Beatlemania!

I woke up the next morning alone in the cabin. John’s bed was messy, and there were watery footprints from where he had pottered about after having a shower.

I groaned, stretching out the sore muscles that were curled up and over-used last night while dancing. I sat up abruptly, and I felt the blood rush to my head and I had to steady myself before getting out of bed.

I stepped directly in John’s footprints daintily, making my way to the shower. It was hot this morning – I felt it through the window. Suddenly, I realized I was on a movie set, and I hurried outside to get my fill of it while I still could.

The skirts and blouses I had packed from London seemed far too corporate and stiff for this sweaty, romantic setting. I dressed in one of the few dresses I had brought – a bright yellow, knee length one – and left the cabin.

I spotted the cameras immediately, and I hurried over, my hair long and tickling my bare back. They were just about to shoot a scene, and John gave me a wink before turning back to the cameras. I watched for a while, but it was repetitive and too hot to stand in the sun.

Instead, I wandered further away from the cameras and into the shade, where I sat against a tree and started to read. After some time, one of the extras brought me a blanked to dance on.

“Gracias,” I smiled gratefully, brushing the dust off of my dress.
It was a beautifully lazy morning, and then John came to claim me for lunch. We didn’t leave the set, but I got to know the some of the other cast members.

“Right bastards,” John referred to them fondly.
John and them had a right laugh together, and I had my moments too.
“Jesus John, where’d you pick this one up?” someone who’s name escaped me remarked with a grin.
“Oh she followed me back from New York like a lost puppy, she did,” John pulled me in for a affectionate hug.
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Shut up, you. I happen to love England, even without you here.”
“Oh so you say,” John challenged with a knowing look. He could see right through me.

I shot him an annoyed look, but I kept my silence about it after that.

~
There was another party set to kick off tonight at dusk, but I wasn’t sure I was up for another night of booze and dancing.

“Come ‘ead, Alice. It’ll be a good larf. And you said you had fun yesterday,” John reminded me.

I hand hmmed and sighed, and beat around the bush for as long as I could, watching John grow slightly peeved.

“Well, I suppose maybe. . .” I trailed off.

John grinned. “That’s good enough for me! Oh, and use one of those lovely Spanish outfits
again; it was lovely last night.”

~
I wasn’t in the party mood.

The chicas had gladly dressed me up again, this time in a tiny orange skirt and a loose yellow top. The colours were blinding, and I even threw on a red scarf to blind everybody around me.

I danced half heardedly for a while, but the pulsing music was giving me a headache, and I just wanted to lie down.

I crept away to the very edges of the set, where finally the music seemed to be playing at a normal volume. I watched the fiesta from above, smiling at the colours of the bonfire and the stars.

“Alright, senorita. This is the last time you’re gonna be caught here,” a harsh American voice shouted, grabbing me by the arm and twisting it behind my back.

“What are you doing?” I cried out, screeching in pain. “I have a pass!”

The security guard pinned me onto the ground, and I kicked his leg with all my might. He grunted out in pain and pulled my hair in an attempt to restrain me.

I screamed in pain. My already pounding head felt like it was going to explode, and my arm was just about ready to be twisted off.

“Oi! What the ‘ell are you doing, you fucking arsehole!” John’s words were slathered with anger.

I felt the security guard let his grip on my arm lapse, and I took the opportunity to force my way out of his grip. I stumbled blindly towards John’s voice, and me pulled me up against him protectively.

“I’ll fucking kick your ‘ead in, you bastard,” John seethed.

I clutched at him, half thankful and half terrified. John was trying to get at him, but was torn between holding me or beating this guy to pulp.

“John,” I begged, rubbing my arm desperately. “Please just leave it.”
John took one look at me and grunted, still glaring at the security guard, who was still stunned.

I could still hear him breathing heavily, so I stopped him from walking, and gave him a hug, enveloping his stiffness and stifling his anger.

“Oh, luv, I should be the one comforting you. I’m a dick, aren’t I?” his wire-rimmed hazel eyes were gazing earnestly at me.

I shook my head reassuringly. “You’re my saviour. Any longer and my arm would have snapped.”

John shuddered. “I’m sorry I didn’t come with you.”

I gently touched his cheek. “It’s in no way your fault, John.”

He nodded vaguely, locking eyes with me. I bit my lip slowly, and all thoughts of Paul left of
me. This was John – my John. He looked almost scared as he closed the gap between us and covered my mouth with his.

I gasped in surprise at how willingly I slid into his arms comfortably, the Spanish wind blew my hair back, and my red scarf dangled along with my hair.

I groaned into the kiss, letting him know not to stop now. He gathered me up in his arms gently and carried me back to the cabin.

John was different than Paul. Paul was sweet and generous and gentle. John was gentle too, but he was more urgent and fun.

I didn’t make love to John, I simply had sex with him. It was wild and wonderful, but that’s all it was.

“John,” I sighed into the sheets as we lay down finally to go to sleep. “If we keep this up I’m going to pass out of exhaustion.”

“That won’t stop me, love.”
~