Press

3 January 1965

Idk how I ended up with two pretty similar chapters. Prefer this one uwu

Be forewarned, this one's a bit more intense.

~~~~~

You met Paul at a club one night. He was at a booth, and as expected, female fans were gathered around him, trying to get a look, and maybe a touch.

A blonde beside him took his mouth. He kissed back eagerly, hungrily. Paul loved attention.

She was very pretty you had to admit. A real Bridgette Bardot type with long poofy hair and ample curves.

A red head sat on his right side, pressing her body against his side.

You could tell he was in bliss, warm feminine bodies pressed against him from both sides, excited to touch him.

If you weren't mistaken, their hands dipping below the table was causing Paul to grin widely, his eyelashes fluttering.

In all honesty, the scene was a bit pleasurable to watch. He looked quite indecent, getting touched in public no less. He really was a thrill-seeker that one.

Though being the jealous type, you didn't like him seeking pleasure from others. You'd be fine with sharing, it would be selfish to keep him to yourself, but you wanted it to be on your terms.

Paul's eyes found yours across the room. You could tell he was unsure if he was seeing you or not. He must be lightheaded, all the blood rushing elsewhere. He squinted his eyes endearingly, his skin wrinkling. His cheeks were flushed, the women not stopping their administrations. You raised your eyebrow at him, tilting your head.

You watched realization dawn on his face, eyes widening. He turned his head to one of the women, and she took it as an invitation to kiss him. He maintained a sideways glance at you, body resisting the urge to detach himself. His eyes rolled back in his head, groaning into her mouth.

You made your way over to the table, resting your palms on it.

"Hello girls," you said in a friendly manner, then turned your attention to him, becoming more sly. "Mind if I borrow McCartney for a moment?"

The girls looked a bit miffed, not wanting to give him up. You weren't famous per se, but you had the odd photograph with him show up in the tabloids.

"S'alright." Paul said to them, implementing his famous charm. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

The girls looked unimpressed, but hesitantly uncurled themselves from his body.

Paul looked peeved to lose the warmth on him. He discreetly, very quickly zipped up his fly under the table. You grinned. Little minx. You'd suspected as much.

"Thank you." You said to the girls pleasantly. "Come along, Paul."

He stood up awkwardly, his predicament evident. He followed you out to the car you had waiting.

Paul shifted uncomfortably in his seat as you took the short drive back to his place. You didn't put any tension in the air, but you could tell he was a bit irritated at his fun being cut short. He tapped his fingers on the windowsill wordlessly, crossing and uncrossing his legs.

When you walked into his flat, Paul began his onslaught.

"Look, I'm sorry." He said disingenuously. His frustration was clear. "Thought you didn't care?"

"I just don't like to see it, that's all." You glowered at him.

He whipped his body around, eyebrows furrowed.