𝑻𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑯𝑶𝑵𝑬𝒀, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔

✵ 𝑱𝑬𝑾𝑬𝑳 / 𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵

requested by caitlinlovesbookss
jewel
༊
'64

she was adorned in fierce golds. they devoured her. from her glistening fingers to the curves of her painted lips, she glimmered.

hands extended far out, she greets wide-toothed producers who stutter and chortle and stare unabatedly at her. their touch lingers on her slender fingers, green and ruby rings running jagged against their fat thumbs. they want to know how she afforded her grandeur. they ask of her lineage, hint at her escapades, rub her back greedily. she just laughs at them.

it was a heartily sardonic laughter that they couldn't decipher. it starts at her belly, bubbles up to her ribs, simmers at her lavendered shoulders, and tumbles out of her proud lips.

another black suit hands her a cold drink that she takes with a delicate hand, wrapping one arm around her royal waist. she was alone at this party.

he noticed her then as he did any woman; a taunting physique for him to play with. fine legs shielded by a tight skirt, hips curved into her silk blouse, neck thin and covered in pearls. she took a sip and pretended she was nobody.

by chance their gazes met at once, her keen eyes soon boring into him once she got a better look at her admirer.
guileless, strikingly intelligent, deeply compelling.

a Beatle.

as he studied her further he wished, under primal instincts, that those eyes would fall beneath him, writhing and pleading upon an array of colorless bedsheets that would smell of fir musk and daffodil petals.

voices echoed everywhere around him, soft hands brushed at his arms as people shimmied around his body to get to the other side of the ballroom. the space was large, high ceilinged, large arches all around the walls. you could hardly hear yourself think for everyone seemed to be shouting. trying to touch the ears of the painted cherubs that struck love-spell arrows into the backs of gods on the ceiling. he was thoroughly enjoying it all, though. the endless invitations to these fanciful get-togethers piped his head so large he thought it'd pop! and all he had to do was make naughty quips and shake sweaty hands all night.

she looked bronze under the twinkling chandelier above their heads. there were two more just like it on either side, but this one was theirs. he smiled at her and she winked. then she was gone as an undertow of old money swept her away and left an empty table in her place.

he blinked and knitted his eyebrows together in a wave of absolute confusion. he hadn't noticed his perspiring until the hypnosis was lifted. droplets of cold sweat ran down his suited back to the leather of his patented boots. it was hot. he needed some air.

"oi, johnny! where've you been?" a drunken paul slurred at him, calloused hands pawing at the the front of john's chest to keep himself steady. he'd probably already laid three women by now and was steaming for more attention.

"i'll be outside," he replied, hands on paul's shoulders who raised his eyebrows quizzically, leaning his ear into john's face.

"outside," he repeated with a rough emphasis and moved paul out of the way. he swerved through a tremulous sea of rattling jewelry and snobby old men grunting about nothing before he reached the doors to the outside and welcomed the chill of the night against his beet-red face.