Honey Pie (P.M)

Movin' And A Groovin' Gonna Satisfy My Soul

"I'm gonna tell Aunt Mary about Uncle John

He says he has the blues but he has a lotta fun

Oh baby

Yeeeeh baby

Woooooh baby

Having me some fun tonight"

Paul’s voice rang out across the room, answering the screams of a hundred teenager girls. The Casbah Club was full, and they were all there to see Johnny and the Moondogs, the latest incarnantion of the band John had orignally started with his school friends; in those days, they were known as The Quarry Men. But, more to the point, all 100 girls - and their boyfriends - were there for Louise’s 17th birthday. It just happened that Johnny and the Moondogs was the house band for the night. From his place behind the microphone, Paul scanned the crowd, looking for the birthday girl. Finally, he spotted her, and a smile appeared on his face. Louise was dead centre of the club, dancing with John’s girlfriend, Cynthia. The band ended the song and Paul thanked them for their 'more than generous' applause. “Di ya like that? D'ya want more?” John shouted at the crowd, who screamed back. "Well... too bad. ‘Cause some of us need a break. Don't see you lot getting up here to entertain, do we? No. Be back in 10!" John's humour was effortless; everyone was in stitches. As they bound off stage, John noticed Paul hesitate. "What's up, Paulie?" He asked, lighting his cigerette. "Nothing... You go on. Get me beer. I just want to give Lou her present." Paul relied. "Thought you were skint again?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who said I'd bought her something?" Paul replied, picking up George's guitar and giving John a wink, before walking back onto the stage. "'Oi! Listen up!" Paul shouted. Everyone turned and began to cheer when they notcied Paul stood on stage once more. "To start off, Hoppy Birdy, Lou. You don't look a day over 35." The audience laughed; Paul's humour matched John's perfectly. "No, no. I'm joking. Now, to get all serious, I'm not a rich lad. Y'know? I try but I'm just crap at everything. And being in a band doesn't pay much, y'know. Especially when you're strggling. But, erm, when you're in a band, you should be good at, y'know, music. So, I thought I'd sing for Lou, on her birthday. Cos that costs nothing, and I know she'll love it. Unless she's been lying to me every time I sing for in which case..." Paul began to walk off stage, pretending to be miffed and hurt. He ran back to the microphone and shoosed the crowd. "No, but seriously... Happy Birthday, Lou. This one's for you." He looked at Louise, who was staring up at him, an expression on her face he couldn't quite place. Paul looked away, focusing on the strings of George's guitar and started to play one of his and Louise's favorite songs but their favourite singer, Elvis Presley.

"I love you because you understand dear

Every single thing I try to do.

You're always there to lend a helping hand, dear.

I love you most of all because you're you."

When Paul finished the song, everyone cheered. “Go on, Louise! Show the poor lad how thankful you are!” John shouted. Louise smile bashfully, avoiding eye contact with Paul. "Thank you, Paul. It was lovely." She called out to him, her cheeks going a deep shade of scarlett. "What's up, Lou? Scared? We only want you to give him a kiss on the cheek, not a fucking blowjob!" John yelled, causing a few lads to wolf whistle. Now, Louise was never one to back down easily, from a dare or anything else. She didn't like people to think her weak or a chicken, even if she'd regret things she did to prove her fearlessness later. So, holding her head high, she walked towards the stage. Paul knelt down and looked Louise straight in the eyes. “You don’t have to let them bully you, y’know.” He said, holding her gaze. She raised an eyebrow. “Surely you know me better than that? You know I don't like to let John win. So, needs must...” She placed her hands on either side of Paul’s face and placed her lips carefully on his. Around them, everyone cheered, but they couldn’t hear anyone. Paul responded to Louise’s careful, steady lips. He placed his own hand on the back of Louise's neck, pulling her closer. Her lips tasted of happiness, if that was possible. Dot’s kisses were never like that. They were just… kisses. Louise’s were something else. When they broke apart, the cheer suddenly flooded their unhearing ears. "But I always wanted to thank you... So, thank you." Louise whispered, admiring Paul's big brown eyes. "You're welcome." He replied, a big grin on his face.

