Two Different Roads

Hell In A Handbasket

The band briefly returned to England on July 8, the date of Ellen's twenty-first birthday. A small, casual party was held the next day for both her and Ringo who had turned twenty-six on the 7th at John and Cynthia's mansion, Kenwood in Weybridge, Surrey.
Mrs. Lennon had chosen a lovely silk blouse as Ellen's gift. Once more Ellen was nearly overcome with guilt, even more so when John leaned over at some point to whisper, "You'll get your prezzie from ME later."
That turned out to be an expensive, romantic dinner he had delivered to her flat along with a single red rose, followed by hours of passionate lovemaking after which he slept in her arms all night.
Things were going too well. Something was bound to go wrong, and it did in a huge way. Earlier in the year, John had given an interview to journalist and friend, Maureen Cleeve, in which he said, "Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink. I needn't argue about that; I'm right and I will be proved right. We're more popular than Jesus now; I don't know which will go first-rock 'n' roll or Christianity. Jesus was all right but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It's them twisting it that ruins it for me."

In his home country not a ripple, but towards the end of the month it was reprinted in the American teen magazine, Datebook. Lennon's statement caused a furor in the U.S.'s so-called Bible Belt. It was considered anti-christian, even blasphemous.
Bonfires were organized to destroy Beatle records and memorabilia. Pastors, public figures and media personalities denounced the group. There were even some vague and not so vague threats. All of this right before the American part of the touring season.
The first week of August Brian was forced to leave the holiday he was using to recover from glandular fever to fly to the US and attempt to put out the fire. Ellen, who had been dealing with EVERYTHING in his absence, accompanied him. Several progressively more concerned phone calls from John were exchanged with both of them about how their efforts to ameliorate the situation were progressing.
A public apology was going to be required from John personally. Anyone who knew him understood that this was not going to be easily accomplished. John did not LIKE to apologize, most particularly if he'd meant what he said, which was usually the case.
Ellen was not certain exactly what would happen when they flew into Chicago, Illinois for the first date of the American tour. She watched in sympathy as John was grilled mercilessly at the press conference held in the city after they landed. He actually kept his composure relatively well, managing to hold his irritation to a minimum and choking out a reluctant but acceptable apology.
Ellen had no idea whether to be proud of him or to be angry on his behalf that he had been forced to basically disavow a statement that taken accurately in the context in which he'd said it was quite true.
More than anything she just wanted to be there for him, offer whatever support he might require of her.
II
They sat side by side on the end of the hotel bed, knees touching but not speaking. Ellen could only stare in amazement as John's head suddenly bowed onto his hands and he began to cry, an event she had only witnessed a handful of times in all the years she'd known him. So unprecedented was this that she really wasn't sure how to respond. Would he want comfort or to be left alone? She tried to take her cue from him, waited patiently, silently to see what he would do.
At last, he lay down, legs bent into almost a fetal position, his head coming to rest in her lap. A hand reached for one of hers. She employed the other with stroking his soft hair which looked red at the moment in the lamplight.
"I hate it that I caused trouble for the others. Did I do all right? Do you think I fixed things for everyone?" He asked in a tentative, plaintive tone that was as opposed to his usual brash, authoritative voice as could be.
"The important thing is you tried, my love. They have to acknowledge THAT if nothing else."
She used a thumb to gently smooth, massage a temple. He sighed contentedly. "That feels nice, Ellie. You always know just what to do. How would I get along without you?"
He sat up again suddenly, motioned to his lap. "Come 'ed."
She perched on his knee as she'd so often done as a little girl. Their arms were around each other now, their heads together.
"You know it still surprises me sometimes to realize that you're basically as tall as me. I guess I thought you'd always be little," he told her.
"You SAID that once, that you'd always be bigger than me. Remember?" She smiled.
"Yeah. Who knew you'd someday turn into this sexy, long-legged thing."
A mischievous hand caressed her thigh and moved down her calf as if illustrating the point.
"I can never decide what I like best, these (He explored her leg once again.) Or these." He was at her breasts now, his fingers trailing over her nipples lazily. "Both?"
"Someone must be feeling better."
"You're just the medicine I need, always."
He kissed her, a wet, clinging open-mouthed kiss that quickly included his tongue, tasting her, exploring.
Ellen could feel the stirring in his lap now, his breathing growing a bit ragged. She turned to straddle him, moved against him with the grace of a dancer, a torture of pleasure.
"Clothes off," he commanded in a husky tone in her ear.
"You first."
"Now how am I supposed to do that when you're sitting on my stiffie?"
She reached for his jacket, slid it down his arms, unknotted his tie, undid the buttons of his shirt, her hands caressing his now bare chest as she bent her head to his neck.
"Fuck Ellie! A bit harder there and you'll draw blood. You wanna be the one to explain to Brian why I ended up with hickies all over me? What you do with those nails is bad enough. Me back probably looks like I was attacked by a werewolf."
"Oh, so you want me to behave like a proper Victorian lady who just lies there and thinks of England?"
"Definitely not!"
"All right then," she teased, nipping his neck once more, but gently.
"Ya might be changing me mind. It's actually kind of a turn on."
"I knew you liked it."
His shirt and tie found their way to the floor where his jacket already rested. She reached for his belt, the button of his suit pants.
"I'm getting the raw end of the deal here. You haven't taken off a stitch."
She pushed him back onto the bed, hovered over him, inching her dress up ever so slowly. When he grew impatient, rose up, attempted to remove it himself she shoved him back down onto the mattress, holding his arms above his head, her mouth suspended tantalizingly close to his but not making contact.
"Ellen if I don't get to fuck you soon I'm going to spurt just from the frustration."
She licked his bottom lip.
"You are such a prick teaser."
"All right. Just to show I'm not completely heartless, you can touch."
She released his arms. He wasted no time in pulling her dress over her head, leaving her in nothing but her underthings, a white, lacy set he loved.

