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harrisongslimited · 1 month

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George Chapter of the Day. March 13, 2024

Greetings my dear tumblr and Beatles' families! Happy to announce I'm popping a foot into the fanfiction pool and seeing 👀 what happens. Your comments are more than welcome!!

All the important stuff:

Title: I Saw Her Standing There

Story Description: John, Paul, George and Ringo meet Joie Armagh, a strong willed American girl, who influences their lives more than they wanted.

Trigger Warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, drug references, adult situations and behavior, M/F smut, fluff, falling in love, tense arguments, angst.

**18 only please***

**This is a work of fiction. As such, it should not be read as a factual account of events or as biography. While many characters of the story bear the names of actual people, they and their actions have been imagined by the author and should be considered products of the imagination. This story is fictional and the events did not happen. It is written and re-produced here online for the purposes of entertainment only.**

Author's Note: I've noticed many fanfics have a Starrison or a McLennon flair, but this story will be M/F interactions including smut. It's just how I see them! Now if you're under 18, just move yourself right along. As I'm not there to patrol over you, just be strong and pass this up. I had to wait to read adult material and so do you!

Thank you to gif artists and photo owners.

Phew! That's over....

She was across the room from him; he could barely see her without his thick, black rimmed glasses. He felt her. Felt her as if she were standing within inches of him. His skin was hot. The light brown hair on his arms came alive – his stomach grumbled with a feral intensity.

Chapter 1

There was something about her. Something, he figured, she didn't know about yet, something she didn't know how to use – yet – but it made John Winston Lennon rearrange his slumped body to a nearly half-attentive position.

John watched her as best he could without his glasses. He was nearly blind without them, but acknowledged only to himself that he was far too vain to wear them in public. Besides, if he had to see something that important, Paul, George or Ringo would alert him. But at this moment, they were too interested in their own orbits to notice much.

She was talking to someone. Someone he didn't know – which he didn't care much about. From her body language, he could tell it was tense. She ran a hand through her short, auburn hair, and he continued to watch as she pointedly aggravated the man she was talking to.

This, to John, was great entertainment.

She turned in John's direction, although he couldn't tell if she saw him or not. It was nice she wasn't straining to scope out a look at the four of them , like they were the side-show freaks they felt like – or make a mad dash for the table to try to touch him like he was some bloody good luck charm. He liked that. Maybe she didn't give a shit who they were. THAT, he nodded to himself, would be refreshing for a fucking change.

She was, however, very pissed off at the little runt who was running the audition and had he been asked, John would have agreed with her. The whole scene was outrageously idiotic, as were their whole lives now, but he had danced with the devil and this was payback time.

The little moron in charge, whom John was introduced to but couldn't have cared less about, was a highly paid ass-kisser with a slimy handshake and badly manipulated crew cut. John might have the appearance of someone who didn't give a shit, but he took in everything. Every person, every nuance, every sight and smell and sound. Nothing got past him, unless he wanted it to. And the little California-tanned wild bird was giving it to the little pisser and John couldn't take his eyes away from her. It made him jealous and angry and aroused that she could do what he wasn't allowed to.

Brian was about to intervene, as the pisser/wild bird barney was holding up the whole show. He wanted to tell Brian to leave her alone, that she was practically giving him a hand job from across the room, but he also had an immediate urge to get the hell out of this place. He didn't like the United States. Too much fucking sunshine and not a decent cup of tea within 10,000 miles. But, as was his current circumstance, money, the promise of women and fame had too much a hold on all four of them for anyone to say "piss off" and head back home to England. Because as sure as the sun rose in the east, if one went home, they'd ALL go home.

John watched as Brian interrupted the moron and the woman of his dreams. He threw an elbow into Paul's side to wordlessly alert him to the situation. Paul lifted up his brown eyes and tried to force a smile.

"Another one?"

"No man. Totally different. She's cutting that audition manager a new asshole."

"Good. Maybe we can get the fuck out of here. I'm beginning to think I made a wrong move when I chose a band over plumber's apprentice."

John looked at Paul. "You? A plumber? I'd pay to see your ass rooting out some loo in the low rent district."

"Piss off....," he answered. "So what's going on?"

John filled him in. Ringo and George were both still half asleep, cigarettes hanging off their lower lips. No one made any attempt to pay attention when their manager approached them.

