Lovely Rita
Chapter 15
I awoke to the wonderful smell of coffee seeping in through the crack in the door which was slightly ajar, from what I could blearily see. I breathed heavily, before reaching for the man I had spent the night with. To my surprise, I ended up clutching on to sheet instead of Paul. I propped myself up onto my elbows and rubbed the sleep dust from my eyes wearily. My hair was in tangles and I breathed a laugh, putting my hand to my beating, hung-over forehead, getting flashbacks of the night before. From the state of my hair, it had been fun.
I stretched, reaching for the sky with my little, unmanicured hands, and pulled myself out of bed to see where Paul was. I heard a voice, and furrowed my eyebrows in wonder at the guest Paul may have round. I decided to linger by the bedroom door. My ears strained to listen, and I could hear music accompanying the voice. Paul was playing.
I rubbed my hung-over eyes and pulled the shirt of Paul's I suddenly realised I was wearing around me tighter. It was awfully chilly in this house when you were only wearing underwear, I thought, as I wondered how many other girls before might have thought the same thing. I laughed internally.
Tiptoeing down the hall silently, I heard the music clearer.
"Nothing could come between us, we can drink beer and drive the car aw- no!" He sang, before angrily stopping and scribbling something out. I could hear the pencil, that's how forcefully it was done. I covered my mouth to stop from laughing. Bless him.
"Yes, got it! Lovely Rita, meter maid, nothing can come between us. When it gets dark I tow your heart away! Paul McCartney, you are getting there!" He said, quickly scribbling it down before putting his left handed guitar down on the sofa and sitting back. I wandered into the room, trying not to make a sound.
Unfortunately for me, he'd left his goddamn guitar case open on the floor in pride of place for a hung-over idiot like me to trip over. Loudly.
"Shit!" I exclaimed, using a horrible profanity. I paused in the position I'd tripped in, as if that would help the situation. Paul jumped and turned to look at me.
"You're awake! Hope it wasn't my fault sweetheart." He smiled sweetly, like a little boy in a man's body. I couldn't help but smile back.
"No, it wasn't your fault. Are you not hungover?!" I said in shock at his clean cut, and frankly, perfect appearance. I leaned over him so we were face to face. He chuckled, pecking me on the lips.
"Those times in Hamburg got me a lot of experience. And not only in drinking if your reaction last night was anything to go by?" He winked. I laughed, and put my head in my hands before looking up and nodding in as sexy a way I could muster. "That's good then. I was hoping your first time with me wouldn't be embarrassingly bad. I worry you might go back home." He said, and I shook my head.
"Well that's out of the question at least for now. I've no idea how!" I smiled, trying to peek at what was on the paper beside him.
"Uh-uh!" He said, quickly scrabbling to pick up the paper beside him. "That's strictly Beatles property." He winked. I puffed my cheeks out in exasperation.
"Alright, sorry!" I yelled as I walked over to the kitchen and poured out some coffee from the just boiled kettle. I returned to the sofa to see Paul lighting up a cigarette, of which I assumed was composed of more than just tobacco, considering he was writing. I smirked and plonked my coffee down on the table in front of the couch where me and Paul sat.
I watched him take a drag down from his cigarette. It was so graceful when he did it; not like kids from my time. He took a toke from between his index and middle finger, and his cheeks hollowed, encasing the smoke in his mouth. He closed his eyes and laid back, relaxing with the help of the cigarette. The action was completed by him blowing the smoke out in one long puff, like a dragon. I nestled in next to him.
"I want to try it." I declared. Paul looked at me.
"You sure?" He said after a while, smiling.
"Yeah!" I said, excited at this prospect. I'd smoked before, though not anything but tobacco. He passed me the joint, and I took it the same way he did. I took a long drag on the cigarette. My eyes flickered as the wonderful smoke filled my head. I inhaled and left it for a while, before letting it billow out of my mouth. I looked at Paul, feeling extremely chilled out. I gave him back his cigarette and he took another few drags before stubbing it out.
"I like hanging out with you." I said, rather off the bat, and snuggled into him even more. He laughed slightly, and I felt his chest rise.
"That's good then, because I like hanging out with you too." He said, messing with my hair. "But we have to go to the studio today again." He said, slapping my leg. I groaned, not at the concept of going to the studio, but of leaving the house. I'd much rather snuggle with Paul on the sofa and play music all day. Paul gathered everything he had just been working on and shoved it in the duffell bag he had prepared by his feet.
