George’s armsssssss can you write something referencing them 🤤 and make sure to add Pattie
On the way back from making love in the depths of Richmond Forest, Pattie tripped over a root and embarrassingly went sprawling across the path.
“Fucking hell, Flower Girl! Are you ok?” immediately George was at her side.
Pattie was close to tears. “I think I’ve sprained my ankle.” She was gingerly rubbing her ankle. “It really hurts!”
George offered his hand and helped her to her feet. “Can you stand on it?”
Pattie tried to put her weight on it, but cried out in pain. “It hurts too much, Music Boy.”
“I’ll carry you to the car. Don’t worry.” George started to put and arm around Pattie and one under her knees.
“ I’m sure I’m much too heavy!” Pattie protested.
“Baby, I’ve been carry a guitar around since I was 13. You don’t weigh much more.” George effortlessly picked Pattie up. She put her arms around his neck and they continued down the path to his car. “That was a good shag, Flower Girl.” George kissed the top of her head.
Pattie hugged his neck to keep from slipping down. “ I can’t believe you talked me into that! Sometimes you are so naughty!” She tried to sound stern but she loved the fact that George got off on making love outdoors and in places that were not entirely private.
“But you love it.” He hitched her up higher in his arms. “And you love me.”
“I do love you, Music Boy.”!she kissed his cheek. “You are so strong. It’s very impressive!”
“You’re my Flower Girl, Pattie.” He kissed her again. Wishing he could really kiss her. “Here we are!” He helped her stand on one foot while he unlocked the car door. “I will always take care of you.”
Pattie beamed as she got into the car. She was in love with George and would be for the rest of her life.
P.S. According to Klaus Voormann, Pattie and George called each other Music Boy and Flower Girl. The Fool painted Music Boy and Flower Girl on either side of the fireplace at Kinfauns. I know later they called each other Darling.
Klaus Voormann described the fireplace at George Harrison's Kinfauns bungalow as a significant, deeply personal project that reflected Harrison's immersion in Indian culture.
According to Klaus Voormann's autobiography, Warum spielst du Imagine nicht auf dem weißen Klavier, John? (2003):
Krishna Mural: Voormann noted that Harrison pointed out the new fireplace, highlighting a painting of Krishna at its center.
Symbol of Change: Voormann remarked on how the fireplace reflected Harrison's dedication to Indian culture and philosophy, stating that Harrison seemed transformed, "like an Indian himself" with "dark eyes sparkling with enthusiasm".
Active Participation: Voormann, along with the Dutch design collective The Fool, worked on the mural, and mentioned that Harrison himself "grabbed a paintbrush" to help with the work.
The Mural's Subject: The fireplace mural featured Harrison and Patti Boyd as "Music Boy" and "Flower Girl," with a yogi figure surrounded by a light aura as the focal point.
I kind of have a crush on 1987 George…. These pictures of him at the 1987 Prince’s Trust Concert inspired this fanfiction.
Luckily she still had friends and was able to get a third row ticket for the Prince’s Trust Concert.
It had been 21 years since George had played a live concert in the UK, and Pattie planned to be there . Even if she had to see Eric. Even if Olivia was there. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was that George would know she was there.
George’s set was fantastic! Better than she could have dreamed. The crowd went wild when Elton John introduced George and Ringo. Ringo spotted her immediately and when he whispered something to George, George looked her way. He Played While My Guitar Gently Weeps. She could tell he was nervous but excited. And most likely irritated that the microphone would not stay in place. It was probably his best performance and she had to give Eric credit, though she was loathe to. They were older and somehow sexier than the last time they’d played this together at the Concert for Bangladesh. Could that really have been 16 years ago?
The entire set was fabulous. She was glad they played Here Comes the Sun. The audience went crazy and George gave a little smile that showed he was moved by the adoration. But what really thrilled her was how often he looked at her. Even from the stage she could feel the power of his glances when he caught her eye.
Ringo singing A Little Help From My Friends was so touching. George smiling at Ringo the entire time, was proof of their continued love for each other.
When their set was over, she got the hell out of there. She cried a little in the cab on the way to her mews house in Kensington. God. She regretted ever leaving George. She couldn’t deny she had loved Eric, but he was too fucked up to deal with. George had been moody and awful that last year, but she’d been an idiot to not give him another chance. She wondered who he was fucking tonight. He always wanted sex after a concert. It was the only time he would be wanting to satisfy himself. As a lover, George had been all about giving pleasure. Except the times he’d come off the stage, and he needed that physical release to get back to normal. That George was exciting and a tiny bit scary, but mostly electrifying because it was so different from the usual.
Ringo pointed Pattie out to him in the audience at Wembley. First he thought she must have come to see Eric, but her eyes were always on him when he looked her way. It made it hard to focus knowing she was there. Of course, Pattie would be there. Just knowing she was there made it worthwhile that he had accepted the invitation to perform. After it was over, he used the excuse he was going out with the other musicians and sent Olivia and Dhani home with the driver. Then he made excuses to Jeff and Eric. Told them he’d meet up with them later. With Ringo there was no need for excuses because Ringo had seen Pattie. Then he got someone to get him a cab and he gave the driver an address in Kensington. Her mews house since she’d left Eric. He hoped she’d be home. She might have gone out with friends. As the cab pulled up to her place, he saw lights on. God, let her be alone. She answered the door and pulled him in. Instantly she was in his arms.
“I knew you’d show up,” she laughed as she looked up at him and threw her arms around his neck.
