Lovely Rita

Arriving at the EMI studios, I felt a pang of nervousness. This was the greatest experience ever!
My arms intertwined with Paul's in the cold August air, and the wind was nipping around my face as we walked from the car to the doors. I rubbed my hands together, before Paul grabbed them and rubbed them for me, radiating the heat that seemed to just naturally pour out of his skin onto me. I smiled up at him through my hair that was wildly blowing around. Ringo was ahead of us, and he held the door open.
"Thank you, Ringo!" I said cheerfully, forgetting the events of the morning already. He looked at Paul and then winked at me. I smiled back, confused, but nonetheless feeling secure and welcome.
The lads led me down a long hallway, and in that time I was fully able to appreciate Paul McCartney's 24 year old bottom in it's glory, clad in the typical Beatles' tight trousers. I made that kind of face you see the women on adverts making in jest, but I meant it all the same. Even if it was just to myself. He had such a nice frame for a man. Skinny, but not spindly, like all the lads seemed to be nowadays. I mean, in my nowadays. He had some muscle and meat on his bones, let's say. His hair stopped at his collar perfectly and he was beautifully proportioned. I thought I should stop gawping at his derriere before I was spotted perving by Ringo or an executive or something. I skipped ahead a few paces to join them.
"Are we nearly there yet? Are you going to record anything today?" I asked like an impatient child. Ringo laughed at me and Paul answered.
"Yeah, just a few more white doors and we'll be at the right sector of the loony hospital for time travelling women that dress like prostitutes." He and Ringo chuckled.

"I do not dress like a prostitute! In 2012 this is how we all dress! Blame the Spice Girls for their everlasting influence I guess." I retaliated.
"The Spice Girls? They sound shit." Ringo scoffed. I smirked. I wasn't a great fan, though they did start the girl power movement (bar those wonderful women in the war, I respect them too) on a worldwide scale. But I wasn't about to go all feminist on a bunch of men that found pleasure in their early career having affairs and hiring Hamburgian prostitutes.
"And yeah, you might hear us record, it might just be a few songs we practice or run by eachother. Why do people dislike surprises nowadays?" Paul sighed, rolling his eyes playfully.
"Awesome." I laughed. We reached a big white door with a small window in. I didn't want to look through, I wanted to actually keep what was in there a surprise. Paul grabbed my hand and led me through.
"Lads, I stumbled upon something last night. You might like her. I hope you like her," Paul began. I heard the pipes of John Lennon chime up.
"You 'aven't brought a bloody sheep or what have you into the studios 'to keep us company' have you Paul?" John said, doing his best McCartney impression in the middle there. I giggled behind a hand, finding it incredibly funny that Paul had clearly brought an animal or something here before to keep them company.
"No, shut up you bastard. She's a lady. And before you say anything, she's from the future, she's lovely, and she's called Rita." Paul said, rushing the first reason they shouldn't say anything, I noticed. He pulled me completely through the door and I was exposed to two expectant men in their mid twenties. I gasped suddenly.
"Oh, Paul. You haven't picked up a fan, 'ave you?" George asked. What I was about to do, however, would prove him completely wrong.
"Oh my God, it's John-"
"See, I told you nothing good would come from doing that!" George chimed up, putting his guitar down and rubbing his face in his hands.
"-Lennon's Rickenbacker! This is so incredible!" I continued, rushing over to the guitar stand where John's guitar stood beckoning me. I pored over the shiny, wonderous guitar, imagining the works of art that had been played on it.
Paul and Ringo beckoned the other two over while I sat in awe of this guitar, stroking up and down the neck and plucking the strings gently.
I could hear every word Paul was saying. So far, he was awful at secrets.
"Look, she'd had a bit of a fright, and set off my car alarm last night. She seemed to be a pretty sane fan, bar the future thing which I'm really starting to believe, and from the clothes she was - and still is - wearing, you can sort of tell she's not from round here. She is also gorgeous, as you can tell," At that, I blushed to myself, smiling down at the ground as I faced away from them. "...funny, intelligent and she can play really well! So anyway, I let her stay the night at mine with me and Ringo, because I couldn't leave her alone at hers. She says she used to live with university friends but they've all disappeared since so she would have been alone. Just give her a chance, lads, please?" And with that, I was smitten with Paul. He was so lovely. I turned to look at the four men, who were intently watching me fiddle about with John's guitar.

"Sorry. Hi, I'm Rita!" I said, standing up and dusting myself off. I felt slightly embarrassed as they all looked me up and down. I say 'they all', John and George were doing so apprehensively, whereas Paul was just eyeing me. Subtley, but he didn't know I had noticed. I enjoyed it regardless.
"Well,Paul was right I guess. You are a bleedin' cracker!" John said. I blushed at his comment and so did Paul. Ringo exchanged glances with George as Paul looked at his shuffling feet. "I suppose you can stay with us, and we can try figure out a way to help you get back home. I know it must be odd, us lot just accepting that you're from the future, but if you think about it,some of our songs aren't particularly of this world, so we're down with anything." He added, reassuringly. At least they didn't think I was mad. I smiled compassionately and felt Paul's eyes on me the entire time since John's comment.
"Thank you and thank you. At least you don't think I'm some lunatic fangirl or something. I'll be as quiet as a mouse, honestly, you won't know I'm here."
John smiled in reply, standing in a confused manner before picking up his Rickenbacker and tuning it up to perfection, sitting on a beanbag in the process.

Paul made his way over to me and motioned to a beanbag that was larger than the rest, and we shared that one. He sat to my right so that the neck of the guitar he was now wielding didn't impale me.
"That went well!" He half-whispered. I smiled in reply, watching him pluck away intently as he got into his studio attitude.

"Yeah, I'm so glad they're not threatening to phone up the next mental home. Maybe, if this is okay with you guys, we could go for a few drinks later somewhere quiet, just so we can all chat and get to know eachother, all that jazz. Sound good?" I smiled hopefully up at the man who was mainly concentrating on his instrument now.
"Actually," he said, looking up and into the centre of the room as if through the far wall. "That sounds like a really nice idea. It'd get us all comfy around eachother. And we can chat some more, too." He said, slightly more enthusiastically than I imagined he consciously meant to. I smiled at that

"Awesome! So we'll tell them they're coming no questions asked when you guys break then, yeah?" I laughed, making Paul chuckle too.

He was strumming out a few chords, and from what I could gather, it was 'Honey Pie' in it's early format. I smiled and poked him. He stopped playing and turned his head gracefully to me. I swooned and caught myself before I embarrassed myself. "That song's a good'un. I know it. Keep at it, sweetie." I said, adopting a name I hadn't used here before. I realised what I said, but saw Paul smile in reply, and continue smiling as he looked down at his guitar and began to play again. I felt so good for complimenting him, he was obviously sceptical. He'd probably written it a while ago and been a little unsure.

I looked out to the rest of the band, and they were all intently playing their own instruments, and Ringo was wandering around with a tambourine asking where his cue was going to be for some song John was working on. I sighed and held my head in my hands in a dream like state. This was so great.