George Harrison Imagines

Who Needs Tights?

I walk quickly down the empty street, arms crossed over my chest.

It's freezing. Goosebumps prickle across my bare legs, my mind chastising me for opting out of wearing tights.

It's going to be bloody sweltering at the club. The few minutes of chill will be worth it. I argue back to myself, my feet pounding rhythmically on the uneven pavement.

I step oddly, the ice catching me and nearly pulling me to the ground. "Shit!" I exclaim, waving my arms to keep balance.

Once I regain control, I hurry, carefully, down the last block and into the club.

Just as I thought. It is boiling hot down in the little club. I'm warmed up by the time I take my seat at the bar.

It is packed in here! More so than usual. I suppose they all came to see the fellas playing up on stage.

They're pretty good! The best I've ever heard here. I bob my head to the music and order myself a drink.

I sit watching the boys, they're all incredibly handsome. One in particular keeps looking my way, causing a faint blush to dust my cheeks.

All too soon their set ends, and the lads disappear to the back. I turn around to order another drink, when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I turn back to see one of the guitar players. I smile at him, and he sits on the empty stool beside me.

"Are you here alone, pretty thing?" He asks, leaning toward me.

I raise my eyebrow, "what if I am?"

He grins, his brown eyes gleaming mischievously as they flick down to my very filled out sweater.

"Excuse me, I'd prefer to be addressed by my face if you please." I say, a hint of annoyance lacing my words.

He leans in even closer, practically drooling on me, "you've got a great set of tits. How about giving us a feel, eh?" Without skipping a beat he grabs my left breast and squeezes it.

I gasp, reeling my hand back to give him a slap. Suddenly he's being pulled from his seat by a very handsome man.

"Fuck off, John, she's clearly not interested." He seethes.

I recognize him as the other guitarist.

"You fuck off, Harrison. I got here first. Think I couldn't see where your eyes were all night?" John replies shaking out of his grasp.

"Go!" He says, his voice deep and dangerous, his thick eyebrows pulled down.

John gives me one last look before stalking off into the crowd.

He takes John's unwillingly abandoned seat, "I'm so sorry 'bout him, miss...John is a bit of a wanker sometimes. Going after all the pretty girls."

I smile shyly at him, placing my hand on his gently, squeezing it appreciatively. "Thank you for saving me, he was such a pig! Grabbing me like that! The nerve!"

"It's my pleasure, darling. My name's George, what's yours?"

"I'm _______....it's very nice to be rescued by someone so very...handsome, George....."

I see a slight flush creep up his cheeks, "anything for a beautiful girl..." he mutters, turning to flag down the bartender.

"What are you drinking, love?" He asks, motioning to my empty glass.

"A rum and coke." I answer just as the bartender arrives.

"Make that two rum and cokes, please." He addresses the bartender, who goes off to quickly make us our drinks.