"Get those bloody fags out of your mouths," Brian said to them. "You are all clean cut, working class boys from across the pond – and well paid to act your parts. So sit up and pay attention."

John made an obscene gesture. Ringo turned his back to him continuing to smoke and George leaned forward and gazed at Brian with his middle finger slowly working its way up to his temple.

Paul, ever the diplomat, made a valiant attempt to appear slightly more involved. "Look Brian, we aren't trying to make your life hell, but this is getting out of hand. We've spent 2 hours evaluating 200 girls who want to have a role in this movie. Really, it doesn't matter. We don't even know what the movie is about. Just have that little audition manager pick out the best of the bunch and send everyone on their way."

Brian sighed and pulled up a chair. John knew they were about to be lectured from the Brian Epstein Guide to Managing a Famous British Band. John wished he could order about a dozen Scotch and Cokes and call it a day.

"Boys," he started.

Ringo, George and John turned the switches off and began cruising down the avenues of their brains. Paul pretended to listen and caught the gist of the whole thing.

They were famous. Yes, he remembered that. There were politics involved in being famous. Yes, he remembered that. It was sometimes necessary to go through these things for the publicity. Yes, he remembered that.

"Just like a politician. You have to, figuratively speaking, kiss the babies and hug the old ladies. Half these girls are daughters of Hollywood big-wigs. We can't piss them off. We must pretend we are gentlemen."

"Thank God we've had lessons...." John piped in. "Now shut the hell up and tell me who that bird is."

"Who?"

"The one who is still going off on the audition manager."

Brian turned and jumped up. "Oh shit."

John sat totally upright for the first time all day as he saw her coming towards them at a determined gait. The audition manager followed her, mumbling.

Brian was about to intercept her when John looked at him sternly. "Back off, big man. Let her have her say."

If there was one thing Brian knew, it was when to absolutely listen to John. He could manipulate the other three on an individual basis, but John alone or the 4 of them enmasse, well, that was the ballgame. He let out a heavy breath.

John stood to watch her walk towards them. He had seen plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous. He had HAD plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous, but this pissed off bird was in a class by herself. She was nothing like the girls he normally went after – nothing like the birds of his own turf. He was, at this stage of his life, attracted to "bee-bees", Beautiful, Brainless and Sexy chicks who knew better than to open their mouths for anything except a blow-job. After a brief affair consisting of plenty of sex and perhaps a late night supper or two, maybe an autograph or an album, it was less of a problem to diplomatically dump a BB than it was a hometown girl or some mate's sister.

John had his exit line and delivered it with the precision of Olivier playing Hamlet. He could conjure up this little boy lost persona, with a pained "this is going to hurt me more than it is you" look and begin his speech. "I'm SOOO sorry, but I've realized that I really DO love my wife and I don't know how to thank you for helping me see the honest truth. I have to go back to her. Your unselfishness and honesty showed me what I must do. I know you'll understand. I can't tell you what you have done for me. I will never forget you (insert name or not). "

And it worked. 99% of the time. The other 1%, Brian took care of.

All at once, she was in front of them. Directly in between Paul and George. John shifted in his chair to look at her.

"Look, I know this is all fun and games, but it's 95 degrees out there in the hallway and girls are dropping like flies. There's no water, no air. C'mon---hasn't everyone had enough?"

Brian walked over to her and extended a courtly British hand. "I'm sorry Ms. but you will have to get back into line or leave the audition. You are causing a disruption."

The young woman looked at Brian then beseechingly at the four English lads that were sitting before her. John, for once in his life, was speechless.

Paul stood and faced her. "We didn't know..." was all he could muster. She was not amused. Not amused at all with any of them. George turned his eyes toward her and remained quiet.

"Well, now you do," she said without emotion, then sighed. "Look, I know you are the biggest things to come out of England since Earl Grey, but it's really hot out there. Can you put an end to this?"

George finally spoke. "What are you doing here?"

Her brown eyes flashed at him. "Does it matter? I'm just trying to get those other girls out of the heat."

"Why do you care?" John blurted out, his cigarette smoke exiting his mouth.

She sighed and was going to speak when Brian returned with a police officer and the audition manager.

"Hold off...." John eyed him.

The police officer stared at the woman for a minute before saying, "Joie?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Yes. It's me. I'm just trying to get those girls out of the heat, Mr. Watson. Or get them some water or something. I know they are all probably daughters of movie studios, but they are melting just the same."

