Alexander Oliver Richard Cohen White – or rather simply shortened to Lex White – was born of prestige and refinery and yet he found himself facing an honest truth of himself. Lex was already edging into his late thirties-early forties, his gold wedding band dulled of any shine in the dim lighting of the hotel suite. He had children, a wife. He had a life like any other ordinary man who was forced to interview characters he wasn't entirely pleased about. But Lex, like many other man who struggled internally with themselves, set his eyes on the second-eldest member of a new group named the Beatles.
Every man, whether they're influenced in the uncommon way or not, has a type of man they are attracted to. Lex was more often attracted to the man blessed with a mild handsomeness and soft-spoken demeanour than the kind of man John Lennon proudly proclaimed to be. A hard man, a complicated man. A man who spoke the truth and yet lied all the time, a man who straightened up and yet slouched, a man who worked hard and yet was terribly lazy. Whatever Lex was drawn to John for, he himself could not comprehend it. But there it was.
Lex discovered his desire when he entered the eerily empty hotel suite of the four young men in Ireland; 1963 was already proving to be a distinctive year in Lex's life with the abrupt alerting of his wife having an affair, his mother trying to divide her son from his wife, and he was confronting the side of him society had taught him to suppress.
Lex, a towering man of six-foot-four in height, strolled into the suite with his long fingers curled and tucked into the confines of his pockets. The moment he paused in the middle of the living room, studying the mess made of biscuits, coca cola bottles and cigarette ashes, he could hear the noises. Banging of a headboard against the wall, the long, sensual moans of a young woman being pounded into, and then there was John. Nobody could mistake the audible curses muttered in his Liverpudlian accent and nasally voice.
He should leave. He should turn on the heels of his leather shoes and walk right out of the suite door, down the hotel corridor toward the elevator and go straight back home to his wife and children. But Lex, a dark-haired character of a rather handsome, pointed features that clearly reflected his thoughts and pondering mind frequently, disobeyed his educated manners and made strides toward the door where John's voice could be heard.
Lex came right against the wooden surface, running his fingers down it until they traced along the round curve of the doorknob. With four fingers, he twisted the doorknob and gently jerked the door open where it creaked lowly. He peered in through a gap, meeting the image of a woman straddling John's waist on the bed with his head buried in her chest. She was blonde; lengthy tresses of straight platinum hair cascading down her back while she shifted up and down atop of him.
The same way a car crash would draw one's eyes and hold a person's attention, Lex couldn't drag his gaze away. It was a normal act for any adult but the brush of John's auburn hair and the little shifts of movement beneath the woman kept his attention. If only for a little while before his wife popped back into his head and he swiftly but carefully shut the door, feeling disgusted with himself.
Early in the morning the next day, John caught Lex cold in the kitchen. The musician strolled into the kitchen with his shirt unbuttoned and his hair a mess. Fortunately, he wore his trousers tightened and fitted to his hips which had made such a commotion of audio the previous evening.
But Lex froze solid when John leaned against the counter, slipping his boots on his feet.
"D'you enjoy the show?"
Inside, Lex was screaming at the top of his lungs. Outside, his sharp, pointed expression remained completely void of any indication he knew what John was talking about.
"Did you?" Lex quipped, bringing his hot cup of tea to his lips.
"I enjoyed the show, of course. Very personal for me."
"Well, that's all very good for you. It's always nice when a show goes well."
"I'm not talking about that performance."
"I'm talking about the concert, what are you talking about?"
John didn't even flash a grin as he would often do; he didn't press his tongue against his bottom lip, joke or try to throw Lex off with a laugh or something made of mirth. But no, he stared hard at Lex through his almond-shaped eyes.
"Talk to Brian. I've been through with him before."
Then turned and walked back into the room where the blonde was still sound asleep and the rest of his clothing were. Lex took another sip of his tea.
Then he burst out laughing.
YOU ARE READING
Paperback Tales
FanfictionA collection of short stories involving four young men, maybe a girl or two, and all from the head of a girl who gets bored and inspired during the day.
