Lady Madonna

One Night Won't Kill You

YEAR: 1964

"Come on McCartney, just cause ye got a fiancé doesn't mean ye can't have a little fun," John teased.
"Ye don't have to live with the bitch," he chuckled. "Ye don't understand how easily angered Jane gets, it's crazy,"
"One night at a strip joint won't get ye killed, will it?"
"I don't know," he shrugged.
"Come on," John hit his shoulder.
"Fine," he finally agreed.
"Great."

***

"Hey Mad!" my boss yelled.
"What's up?" I rolled my eyes.
"Do ye want bar or stage tonight?"
"Can't I do both?" I chuckled.
"Go ahead," he smirked.
"Thanks,"

I walled back to the dressing room to finish getting ready. I put my hair into a bun and spit curled two little strands by my temples. For my make up I put on my darkest shade of red lipstick and winged my black eyeliner.

"Ye look hot tonight Madonna," my friend teased.
"As do you Nanc,"
"Hey, hey, hey, we're at work. No need to mention my real name," she chuckled.
"My bad," I mumbled as I applied my mascara. "What's yer 'name' again?"
"Don't be cheeky," she smiled as she took her outfit into another room.
"Lookin hot," I chuckled as I put my head piece in.
"Thanks," she took a seat and began putting her shoes on.
"I gotta go,"
"Good luck," she got up and gave me a quick hug.
"Thanks. I'll see ye at the bar later,"
"Bye love,"

***

"See Paulie, this isn't that bad," John chuckled as he winked at a few of my friends.
"This place is dingy and gross, John,"
"It's actually rather nice," I smiled as I walked towards the bar.
"Hello," Johns eyes widened as he followed me.
"Hi love," I gave him a toothy grin as I grabbed a glass. "What do ye want?"
"I'll take a scotch,"
"Here ye go,"
"Thanks-"
"How are ye payin?"
"Excuse me?"
"How are ye payin?"
"I-I don't understand,"
"Pay now or put it on a tab?"
"Tab will be fine. The names-"
"Yeah yeah, I know yer name," I scribbled John Lennon onto a piece of notebook paper.
"I feel like I've seen ye somewhere," he narrowed his eyes as he took a sip.
"Well yer only here every other night," I chuckled.
"Paul, come here and meet the nice bird," John chuckled.
"Hi," he shyly said.
"What do ye drink honey?"
"Tea will be fine,"
"Honey, this is a strip joint, not Buckingham Palace,"
"I'll have a beer," he sighed.
"Here ye are," I smiled. He took his wallet out and began counting his money. "This ones on me dear,"
"Thanks," he smiled.
"Yer hot," John smugly said.
"Thanks," I winked.
"Hey love, I don't have any money," John started, "maybe we could work something out," he reached for my breast.
"John!" he slapped his hand away. "She's not an object! Don't disrespect her!"
"It's her job Paul!"
"Go fuck a duck," Paul rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his beer.
"Thanks," I blushed.
"No problem," he smiled. "So what's yer name?"
"Lady Madonna," I chuckled.
"Interesting...have any desire to tell me yer real name?"
"Nope,"
"Alright then."

***

I woke up the next morning with a slight hangover. I sniffled my nose and looked next to me; drunk fucker was still here. I put my glasses and my bathrobe on and strolled into the living room. I turned on the telly and made myself a cup of coffee with three creams and two sugars. I took my spot on the couch and waited for him to wake up. After about an hour I heard my bedroom door open and out came my drunken knight.