Officer Watson turned to Brian. "I know this girl. She doesn't mean any harm. And after all, she has a point...."

John and Brian exchanged looks. Brian knew it well.

"We will get the girls out of the heat and move this along...." He answered properly.

"Thank you." Was all she said. And she turned to leave.

She didn't give a shit that they were the Beatles. She didn't give a shit if she got a bit part in their first movie. She just didn't give a shit about them. What she cared about was 90 remaining strangers, struggling in the heat.

John was enamored.

The audition manager was sweating profusely. He was too old for this shit. He had been around the greats---Barrymore, Hepburn, Gable. These punks from somewhere in England might make every girl wet her pants, but all they were was trouble to him.

Brian pulled him aside and a plan was made to move the line of girls along so they could get a look at the Lads from Liverpool and Brian would pick the 15 or so they needed in bit parts. The others would be given a ticket to the final concert in the film. All Brian knew for sure is that there was going to be a concert at the end. And 100 seats were to be occupied by the offspring of Hollywood elites. The other seats were to be auctioned off to fans through the fan club.

This is what he knew....as the screenwriter typed away, tucked safely back in London.

"Mal...." John groused at their assistant. "get her number....."

#the beatles #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #beatlemania #Beatles fanfic #george harrison fanfic #i saw her standing there

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crepesuzette2023 · 7 months

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Paul McCartney, Celia Mortimer, Iris & Vi Caldwell & Mike McCartney: Sketches for a Coming-of-Age Novel.

All quotes from TUNE IN by Mark Lewisohn, except the last one.

[Paul] had two main girlfriends in the last weeks of 1962 and neither knew of the other. One was Celia Mortimer, 17, the strikingly attractive redhead from art school who designed her own clothes and was a big Beatles fan at the Cavern.

'In my first year at art College everyone was wild about trad jazz, but then word came up the hill that ‘things were happening’ at the Cavern; a few of us went down one lunchtime to have a look—and there were the Beatles. […] It was the first time anyone in Britain had the black polo neck, black corduroy, existentialist look. I instantly took their lead and started to make hip black corduroy things to wear.'

‘[…] Paul was attractive, intelligent, arty, all the things that appealed to me, plus he was good to be with: a genuine, gentle person who wanted to please. He was the complete opposite of John, who was snarly and grumpy and incredibly, incisively funny. Paul was the nice one. We started to go out, but things were still quite innocent. Because I lived some way out of Liverpool there weren’t many places we could go, except to sit in his dad’s front room or my friend’s front room, or the cinema—we saw the first James Bond film.’ EXOTIC NIGHTMARES

Paul’s other girlfriend was Iris Caldwell—Rory Storm’s witty, pretty, blonde sister; George’s first love; the 18-year-old daughter of Ma Storm, whose house, Hurricaneville at 54 Broad Green Road, was central to the Beatles’ late-night social scene.

‘He had a beautiful voice and puppy-dog eyes,’ Iris says, ‘and he was much more interested in me than I was in him. I wanted more than a tuppence-ha’penny guitarist of a Liverpool group.’ Iris’s professional dancing career had taken off: she was as busy as Paul, working summer seasons and London shows and touring around the country; they could only see each other when their diaries dovetailed, and just as Paul was with Celia when Iris was out of town, she was secretly going out with Frank Ifield. […]

Iris always knew that a big part of the attraction for anyone going out with her or Rory was the chance of extended time at Hurricaneville, to hang longer around her dad Ernie and especially her mum, Vi. […] ‘Mum never chucked anyone out,’ Iris says. ‘We were all late-night people apart from me dad, who the Beatles called the Crusher because he had exotic nightmares and ate household objects.’ […]

Mary had been gone for six years this October, and Vi Caldwell was one of the women who tried to fill the breach. ‘I was practically a mother to Paul,’ she said without boasting. She made him food and drink, took his stage-soaked shirts and washed and ironed them, and shared easy intimacies. ‘Paul used to like her combing his legs,’ Iris says. ‘He had really hairy legs and he’d come in from the Cavern all tired, roll up his trousers and she used to comb his legs. How ridiculous can you get? But he adored my mum and my mum adored him.’

