Tomorrow Never Knows

"Why in the bloody hell are we going all the way to Yorkshire on holiday, Eppy? It's cold and damp and the sun never shines", muttered John.

"We have been on tour for nearly a year and we all need a holiday, we are going to have a group holiday where no one is going to be in trouble. And Jessa knows the owner", said Brian, watching as the bags were loaded onto the coach.

"Just because your bird recommended it doesn't mean it's good", teased George, watching their normally stoic manager flush bright red.

"Lay off, George. Eppy has got the most gorgeous bird as his assistant and he doesn't fancy shagging her", joked Paul as Brian gave them a look and the others laughed.

The group straightened up when Jessamyn Jarvis came out of the office, John openly admiring her legs underneath the blue knee-length skirt. "Lads, you have to get on the coach", she said, her crisp voice with a hint of a Yorkshire accent.

"Aye, Miss Jessa. We'll get on't bus", he teased, mimicking her accent.

"Get on the coach, John", she retorted.

John saluted her and laughed as she scowled. Eppy has got the finest bird in England as his secretary and he's a queer. Maybe this is going to be an interesting trip after all, he mused, his gaze lingerint on her legs. Jessa was nearly tall as him with wavy reddish-gold hair, her slim legs and shapely ass visible under her skirt. Even in a gray suit with her hair pulled back, Jessa was a strikingly pretty woman with the high cheekbones and full lips of a model, her green eyes with golden highlights slightly tilted at the corners giving her a vaguely exotic look.

Everyone got on board the coach and the driver did a head count, starting the engine and closing the door. The place have better be good, maybe the others will find nice birds, he mused.

"You fancy the Ice Queen, John?", teased Ringo.

John was glad Brian and Jessa were on the other end of the bus, or he would have quieted the drummer. "Yeah, she's a fine looking bird. And she's a redhead, no real redhead is that frigid. Eppy's queer and he has a fancy bird as his assistant, someone has got a sense of humor", he chuckled.

"I hope Yorkshire birds are nice, I haven't been there since I was a lad", said Paul.

"Probably, me aunt is from Ripon and we'd go visit. The birds there are nice, a lot of blonds and redhead and tall, there's a lot of Viking genes", said George.

"Very nice, at least they'll be nice birds", said Ringo approvingly.

The coach went north from London on the M1, crossing the city limits past the suburbs and into the gentle rolling hills of the Chilterns. The scenery gradually grew more rugged the further north they went until they crossed the Humber at Hull, the industrial port a poor introduction to this beautiful region.

"We're in God's Own Country, Brian", she said.

"I love Yorkshire, I went to a summer camp in the Dales where I did a lot of horseback riding. One of our biggest stores is in Leeds, the people are wonderful", he said.

"Aye, we're honest folks and know how to make a quid. And we're not soft like folks down't south", she said.

"Your Yorkshire is coming out", he teased.

"Aye, I am a Yorkshire lass from Rosedale. And you're a Scouser, in spite of everything", she laughed.

"Correct, but I don't have the accent. Is the town busy now?", he asked.

"No, it's past the heather season and many of the tourists already left. There going to be a few people, perhaps elderly people or backpackekrs. The lads won't get into trouble, there's only a few pubs. A lot of people go for the hiking, especially in summer and autumn with the heather. The lads are going to relax and so are you, you work like a dog", she teased.

"I know, that's how we got to the top. At least they won't get into mischief", said Brian.

The band looked on with dismay as the coach stopped in front of a large forbidding Victorian-style hotel atop a hill overlooking the village of Rosedale. The sky was gray with darker patches and thin streaks of light peeking through, the moors and valleys below a dun expanse of dark green and brown with the last of the heather adding a tiny bit of color.

"This is like Wuthering Heights", said Paul.

"Wuthering Heights is overrated, the best Bronte novel is Jane Eyre. Catherine is a poor excuse for a Yorkshirewoman. Us Yorkshirewomen aren't weak and barmy", said Jessa.

"I wouldn't mind being your Heathcliff, but you've got more life than Catherine, love", said John with a flirtacious smile.

"Jane Eyre is a better woman. And I don't want a Heathcliff, I want a stable man", she huffed.

John just winked at her and the group went inside to check in. The lobby was as forbidding as the moors outside, dimly lit with wooden-panelled walls and stuffed mounted animal heads looking down with glass eyes. Brian spoke to the elderly man on duty and handed them their keys. "John and Paul share a room, George and Ringo share one and I'll share with Jessa", he said.

John was glad that the roomw as clean and spacious as he quickly put away his things. "Trust Eppy to share a room with a nice bird and he's a queer", he laughed.

Paul nodded and took out a pack of Winstons, breaking the seal and offering him one. "Yeah, and you fancy her. I can see why, she's a fine looking bird and she's an ice queen. Do you think she's going to shag him?", he laughed.

"Are you kidding? Eppy would faint if saw a pair of tits, and he wouldn't know what to do with a pair of tits anyways. Just remember I fancy her, George said Yorkshire birds are nice", said John, lighting his cigarette.

Paul lit his own cigarette and took a drag. "I know, I don't poach my mates birds. I'll find a nice Yorkshire lass of my own", he said.