all sir after all that is what we get paid for. We will have someone send it up right away."
I lean back into the pillows that surround me as I get a better look around the room. Nothing much to brag about; 2 twin size beds, a bathroom, a black and white tellie, and a closet to hang your clothes in. The window led out to a small terrace but I couldn't get a very good view from where I was lying especially with the curtains have closed. I picked up my bass and fiddled with the strings but not much was coming to me at the moment. Irritated and lonesome I gave up when I heard a knock at the door.
"Do come in," I said as properly as I could. Hoping that my politeness would make them stay longer, but then again I did have the advantage of being Paul McCartney. I knew that Brian had made prior arrangements with the hotel to only allow responsible, disciplined room service employees to work for our room but I had a feeling a little persuading could convince them that I was worth bending the rules a little.
"Here is your breakfast, sir along with the pillow you requested," the cute petite French girl whispered softly."
"Thank you," I replied nonchalantly, "Do you think that you could stay here a while? I am awfully lonely all here by myself and we are such famous guests I don't think your boss would be too upset." I waited for the magic of the McCartney charm to take affect on the defenseless creature that barely knew enough English to argue with me.
"Well only on the condition that you speak with my boss personally. I admit I would much rather entertain you than the work I normally do," she stated plainly in almost perfect English.
Stunned but relieved that I would be able to carry on conversation with this girl, I grabbed the phone and dialed the number to get in contact with the manager.
"What is it now," he complained in an irritated voice obviously preoccupied with greater things than I.
"Hello my name is Paul McCartney and I am in room 121A"
"Oh Mr. McCartney, we are more than glad to be of assistance to you. What can I do?" he interrupted.
"I was wondering if Annabel from room service could spend some time with me while I lie here in bed. After all, I am sure the lads wouldn't mind saying a few nice things about this hotel if I could have some company instead of me just sittin bored all by meself." I knew I was sure to win his approval after all good advertisement from famous clients meant more money in the long run."
Your manager insisted that you stay out of trouble but I wouldn't want you to be cooped up by yourself so I think we can make an exception," he said smilingly.
"Well ta then and thank you ever so much for your generosity," I replied in a rich prudent but slightly sarcastic tone of voice. I smiled at my victory as I got a better look at my prize.
She was definitely worth the effort. Her hair was beautiful, short but mod and in a beehive style. I did not care for the black color but it was a definite contrast to those sea green eyes with a medium amount of black eyeliner around them. Her makeup was applied lightly very where else but around the eyes. She was in modest attire much to my dismay at the thought of the French maids you see in the pictures. I would have preferred a blonde any day but this was much better than an afternoon all alone.
"I assume that I will be your guest for the present; will I not?" she examined.
"Ahh a keen examiner we are. So tell me are you originally French? You speak such wonderful English."
"I was born in France but my parents came from Spain, which contributes, to my dark features that you were examining earlier. They were taught English by local missionaries when they were in their teens and insistent that I be at least bilingual. So now I know French, English and Spanish not bad eh?"
"Well I know a bit of German from back in the Hamburg days when our band was still working on our sound. I can hardly believe the first time we went to Hamburg was only four years ago."
"I suppose you must like to travel, you are always mentioning places you have been to or are going to. So optimistic which is a rare quality among the youth of our generation."
"Your not much older than me ya know."
"Well maybe not in body but my soul is older than most people I know. I know who I am and what I believe therefore I am one step ahead of most women my age." I felt inferior at that precise moment. She had so much knowledge and ideas, her maturity was greater than all the women I had seen over the years combined, and I grew distaste for it as many people do when they do not understand something. I still had an urgent sexual need that must be diminished and for appearance sake only would I be courteous like.
She ran her fingers through her bangs and looked over at the mirror to make sure her hair was still up and turned back to me with that serious look protruding over her face. It spoke volumes with its quietness and sincerity. I began to doubt my bad intentions for this innocent creature. The heart does not have control for long however as the animal instincts rush back to mind, the testosterone building, and the urges growing begging for release. A slick smile slid over my face as I rested my head in her lap encompassed by hormones I found my lips slowly press against her warm lips of perfect pink. She did not resist my kiss much to my surprise as my tongue pressed for deeper contact. The gates would not open much to my dismay as I slowly parted for a gasp of newly discovered air.
Broken, slightly bitter, and confused, I breath in to speak but am cut off by her melodious voice, "A kiss is a dear sign of affection but one with that amount of passion and no depth is only a gesture, it's as flat as saying hello."
"You have no right to say there was no feeling in that kiss," I said trying to manipulate her with the guilt she had previously bestowed on me.
"I am not foreign to the ways of the world Mr. McCartney, in fact, I take great delight in many of its newer more liberal beliefs but I will never compromise the name of love for a kiss with no meaning but used as a passage to fulfill the lust inside you."
"That is an unfair accusation and you know it. You are lucky that I am BIG enough to look past your poor judgment on my motives and character because I like you so much."