Vi recalls: ‘Paul was very temperamental. He would come on occasions and would be terrifically friendly and down-to-earth, and on other occasions he would come and be rather aloof and we wondered if we had offended him, as if he was thinking ‘I’m being too friendly so I’ll keep you in your place.’ That was our impression.’

THRILLING IN A DIFFERENT WAY

[Paul] was without the others, but with Celia Mortimer…and a new song. It was Tuesday/Wednesday 23/24 October [1962], the Beatles’ sole two-day break of the year, and Paul decided to leave his car at home and have an adventure: he and Celia hitch-hiked to London to see Ivan Vaughan. Paul loved hitching: he enjoyed chatting to strangers and seeing himself in an observational role, but he’d only done it with George or John, never with a girl. Celia—intelligent, chic, a pretty redhead—made it thrilling in a different way. And it was to see the brilliant Ivy, his Institute mate and John’s boyhood pal. […]

The new song was I Saw Her Standing There, though it had no title as yet. Its melody and structure skidded into Paul’s head late on Monday as he drove back from a Nems Enterprises Showdance in Widness. This was a sophistication of delivery had never experienced, inspiration so excitingly hot that when he got to Hurricaneville he grabbed an acoustic guitar and started working it out. […] It was truly a magical moment for Rory Storm, who’d never seen anyone write a song before. Vi and Iris would always maintain that he asked Paul if he could have it, exclusively, and Paul said yes—but as Rory didn’t have a record contract it’s unclear why he asked and Paul may have said yes only to regain some necessary peace and quiet.

Celia: ‘We had an amazing time, just wandering the streets in the sunshine, looking at London, holding hands and having fun, and Paul had the melody of what became I Saw Her Standing There going round his head all day, humming and singing it and fleshing out the words. […] He said, ‘What rhymes with “We danced through the night?” and I came up with ‘We held each other tight’, which was really quite naff, but he used it.’ BACK TO McCARTNEY-LENNON

However, the song was completed only when he had a front parlour session with John at 20Forthlin Road. They tried out little bits on Jim Macs Nems piano but mostly used guitars, working ‘eyeball to eyeball’ just like when they’d first written together here as schoolboys. Mike took photographs of them sitting by the little tiled fireplace—important historic images, the only such photos ever taken—so here we see these two sharp ambitious tuned-in young man looking down at an old Liverpool Institute exercise book in which Paul has written the words, complete with plenty of crossings-out. John is wearing his black horn-rim glasses and playing his Jumbo Gibson, Paul is playing a cheap Spanish acoustic of unknown history. Another original, a McCartney-Lennon one, is taking shape right here, right now. BIG PLAYER CELIA AND THE OTHER McCARTNEY BOY

Celia Mortimer’s relationship with Paul ended in the last weeks of 1962. ‘As the Beatles spent more time in London, Paul was there and not in Liverpool so much, and our situation just fizzled out. There was no time for it.’ She went on to become a big player on the London fashion scene, with her own label and studio on Great Portland Street, just a long from where she spent a few hours with Paul in 1962. In between times, she went out for a long time with Mike McCartney and was part of the Liverpool poetry scene.

Mike (a Ladies’ hairdresser at the time): MY FIRST LOVE AND BOB 'FOLK RUBBISH' DYLAN (from The Macs, 1981)

One day my first real love, after mum, walked into the salon; she was one of a group of models posing for the Daily Post and Echo. I was brushing up the hair as it cascaded endlessly down on to the floor. I wasn't exactly the brushing up which excited her, it was the way I did it (isn't it always?). The brush was balanced, she later recalled, on the end of my index finger, the furthest point from my body and, with absolute disdain, I followed it across the shop floor.

Not being a Post and Echo model at all, but in truth a hungry student plying her body for money, she returned for the free evening classes where she became my model, and I discovered that her name was Celia. From a model customer she became a model model, and from a model model we became a model couple.

She was the first woman I gave myself to, and she gave herself in return. In her Husky Street flat we got lost in each other's body and mind; we swam together through many Liverpool 8 late nights and often into the morning, when she would get up to cook breakfast and put on records. I would just lie there, male chauv-like. One morning she kept playing a particular album which didn't impress me.

'Who's that Ceel?'

'Someone they keep playing at college . . . Bob Dylan.'

'Never heard of him.'

'Neither had I, but after a while he's quite good.'

"Ceel—my first real love (after Mum)." Photo by Mike McCartney.

