Mclennon Drabbles

She's the Kind of Girl

John's point of view

Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations and language

"You're a fucking liar!" George sputtered with accompanying laughter, nearly doubled over from it.

Really.

It almost bothered me that he was so amused by what I was telling him, but at least he hadn't ridiculed and taunted me about it. He's not the type to be too provoking, but he has his moments.

"I swear it on my life, you ponce." I couldn't hold a straight face myself, thinking about how my confession must've sounded.

It was rather gross when you said it out loud and thought about what it truly implied, but at the time it happened I just went with it, wanting to know how different it might've felt. And feel different it most certainly fucking did, but I'm not sure if I could ever let something like that occur again.

After last night's concert we all had brought a girl back to the hotel, and who would've guessed what sort of naughty things that busty brunette I chose was in to. Christ.

"I can't believe this, this is gold. I can't wait until the others -"

"You will not tell the others." I hissed, grabbing ahold of his shirt collar.

He looked at me with a sly grin, and I knew I couldn't count on him to keep this to himself.

"The only reason you know is because you an' your bird were in the same room, and I thought I could trust you to share this.. experience. But apparently instead I'll have to let them all know about your little mishap last month..."

"No! No, that's not necessary. Paul and Ritchie won't find out."

"Find out about what?" Called a sleepy voice from the next room over, and I felt a spike of fear when the bedroom door opened and Paul was standing on the other side of it, dressed in only his underwear and a white T-shirt.

His and Ringo's room was adjoined with ours, there was no doubt that he could have possibly overheard us all this time. He looked sort of funny to me standing there, holding his toothbrush in front of his mouth, eyebrows raised in a questioning expression.

"John has had quite the experience, y'know." George said nonchalantly, walking over to his suitcase and unzipping it.

We never really took the time to unpack everything we might need, it got extremely tedious after a while, so it wasn't unusual enough for Paul to realize that George was only doing that to be a good distance away from me. It was smart of him, too, because when he was on the other side of the room I was less likely to thump him right on the head, the bastard.

"Has he? And he's keepin' it a secret, too, hm?" Paul asked, as I stared at him with what I hoped to be a threatening, unemotional look.

Pretentious Ponce.

"It's not suited for your young ears, Paul."

"Then why does George get to know?"

He reminded me of a bratty toddler trying to get his way, with his slumped shoulders and sour expression. I truly didn't want him to know - if I told him he may get the wrong idea from it, might think that I'm hinting around at something that could never be.

It would sound awfully shady, especially after that not-so-heterosexual encounter I had brought upon him back when we were in Houston. But that's another story entirely.

The gears of my mind were turning relentlessly, while he continued brushing his teeth - until finally there was a click.

"Because, Geo here saw the whole thing. If you would've roomed with me instead you would've known." I decided on this excuse because it veered the conversation towards a different, less dangerous matter.