"You look like an angel, a right sexy angel, " he told her, reaching for her breasts. In seconds he had bared them, pulled her toward his waiting mouth so he could suckle each in turn.
She moved out of his reach, inched down his body so that she could finish undressing him, giving attention to his too long-ignored erection at last.
"Turn. I want a taste."
John never failed to give as well as receive, often at the same time like this, behaving as if she were a delicacy he could not wait to sample. He disposed of her knickers, gifted her with his expert fingers as well as his delightful mouth and talented tongue.
It never took long. "Holy bleeding fuck Johnny!"
"You always go back to the secret scouser you are when you cum. Did ya know that?"
He gave her bottom a playful slap. "As much as I love having me cock in that sweet mouth, I like it better in that sweet little cunt. It's on to the rumpy pumpy."
She welcomed him into her arms, sighing contentedly as he entered her at last, her legs wrapped around his waist in her favorite position.
"This is the only good thing on this godawful tour," he insisted as he made love to her. "Bri needs to give you a raise."
"He probably leaves it to you to provide the bonus."
"Tell him you're getting ripped off."
"Maybe I should owe HIM."
"I'm no bargain at half the price Luv."
"Oh I don't know. You're pretty cute and well trained. I think I'll keep you."
"What gave you the idea that it's YOU who has ME?"
"Norwegian Wood?"
"You caught on to that one then."
"If you were trying to hide it, you didn't try very hard."
"You should be flattered-famous rock 'n roller writing songs about you."
"Oh I am, I am, but maybe you should give me a percentage of the royalties," she joked.

"So you're after me money now? I thought it was just my body."
"That's only an extra."
"I'll give you extra you tart."
Their words degenerated into moans, primal sounds of pleasure until at last he lay still on top of her, both of them satiated, his warm panting breath in her ear.
Suddenly Ellen shrieked as a rather impish Paul McCartney bounced down on the bed.
"What do you think you're doing Macca?"
"You seemed a bit gutted. I wanted to make sure our Ellen managed to sort you out."
"Our Ellen? You're daft if ya think I'm sharing now. Sod off."
"Come on John. It's not like I haven't seen your bare arse before."
"Well you ain't seen HERS, and you're not gonna ya perv. Now get out so I can finish shagging me bird."
"I thought you WERE finished."
"You listening at keyholes now Paulie?"
"Don't have to. She's a regular window rattler Johnny."
"Maybe I'm just that good McCartney."
"Is that what SHE told ya? You've gotta stop doing that Luv. Don't you think he's cocky enough already?"
"Get on with ya before I SHOW you me cock."
"Don't have me magnifying glass with me."
"Fuck you Paulie."
"Ya offering? Sorry I prefer birds"
"Get out now ya stupid git!"