#just me daydreaming #coming-of-age novel #the recurring themes drive me nuts: the chic redhead and the leg combing #The Liverpool Relationship Radiant #Mike and Paul and Celia #John and Paul and Ivy #Etc #Paul and mothers and Paul's complex character #These women were too good for him #paul mccartney #mike mccartney #I saw her standing there #the beatles

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rolloroberson · 1 year

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Sometimes you can actually see and hear the entire world change right before you. The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show on February 9, 1964.

#the beatles #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #john lennon #the ed sullivan show #beatlemania #i saw her standing there #til there was you #all my loving #she loves you #i want to hold your hand

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s0ng-of-the-day · 3 months

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Todays song of the day is:

I Saw Her Standing There by The Beatles

“Well she was just seventeen—

If you know what I mean”

#I’ve actually barely listened to the Beatles at all..#I’m just hyperfixated on a certain internet horror thing #song of the day #songs #spotify #the beatles #i saw her standing there

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saint-mona · 1 year

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Holy shit.

Found this 45 in my mother’s collection. It’s the live recording at Madison Square Garden with John saying, “Old, estranged Fiancé of mine, Paul….”

Amazing.

#the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #paul mccartney #elton john #i saw her standing there #post breakup #j&p

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floralcavern · 5 months

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“Well she was just 17! If you know what I mean.”

John, John what the fuck do you mean “If you know what I mean.”? John. This is serious. Wtf????

#The Beatles #John Lennon #I saw her standing there #Concerned #This is a joke

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ilovedig · 2 years

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The first attempt at "I Saw Her Standing There" from The Lyrics

(v. 1 p 327)

You're just seventeen You act like a queen Your.....are beyond compare So how could I dance with another When I see you standing there.

i'm sorry...

YOU ACT LIKE A QUEEN?

Also, totally gender neutral. It started out totally and completely gender neutral.

#I saw her standing there #the lyrics #paul mccartney #john lennon #song analysis

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ultra-francesca-mercury · 1 year

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december 26, 1963

The Beatles release their first hit single in the United States: "I Want To Hold Your Hand" backed with "I Saw Her Standing There." It's their first single issued by Capitol Records; within months the group becomes a Stateside sensation.

#the beatles #beatles #i saw her standing there #i want to hold your hand #almanaccomercury

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admiralgiggles · 5 months

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youtube

Two for one.

Fun fact, I’d heard the Tiffany version first because my dad had her album on cassette and I played the heck out of it. One summer day we were having a bbq in our yard and The Beatles version started playing on the radio and I had the nerve to ask who that was singing Tiffany’s song, because I knew nothing. My parents laughed so hard. Good times!!!!

youtube

#I saw her standing there #the beatles #I saw him standing there #Tiffany #cover songs #lol #Youtube

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gatutor · 11 months

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Stella Stevens

I saw her standing there

#Stella Stevens #I saw her standing there

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irmimimi · 5 months

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𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲!

｡^‿^｡

#irmi #happy birthday #happy bithday to me #hooray #🌺🌺🌺#send help #i saw her standing there #i knew she would come

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harrisongslimited · 16 days

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George Chapter of the Day

Chapter 15

I Saw Her Standing There

Trigger Warnings: adult situations and conversations, swearing, drinking, sexual tension, angst.

**18+ only please**

Chapter 15

By the time George and Joie got home, they were both exhausted. The kittens were happy to see them and purred and rubbed their furry faces against their legs. Joie got down on the floor with them while George went to open the boot to get the luggage.

He stayed outside by the car long enough to have a cigarette and enjoy the silence. Joie filled his every thought. Where were they going to go from here? How was he supposed to be so close to her and not have her? He had no intention of rushing Joie into anything, but he wanted her so badly. His life was such a circus—to be with her would quiet the inner voice, settle the inner turmoil, silence the rattled nerves. She was a long, romantic walk down a silent path while the world whirred around them.

Since meeting her, he could no longer just take a woman to bed and then leave. He wanted permanence, steadiness, someone who wouldn't leave his side when the going got tough, and he was willing to wait for it. He'd waited a long time to get to this point and could he wait a little longer to make sure Joie loved him?