"A cat could sound more sincere than you but I commend you on your performance all the same, I am sure that very line has gotten you very far before." I was so angry I could have killed her at that very moment had I the strength to lunge. She was reading my mind as if it were a book. Did I open the window to her soul and just trample over the flowers on the sill? Jealous, confusion, anger, and bitterness all pressed their weight against me. I could find no hope, no solace, and no reason to argue any more. Nevertheless, I would be wrong; no, I couldn't be wrong it would be a determent to the male dominance if she got the best of me.
I quickly let the tears well up in my eyes and dare not stare directly into her eyes. She may be able to read my mind but the fake tears were a contraction of the heart, which even the wisest cannot see. My total avoidance of eye contact was working, the guilt spread across her face as she began to doubt herself and interpretation of my confession.
Sympathy took over however and she laid a comforting arm around my shoulder trying to ease the pain she had caused. My eyes red and puffy made simple eye contact as our hearts danced faster. I knew she put her faith in my false front and now was the time to act. I was about to reach up to those pastel pink roses for lips when they bent to mine and sucked away the dryness as both lips turned to one. As we deepened into each other's mouth I slowly stretched my hand through the side of her hair hoping not to mangle the beehive hair do.
The passion escalated further until I found myself stroking her back in a back and forth fashion longing to unhook that brazier which constrained her. I didn't have to wait long as she unhooked it slowly tantalizing me. By the time our make out session had gone into more serious foreplay I thought the exhaustion would never leave. I pushed myself past my physical limits any ways needing to release all that pent up desire. The sex was so fantastic I lost track of time and nearly froze with fear when I heard the lock to the door opening and the sound of my fellow Beatles laughing. Annabel needed no guidance as she quickly dashed to the bathroom attempting to make herself look presentable and gather a few towels to a lot the suspicion my friends were bound to have.
"Hey Macca, great to know your finally up and about," John smiled.
"Yeah you sure slept in late but we decided not to wake you since you needed your sleep," Ringo added.
"Hey, your breakfast is still here. I know you're a late sleeper but the day I can sleep into noon is the day that John learns manners," George remarked.
"Yeah I did sleep a little late today but the doctor said I should so no harm done eh," I said trying tokeep the nervousness out of my voice. As if things couldn't have been more awkward, Annabel walked out holding some towels from the bathroom.
"I got the towels like you asked Mr. McCartney and if there is anything else I can get for you I would be more than happy to help you," she replied in a friendly tone.
"No, that will be all thanks," I spat out as she gracefully walked out the door.
"So how was she?" John snickered.
"By the looks of it I would say our little Paulie did pretty good being injured an all," Ringo joked.
"Well than I guess he's gonna need his breakfast after all," George quipped.
" I wasn't going to say anything but that was definitely more than a taste of heaven," I said smoothly.
"I don't get it, the married ones and ones with girlfriends always get more birds," Ringo said confusedly.
We all had to laugh a little because of the truth in that statement. It always seemed like a thousand girls were interested when I was going steady with someone but the moment I broke up with them no one was interested any more. I guess its just one of those things in life no one can explain. Lightning struck my brain as I realized this was the twentieth girl I had slept with since I met Jane. I would have to add it to the list when I got home. Call it egotistical but it was more of a joke than anything else that John and I shared. I knew Jane would kill me if she ever got a hold of that list but it was in a safe place and I was too cocky to think that she would ever look for it.
The pit in my stomach was so large I thought that I would die of starvation as I slowly put the first bite of cereal in my mouth. It was cold and soggy but I didn't care as I quickly devoured the bowl. I looked around to see what the others were doing. George was watching the tellie, Ringo was playing solitaire, and John was strumming his guitar attempting to pick out a tune. Now that I was no longer hungry, I preceded to pull myself out of bed so I could get a better view of the tellie that entranced George.
"Whoa hold on Macca you could really hurt yourself if you try to get up on your own," John said with concern as he abandoned his guitar.
"I'll be fine," I mumbled. A surge of pain leapt through my body as I sat up and I quickly lied back in the more comfortable flat position. John moved me so I could watch the tellie and went back to playing the beginning of a catchy tune. A half an hour later, my patience was wearing thin and I was ready to kill him. I knew I had to be tolerant as a fellow writer but I swear if I heard that riff one more time I would throw the guitar out the window. As if reading my thoughts he set it down and went to the phone to dial room service about the hold up on our lunch order. Brian walked in holding a briefcase with a solemn face that usually meant something was wrong.
"I know I originally agreed that Paul wouldn't have to perform with you lads and that we would try to move back the concert dates a few days. Unfortunately, the promoters don't feel the same way about Paul's health as I do and insist that all things remain as planed. They almost tried to pick a barnie with me about Paul missing the interview this mourning."
Everyone looked aghast at how uncaring those heartless promoters could act. I didn't know if I had the strength to perform but it looks like I don't have much of a choice. One day we would have the upper hand with the promoters and they will be bowing down to our every whim. Well not until we make it big in America but I knew we would we just had to.