Carnival of Light || Paul McCartney/Beatles

28. The Winter's Tale

Carnival of Light

28.

I went home, had a joint, and thought about Paul. I slept badly because I couldn't stop thinking about Paul. Paul Paul Paul. His hair, his eyes, his conversation, his clothes, his pine-cigarette smell, his warm honey voice, the way he touched me, the way he moved, the way he thought.

I was in a taxi on my way to St John's Wood by midday, starting to wonder if I wasn't losing my mind. This was not like me. I was composed, sensible, measured, and thoughtful. I didn't obsess or go mad over a man.

I climbed out of the taxi, dressed down in jeans and a polo beneath a tan Mac, a black umbrella in my hand to ward off the pervasive London drizzle. There were only a handful of girls outside the gate, braving the rain as it took a turn for the worse.

I rushed up to a small group of them and gestured for them to get under my umbrella as I pressed the gate buzzer three times. We all huddled together as the heavens opened up above us in a torrential shower. I heard the click of the gate unlocking and pushed my umbrella into one of the girl's hands.

"Bloody hell," Paul said when he saw them with me. "Go home girls, you'll catch your death!"

I bobbed out from under my umbrella to the one Paul was holding, and he quickly locked the gate and rushed me up to the house, through the front door where Martha promptly began jumping all over me.

I knelt down to greet her while Paul tackled the dripping umbrella.

"Fucking hell," he huffed. "Can you believe they stay out there in that?"

I was still absorbed with Martha and didn't reply.

"Oh, nice to see you too," Paul scoffed.

I gave Martha one more cuddle then stood, turned to Paul and threw my arms around his neck to kiss him. He slipped his arms inside my Mac to wrap around my waist, and I quickly shrugged it off before pressing myself up against him again.

"Hi, baby," Paul grinned.

"Hi," I smiled and ran my fingers through his hair. "How was the rest of your evening?"

"Bloody boring once you left," he kissed me, then reconsidered, his eyebrows raising. "I got some groovy green trousers off Nigel, though."

I made my most impressed face for him. "Bargain."

Paul laughed, his eyes crinkling merrily, and leaned in to kiss me again, and we sort of wandered down the hall that way, wrapped around each other, kissing lazily until we got to the bottom of the spiral staircase. Paul tugged my polo free from my jeans and urged me out of it, leaving my hair a mess. Then he ducked down, and scooped me up to hold me against the wall.

"What are you doing!" I laughed, my legs tightening around his waist. "You'll drop me."

"I didn't drop you last time," Paul pointed out, making me laugh again.

"Let's go upstairs," I insisted.

"Oh, alright, fine," Paul sighed begrudgingly but instead of setting me down he just pivoted away from the wall. He took a wobbly step, making me gasp and grasp at his head for something to hold onto as he started climbing up the stairs. "Stop pulling me hair, woman."

"Put me down!" I demanded. "You'll break both our necks!"

"I'm stronger than I look, love," Paul craned his head to see around me, gauging how far we were from the first landing. "Fucking hell."

He insisted on carrying on, and we were both giggling helplessly by the time we made it to the bed. Paul dropped me and fell on top of me, shuffling out of his clothes and getting me out of the rest of mine, and once I was naked and underneath him, he was as insatiable as he always was, and that afternoon he was impatient too.