He ached to make love to her...he wanted her ever since he saw her at that audition months ago. He wanted to sleep next to her, wake up with her in his arms. He wanted someone to share his life with. He wanted her lovely body and full breasts, her amazing torso -taute and sleek and, he imagined, tanned to a golden bronze, her long legs wrapped around him as he buried himself inside her, her brown eyes looking at him lovingly as he thrusted his hips over and over and hearing her purr to him.

George closed his eyes for a second, trying to pull himself out of his fantasy but what would she want him to do?

"Joie," George said, hesitantly, as he walked back into the house. "where do you want me to put your bag?"

Joie knew she had a decision to make. She looked up at him from the floor. "Just leave it. I'll put things away later. Right now, I just want to be with you."

"You can be with me and still be in the coach house," he said in a low voice.

"Let's just not worry about the coach house for now," Joie answered him, tenderly. "We'll figure it out later....."

They both laughed at the comment that George always said to her. George took her bag with his and walked into his room, setting them both down on a chair. Then he went to her and sat on the floor.

"It's ok," he said quietly, petting the kitten that crawled up into his lap. "It's ok, whatever you want. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not seeing anyone else. I care about you, Joie. I care about your happiness, your comfort. Nothing is going to happen between us unless you want it to. I'm a patient guy. I just want your honesty....that's it. Just be honest with me."

Joie held a kitten in her arms. "I missed you. I missed everything about you. I .... I thought about you all the time and couldn't wait to have you come home and kiss me."

George smiled. "I thought about you all the time too. And we can take our time, Joie. We don't have to rush anything. I'm not going to lie to you. I want you. I want to make love with you. But not until you're ready."

"I know that. I want to be with you. I'm just....it's just.....I've never been with anyone before," she finally told him, her chin dipping down to her chest, her eyes flickering downward.

George was quiet for a moment. He never suspected. She had kissed him so passionately that he never for a second thought..... and she was so beautiful...and funny and kind....why didn't she have a boyfriend?

He ran a tender hand into her hair and feathered his thumb over her cheek.

"What's that?" she looked at him.

"Joie, I'd never do anything to rush you or hurt you. But I want you to know how I feel."

Joie placed the kittens back on the floor and leaned towards him, kissing him sweetly. "I know," she answered. "Me too."

George rose from the floor and went to make sure the kittens had food and water. Then he went to Joie and extended his hand. She looked up at him as she took his hand. "I missed you very, very much."

George nodded slowly, his eyes soft and sleepy, and walked with her to his room pulling the bedspread and blankets down. "I'm gonna go wash up," he announced. "and we'll get some sleep. I just want to feel you next to me."

Joie nodded. She understood. She went to the other bathroom and washed her face and changed into pajamas. When she came back to George's bedroom, he was in bed. He scooted over and Joie got in, laying beside him. She turned and put her head on his shoulder spooning into him.

"Goodnight, baby," he said, kissing her forehead.

"Goodnight, love," she answered peacefully.

.........

She awoke to hear George calling to her just above a whisper. "Coffee is ready."

She took a deep breath and stretched. She slept better than she had in months. "Coming," she answered.

Joie drank her coffee and George drank tea as the kittens played in the kitchen with a ball of yarn.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," he began slowly. "About Ireland."

Joie nodded. "Ok."

"We are going to meet John and Cyn there. We are trying to avoid the press or we will have no privacy at all. It seems that no matter what we do, they find out somehow where we are going and what we are doing."

"I know. While you were on tour, there were hourly updates on the BBC."

George winced. "I'm worried about you. I'm used to it. Cyn and John are used to it. If you can ever really get used to the intrusion....but if they see us together, you will never get a moment's peace again. You are walking into a hurricane. I can only try to protect you from it, but I can't promise you won't be drawn into the nightmare."

"As long as we're together, I'm fine," Joie said. "I'm American. I'm tough."

"It will wear you down, baby. You have no idea how it will wear you down."

"I've talked to Cyn and Maureen. I understand. And it's ok. I'll take it as it comes."

"Well, first off, we are going to take different planes to Dublin. There will be a car waiting for you under the name Mary Bates. That's your name. Mary Bates. I'm Thomas O'Hara. The car will take you to the hotel and you sign in as Mary Bates. Mary Bates has her own room. Thomas O'Hara has his own room. John and Cyn are signing in as Mr. and Mrs. Jack Smith and they are getting a suite. We'll stay in the suite after we get there."

"You mean we are paying for 2 rooms and a suite just to avoid the press?" Joie asked incredulously.

