Junk and Other Stories

Do You Dare? (Part Two)

(Sorry that this is so late! I meant to upload the second installment AGES ago!)

John's five minutes in the closet were nearly up. The other three had to rush to get things set up, but they managed it with about thirty seconds to spare. Ringo was grinning evilly and rubbing his hands together. George was standing (still shirtless) beside Ringo. He had his little video camera cradled in his hands and a wicked smile on his face. They were all set to carry out Ringo's dastardly plan.

Paul, however, was more reluctant. This plan involved exploiting himself and he wasn't completely on board with that idea. Ringo and George had spent most of their precious five minutes arguing back and forth with Paul, trying to persuade him to help them take revenge on John. Paul eventually gave in, and now here he was, dressed in his fluffy blue dressing gown and not much else. His complexion closely resembled that of a ripe strawberry.

Ringo gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Paulie. Just think, after this scene is over, John won't pester us to play Truth or Dare ever again!"

"Now there's an idea," Paul thought. 

"Right, Paulie, you ready?" Ringo asked.

Paul shrugged. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

"Good. George?"

George was fooling around with the camera, zooming in and out, pretending he was an overzealous photographer at a photo shoot. When he spoke it was in a silly, fruity voice. "I'm ready, Ringo, and may I just say how fabulous you look today? Oh my, the camera adores you, darling!"

Ringo chuckled. "Put a sock in it, George, and go out into the front hall. John will be coming back at any minute."

George grinned, showing all of his crooked teeth, then did as he was told and disappeared out into the front hall. Ringo followed after him, calling to Paul over his shoulder and wishing him luck. Paul smiled back wanly. He didn't feel at all lucky. There wasn't much he could about it, so he lay down on the sofa, propping himself up on one elbow, and waited.

John breezed into the room several seconds later, hot and sweaty from standing in the stuffy hallway closet. "That was way too simple, Ringo! Surely you could have come up with a better dare than that!"

"All right," Paul thought to himself. "Show time."

John stood in the center of the room. He did a double take when he saw Paul lying sprawled out on the couch wearing nothing but a skimpy dressing gown. Paul smiled sweetly and waved his fingers at him.

"Um, where are George and Ringo?" John asked nervously.

"They had to leave," Paul replied. There was something unusual about his voice. It had become warm and husky, even a bit provocative; not a bit like his ordinary voice.

"Do you have a frog in your throat, Paulie?" said John.

"No," Paul said airily, then he grinned slyly. "I could name something that I would like in my throat."

John raised his eyebrows. "A cough drop, mayhaps?"

Paul shook his head. He patted the empty spot beside him. "Come and sit down, John. You look awfully hot and tired."

"I'd rather not, thank you."

"Please, Johnny?" 

Paul batted his eyelashes and tried to look as sweet and innocent as possible. John eventually gave in and flopped down on the couch beside his friend. There was a brief silence, then Paul's arm snaked out and wrapped itself around John's waist. John stared at Paul's arm as if it would leap out and spontaneously attack him. Paul pretended to look wounded.