Carnival of Light || Paul McCartney/Beatles

24. Ashram Days & Jungle Fever (Paul)

Carnival of Light (Part 2)

24.

March 1968

Rishikesh, India

Paul woke up happy.

His eyes popped open and he immediately felt warm and content and optimistic about what the day held in store for him.

Through the mesh mosquito netting draped over the four poster bed, he watched a dragonfly climb across the bungalow's concrete ceiling, its gem-toned wings winking. The dragonfly paused when it reached a beam of light slanting across the ceiling and seemed to consider its options. Then it took flight, doing a few loops around the room before finding an exit somewhere.

Paul rolled his head to the side to see Beatrix sleeping beside him. Her back was to him, her dark hair a curly mess on the pillow, her slight shoulders rising and falling with each deep, even breath.

It had been two weeks since Paul arrived in Rishikesh to find her waiting for him. For two weeks he'd been living on a steady diet of sex, meditation, and relaxation, which was almost certainly the key to unlimited happiness.

Beatrix was coming back to England, that much was certain. They'd agreed to stay the full twelve weeks in Rishikesh to "figure things out," which so far entailed many discussions about moving out of or staying in London.

Paul had always had this vision of Beatrix as a country girl at heart. She knew a bit about sheep and she loved being outdoors and she'd gone crackers for the farm when he took her to Scotland. But Beatrix Beauford was a complicated bird, and she was more resistant to the idea of selling up Cavendish in favor of a cottage in the Cotswolds than Paul had thought she'd be.

She made a valid point — the novelty of the country could wear off after a few weeks. They might get bored living in the middle of nowhere with none of their friends or the delights of the city on their immediate doorstep.

It had taken two weeks to decide they wouldn't give up Cavendish but would start looking for a place outside of the city to spend more time at — somewhere cosy and private with indoor plumbing and a roof that didn't leak and didn't require a private plane to get there so Paul could come home after recording at Abby Road.

That was the living situation mostly sorted. Now they had ten more weeks to figure out the rest.

Paul rolled onto his side and pressed his lips to Beatrix's shoulder, drifting up the slope of her neck until she stirred. She reached back to stroke Paul's hair, her fingers slipping through the glossy black strands as he nuzzled her neck.

There were no peony-scented baths to be had in Rishikesh, just makeshift showers, but somehow Paul could still smell their clean, sweet scent clinging to her skin. He moved her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck, his hand sliding over her hip and up the flat plane of her stomach, tracing an absentminded pattern with his fingertips. Beatrix sighed and arched her back invitingly, and Paul needed little more invitation than that to slip his hand between her legs, his fingers gently coaxing until she was wet and breathless and pressing against him.

He could feel his heart beating against her back as he eased inside her, touching her all the ways she liked best as he took her, slowly and leisurely from behind. He cupped her breasts and stroked her stomach before he touched her above where he was moving inside her, circling and pressing until her body was drawn tight like a bow. Beatrix's soft sighs turned into more desperate sounds of pleasure, urging Paul to take her just a little bit less gently as she started to come apart, her body rippling around him, pulling him over the edge with her.

How could you not wake up happy every morning when you were waking up to this?

Beatrix made a contented sound and Paul hummed happily into her shoulder, feeling all warm and glowy.