"Yes....and it still might not work," he answered, shaking his head. "And Joie, you can have your own room if you want. There's no pressure. I'm okay with whatever you choose."

Joie didn't hesitate to answer him. "I want to be with you, George. I want to be right next to you."

..........

They spent the day quietly, George playing the guitar and working on a song, Joie doing laundry and cooking. The phone rang constantly, one Beatle or another. Cyn called her so they could discuss what clothes to bring to Ireland and make a suggestion concerning getting a discrete and reliable cleaning lady.

Joie took the kittens to the vet where they would be boarded while they were gone. She signed everything as Mary Bates and paid in cash.

At night, Joie crawled into bed next to George and curled into him again. He held her tightly.

"It was a wonderful day," George whispered, kissing her forehead.

"Yes it was," she answered tenderly. "I hope we can have many more just like it."

"Me too," George told her kissing again.

"George...."

"Yeah?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

"What's that, baby?" he whispered, pulling her closer.

"I know....I mean I think I know....well, I sort of know...what I'm trying to say is that I know many girls go on birth control pills, but I don't know anything about that. And I...."

"You don't have to go on birth control pills if you don't want to." George told her. "We'll manage. We'll be fine when it's right."

"I know we will," Joie said closing her eyes.

"Good night, sweet baby," he hummed, savoring the feeling of her in his arms.

George struggled to fall asleep, even though he was dead tired. Truth be told, his balls ached and he wondered if a quick shower would alleviate the problem. He felt like a teenager after a make-out session and maybe a hand on her breast. Antsy. Irritable.

Trying to think about something else but failing, he and Joie would be alone together all night in their private room in a castle in Ireland. John and Cyn were across the suite on the other side...and she said she wanted to be with him and asked about birth control pills. Maybe tomorrow..in a romantic room lit by firelight, they would not be a mystery to each other ever again.

..........

By the time they all arrived at the castle, it was dark outside and it looked like they would be thrown in a dungeon and left to rot. Inside was warm and inviting, a huge fireplace burning enormous logs, lovely old tapestries on the stone walls, keeping the heat in.

They met John and Cyn in the suite and it was, by far, the most beautiful place Joie had ever seen. The smell of the green meadows outside snaked into the castle through cracked stone and morter. Joie could smell all kinds of wild flowers, living in the cold pastures around them.

The suite was enormous, with 2 huge bedrooms off a main living area. Enormous bay windows opened out onto a large balcony, where a glass topped table stood. There were vases of flowers everywhere and the air smelled crisp and clean.

Each bedroom had its own bath, with a large claw-footed bathtub. The beds were king sized and covered in soft, white Egyptian cotton sheets. Blankets and down comforters were at the foot of the bed, one a burgundy color, the other a dark navy. Each room had a small fireplace that was ready to be lit. Joie had never seen any place like it and she couldn't think of a more special place to give herself to a wonderful man.

They shared 4 bottles of wine with John and Cyn before they begged off to go to bed. Joie and George went out onto the balcony for awhile to finish their wine and enjoy the beautiful, cool Irish air.

"This is a beautiful place," Joie told him, curling into his welcoming arms. "How did you find it?"

"Brian did. He's travelled all over the world. I think he stayed here once." George told her, and noticed it was getting colder outside. "Should I go in our room and start the fire?"

Joie nodded. They walked back into the main part of the suite and into their room. Joie opened the drapes to reveal their little balcony. She opened the door as George took a match to the papers in the fireplace.

Joie grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and stepped out onto the other balcony. "Come out here George. It's beautiful."

George stood beside her and Joie wrapped them both in the blanket. They stood there for a long while, silent, wrapped together in the warmth. The bold full moon illuminated the carpet of green and large old oak trees over to the side.

Joie looked at George and reached up to kiss him.

"Your nose is cold..." George teased her. "Let's go in. The fire is warming up the room."

They walked back into the room and stood before the fire, still wrapped together in the blanket. The only light was from the fire that danced around them. Joie was relaxed and warm.

George kissed her again gently. Joie laid her head on his shoulder and breathed in that soapy clean that she had come to know so well. She looked up at him and knew how much she loved him. She was never so sure of anything in her life.

Joie unwrapped them from the blanket and stepped back slightly. She started to unbutton her blouse when George stopped her.

"Are you sure?" he whispered to her.

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