witchy woman | george harrison

6. | Foxey Lady

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When Paul and George returned from their outdoor cigarette, the volume inside had tripled.

Almost everyone had left the living room, leaving glasses half full, cigarette butts, record sleeves. They followed them to the dining room, the source of all commotion.

It was hard to see over the excited crowd, but there, playing on Pete's brother's instruments, were the three girls they'd invited.

"Roll over Beethoven, gotta hear it again today!" Sloane howled into the microphone, smiling and having the time of her life. She and Frankie danced around as they rocked out on guitar.

The party girls were ecstatic, breaking off from their snogging partners to cheer on the scene. The boys' mouths were all agape, some pushing each other to try and get a better look.

From glancing around, George could guess every guy in the room had a hard-on. Girls who could play, and play well—it was like seeing a dog walk on two legs.

When they were finished, the crowd's cheers were deafening. Girls cried for more, going up and requesting songs.

George was in awe.

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Sloane was surprised to see Paul and George suddenly appear at the head of the crowd.

George made quick work of getting in close to her before anyone else could.

"That was great! Really great," George laughed. "I can't believe it."

"Thank you," Sloane said bashfully. "We were just having fun. We didn't expect anyone to come and watch."

Paul, a bit miffed at having been upstaged by a lot of girls, said nothing. He smiled politely and looked around the room, faking disinterest.

"I've been looking for you!" George continued, shouting over the crowd. "Good thing you made yourself easy to find."

Sloane looked back at her friends, only to find that Frankie was now being showered with compliments by Pete Best, the Beatles' drummer. Mary was chatting with some cute boy. Paul scrunched his nose at the sight.

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After George gathered them both new cups of punch, they made their way upstairs to find a quieter place to talk.

One by one, George opened each bedroom door. They winced as they discovered several couples going at it in the dark.

"Oh no," Sloane whispered. George struggled to hold in his laughter.

Finally, they discovered an empty room. He closed the door behind them and turned on a lamp, casting an orange glow over the floral wallpaper.

Purposefully ignoring the bed, Sloane sat criss-cross on the carpet. Awkwardly, George followed suit, sitting down next to her. He drew in a breath.

"About the other night..." he began nervously. "When you asked me about school."

"Yes," she leaned back, placing her hands behind her.