Later on, as the party rolled on into the early hours of the next morning, Paul sat with John and George on the stage. They watched Louise and Cynthia dancing to the record someone had started to play on a nearby turntable. As John left to retrieve another round of beers, George watched Paul’s face carefully. “What’re you thinking about?” George asked him, lighting a new cigarette. Paul shook his head. “I’m thinking… I’ve made a right rats arse of this. When gets back to her, I’ve most likely lost Dot... but I don’t know if I’ve even got Louise.” George smiled sympathetically. “Paul, if you think after a kiss like that you haven’t got her, there’s something not quite right in your head.” John joined them again, skillfully holding three pints of beer in his hands. “Well, lads, if the music doesn’t work, I could be a cracking bartender.” George laughed but Paul only smiled. “What’s up with 'im?” John asked George, noticing Paul's lack of reaction to his, quite frankly, superb one liner. “He doesn’t think he’s ‘got’ Louise.” George replied. John scoffed. “After a kiss like that? You must be fucking mad to think she’s not dying to shag your brains out.” John ruffled Paul’s hair with his free hand. “Go get her, my son.” Paul looked at John and he looked back. "Y'know it makes sense, McCartney." John said seriously, taking a gulp of his beer.

Louise was still dancing when she felt someone take her hand in theirs. She turned around to see who it was and grinned when she found Paul looking down at her, his eyes soft and his cheeks flushed. He lowered his face to her ear. “Let’s go somewhere else.” He whispered. She shivered; she could feel his warm breath, right down her neck. Louise looked up at him, her eyes wide. She didn't even hesitate, didn't even stop to think of a reply. She simply nodded and allowed Paul to lead her out onto the street. They walked silently, hand in hand, until they reached the nearest bus stop.

Once on the bus, they sat at the very back on the second level, despite every other seat being available. Louise went ahead of Paul and sat down with a thump. Paul chuckled and sat at the other end of the bus’ long back seat. They stared at each other for a few minutes, their faces blank, expressionless. Tired of the silence, Paul began wrinkling his nose and pulling funny faces. Louise’s lips formed a smile; the smile grew into a grin, which developed into laughter. Taking advantage of her laughing fit, Paul jumped up and started to tickle her. “Stop it!” She squealed, trying to grab his hands. Eventually she got hold of them and, holding them, placed them on her stomach. “Where are we going, Paul?” She whispered to him, playing with his hands. “John's staying elsewhere tonight, so he’s given me the keys to his flat. Said we could do… whatever…” He freed one hand hand, and let his fingers trail up Louise’s right leg, her stomach and eventually her cleavage. "Enough of the charming 'I'm in band' bullshit. Just say what you want to do." She said bluntly, grabbing his hand in her but never removing it from it's place on her chest."I didn't want to say it..." Paul began. "Because you didn't want to make it weird? Paul, I'm a virgin but I'm not a fucking prude.” Paul smiled, chuckling softly. “I know that. But... I don't know. I don't know why I thought that would work on you.” "Say what you mean, or I'll see you tomorrow." Louise said bluntly. Paul  hesitated. "I want you." He said at last. Louise studied his facial features: his almond shaped eyes, the colour of which was a gold-flecked-hazel; his pointed, button nose; his full lips, that she had that evening finally kissed after months of longing; his perfectly shaped eyebrows; and his fluffy black hair, that was no longer sculpted into it’s usual quiff, but had deflated and fallen. Louise preferred it that way. She reached forward and fiddled with his hair. He let out a sigh and smiled, rested his head on her stomach gently; he knew he hadn't blown everything. Louise rested her head back and closed her eyes. “Okay.” She whispered after a few minutes. Paul, keeping his head on her stomach, opened his eyes. “What?” He asked, making sure he’d heard her right. “I said okay. We'll go to John's flat and... we'll see.”