"Get changed you wanton hussy!" He said, slapping my barely clothed bum as I stood up.
"Ow!" I giggled, running away from Paul and his tickling hands.
I stretched, reaching for the sky with my little, unmanicured hands, and pulled myself out of bed to see where Paul was. I heard a voice, and furrowed my eyebrows in wonder at the guest Paul may have round. I decided to linger by the bedroom door. My ears strained to listen, and I could hear music accompanying the voice. Paul was playing.
I rubbed my hung-over eyes and pulled the shirt of Paul's I suddenly realised I was wearing around me tighter. It was awfully chilly in this house when you were only wearing underwear, I thought, as I wondered how many other girls before might have thought the same thing. I laughed internally.
Tiptoeing down the hall silently, I heard the music clearer.
"Nothing could come between us, we can drink beer and drive the car aw- no!" He sang, before angrily stopping and scribbling something out. I could hear the pencil, that's how forcefully it was done. I covered my mouth to stop from laughing. Bless him.
"Yes, got it! Lovely Rita, meter maid, nothing can come between us. When it gets dark I tow your heart away! Paul McCartney, you are getting there!" He said, quickly scribbling it down before putting his left handed guitar down on the sofa and sitting back. I wandered into the room, trying not to make a sound.
Unfortunately for me, he'd left his goddamn guitar case open on the floor in pride of place for a hung-over idiot like me to trip over. Loudly.
"Shit!" I exclaimed, using a horrible profanity. I paused in the position I'd tripped in, as if that would help the situation. Paul jumped and turned to look at me.
"You're awake! Hope it wasn't my fault sweetheart." He smiled sweetly, like a little boy in a man's body. I couldn't help but smile back.
"No, it wasn't your fault. Are you not hungover?!" I said in shock at his clean cut, and frankly, perfect appearance. I leaned over him so we were face to face. He chuckled, pecking me on the lips.
"Those times in Hamburg got me a lot of experience. And not only in drinking if your reaction last night was anything to go by?" He winked. I laughed, and put my head in my hands before looking up and nodding in as sexy a way I could muster. "That's good then. I was hoping your first time with me wouldn't be embarrassingly bad. I worry you might go back home." He said, and I shook my head.
"Well that's out of the question at least for now. I've no idea how!" I smiled, trying to peek at what was on the paper beside him.
"Uh-uh!" He said, quickly scrabbling to pick up the paper beside him. "That's strictly Beatles property." He winked. I puffed my cheeks out in exasperation.
"Alright, sorry!" I yelled as I walked over to the kitchen and poured out some coffee from the just boiled kettle. I returned to the sofa to see Paul lighting up a cigarette, of which I assumed was composed of more than just tobacco, considering he was writing. I smirked and plonked my coffee down on the table in front of the couch where me and Paul sat.
I watched him take a drag down from his cigarette. It was so graceful when he did it; not like kids from my time. He took a toke from between his index and middle finger, and his cheeks hollowed, encasing the smoke in his mouth. He closed his eyes and laid back, relaxing with the help of the cigarette. The action was completed by him blowing the smoke out in one long puff, like a dragon. I nestled in next to him.
"I want to try it." I declared. Paul looked at me.
"You sure?" He said after a while, smiling.
"Yeah!" I said, excited at this prospect. I'd smoked before, though not anything but tobacco. He passed me the joint, and I took it the same way he did. I took a long drag on the cigarette. My eyes flickered as the wonderful smoke filled my head. I inhaled and left it for a while, before letting it billow out of my mouth. I looked at Paul, feeling extremely chilled out. I gave him back his cigarette and he took another few drags before stubbing it out.
"I like hanging out with you." I said, rather off the bat, and snuggled into him even more. He laughed slightly, and I felt his chest rise.
"That's good then, because I like hanging out with you too." He said, messing with my hair. "But we have to go to the studio today again." He said, slapping my leg. I groaned, not at the concept of going to the studio, but of leaving the house. I'd much rather snuggle with Paul on the sofa and play music all day. Paul gathered everything he had just been working on and shoved it in the duffell bag he had prepared by his feet.
"Get changed you wanton hussy!" He said, slapping my barely clothed bum as I stood up.
"Ow!" I giggled, running away from Paul and his tickling hands.