Beatlerotica

Part 3- You're Gonna Lose That Girl

"Goodnight, love!"

George said sleepily, his voice raspy from recording all afternoon. He yawned as he kissed her goodnight.

"Another evening spent alone,"

Phoebe thought to herself. She was a bit of a night owl and George liked to be in bed early. She understood, but it still irked her. She decided even though George was sleeping, she would still go out and have a drink by the pool. She slipped into a form fitting yellow dress and tossed on a matching beret. She swiped some lipstick on as she headed out the door.

As she made her way down the hallway, she bumped into a man.

"Sorry! Excuse me."

She looked up to see Paul Mccartney standing there with his beautiful doe eyes.

"Phoebe! You look marvelous, are you and George going out?"

"No, just going for a drink at the pool. You know George, always has to be in bed by 10."

Paul laughed sheepishly, scratching his chin and staring down at his shoes. He acted coy, purposefully trying not to look at her tight body.

"You can join me if you'd like!"

Phoebe said impulsively. She knew this might be a bad idea given that Paul seemed to be somewhat attracted to her.

It had been six months since she quit her job to follow George around the world, and even though she was enjoying the thrill of it all, she was still lonely. Paul always tried to make her comfortable. She loved how he paid attention to the little things, like the way she took her tea, and noticing when she got her hair trimmed.

"I would, but I'm severely underdressed. I mean look at you, and look at me"

"Oh bullocks!"

She said, scanning Paul from top to bottom. He was wearing thin pajamas.

"Paul you look fine! Besides, nobody will be up there. Please come, I don't want to drink alone!"

Paul blushed. She took his hand and led him to the elevator. There was a private pool on the roof where you could order drink service any time of night. Phoebe loved it up there. She felt like she could truly be away from all of the madness. Up there she didn't have to worry about jealous girls or paparazzi. She could be.

She and Paul sat on a blue cushioned bench next to each other and watched the stars. Phoebe sighed in relief, finally being able to relax. She'd almost forgotten that Paul was there.

"So, what was it like being a stewardess?"

Paul asked, genuinely wanting to know. Phoebe was taken aback. George never asked questions like this, and the only time he ever showed interest in her job was when he wanted to woo her. Nostalgia filled her heart as she remembered her old life.

"It was lovely, truly. Being so far up in the air, looking out at the clouds. Listening to strangers confess their fears and dreams. I really adored it."

Paul listened closely. His hazel eyes showing deep concern. Phoebe felt hers swell as she spoke. It was too painful for her to think about the past.

"It's really sweet of you to ask Paul, but I don't wish to talk about it any further."

She heard footsteps as a sharply dressed man brought over two beers and set them on the glass coffee table next to Paul's crossed feet.
He leaned forward to grab his drink and took a sip.
Phoebe stared at the pool. It was a chilly night, and the fog casted a delicious film over the water. It was peaceful.