“You know me too well,” his voice was husky. He picked her up and pushed her up against the wall of her hallway. She wrapped her legs around his waist.
“You were magnificent tonight,” and that was the last thing she could say before his mouth covered hers and he was kissing her deeply and thoroughly.
He leaned his forehead against hers. “When I saw you tonight, I knew I had to have you. I still want you, Pattie. I always will.” His whisper was rough from singing.
“I want you, too, George.” He had always wanted her after a live performance. Tonight had been his first public performance in the UK in years. She had purposely gone and gotten a seat where he’d be sure to see her. She had known he’d be aroused after a sold out appearance. 18 years after their breakup, it was still exciting for any of the remaining Beatles to appear in public. She searched his fathomless brown eyes. “You were terribly sexy tonight up on that stage.”
The corner of his mouth raised in a cocky little smile. His gaze never left hers and she gasped when he put two fingers in his mouth. He pulled them out, wet with spit and groped under her nightgown, with a precision born from years of practice, found that delicate spot that caused some breathless moaning from his ex-wife.
God she turned him on. Always had. Getting her off had forever been a huge thrill for him. When he’d come off a stage, if she’d been around, he couldn’t relax again until he had urgent fervid sex with her. Pattie had always been most understanding of his euphoria after being on stage.. The most enthusiastic to satisfy this need. Sure they’d had more than willing fans when they’d been on tour, eager girls Mal or Neil would round up. Yet nothing compared to Pattie. She had always been happy to satisfy this need. He missed that about her more than anything.
“Let’s go get in bed,” she gasped. He followed her to her bedroom. His jacket flung over a chair on the way. Impatiently, they took off their clothes. Pattie loved his still slight frame and the unshaven scruff on his face was decidedly sexy. George couldn’t help but admire her still perfect breasts and her long legs. Still the most beautiful girl. His girl. She’d always be his.
It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t for her. It was all about him. She didn’t mind. It was thrilling to be needed and wanted and desired. There was an urgency in him, just a kind of desperate need. And she happily accepted it with love and passion knowing like she’d always had, exactly what would bring him relief. By the time he was finally spent, and he spoke, and told her he loved her, his voice had changed. The urgency was gone, replaced by that gentle warmth she remembered so well. He stayed wrapped around her, the comfort of her arms bringing him back down to earth.
“Want to get dressed and go meet Jeff and Eric and Ringo for drinks?”’ She couldn’t believe he was serious!
“While I’d give anything to see the expression on Eric’s if I walked in on your arm….” She didn’t have the words to finish her thought.
What she wanted was for him to spend the night and to wake up next to him. To sit at her kitchen table and drink tea and talk about nothing and everything. She wouldn’t ask though. He loved being with his mates and she wanted him to be happy on this glorious night. He would try to hide it, act like it didn’t matter but she knew he was chuffed at the crowds’ wild enthusiasm at his and Ringo’s performances.
“You go on. The show was wonderful. You deserve to celebrate.” She leaned over and kissed him. She hadn’t cared for his beards when he was younger, but the scruff was decidedly sexy.
“I was relieved you didn’t play Something.” She ran her finger along his jaw.
“Eric didn’t want to.” He caught her hand and kissed it.
“Good. I hate him. I don’t ever want that song to come out of his mouth again.” Pattie couldn’t resist. She kissed him some more.
“I’m going to Los Angeles in a few months,” he told her as soon as he was free to talk. “I could rent a beach house. We could play house for a while?” He held her while she curled up next to him.
“Sounds like a dream come true.” To get out of London and away from Eric. To spend even a short time with George would be heaven.
She watched him get dressed and then called him a cab. She kissed him good bye and watched him ride off. He might be gone for now, but they’d be together soon. She could hardly wait.
During a moment of boredom at work, an idea for a silly fic popped into my mind, and the whole thing wrote itself in my head. (I wish writing was always that easy.) So, here it is.
HAIRDRESSING
Pattie didn’t notice at first. She was kneeling on the floor in the large sitting room, absorbed in arranging a collection of her photos on a large sheet of card spread out in front of her. She had been fairly engrossed. Yet, bit by bit it started to impinge on her concentration and eventually it was irritating the hell out of her.
She glared across the room at George.
He was ensconced on one of the large floor cushions, and he was writing a song. She had no problem with the song, it sounded as if it would be lovely, when she could hear more than one line at a time, over and over. He was picking out chords, and was singing into a tape recorder, and making notes on a sheet of paper next to him. All fine.
What was not fine was his hair.
When he leaned forward to sing into the tape recorder or make notes, his hair would fall forward. It had grown quite a lot longer recently. When it fell forward he would push it back behind his ear. Or he would ram his fingers through what had been the fringe before it grew out and push it back from his forehead. And then it would fall forward again and then he would push it back again, or stick it behind his ear again.
Once Pattie had begun to notice, she couldn’t unnotice.
Eventually she decided that she couldn’t bear it any longer.
She left the photos where they were on the sheet of card and pushed herself to her feet. She stepped very carefully over the photos so as not to disarrange them and left the sitting room. George didn’t notice; he was too busy with his song. And his hair.
Pattie trotted down the hall and into their bedroom, and crossed to the dressing table. She scrabbled around in large silver bowl which she’d brought back from India, and returned to the sitting room in a few minutes with a couple of elastic bands, some hair grips and a comb.
She knelt next to George, who looked up at her and enquired vaguely, “Hmmm?”
“George.”
“What?”
”I need to do something with your hair.”
“Huh?”
“It’s driving me mad.”
“What…? It’s my hair, what you going on about?”
“It keeps falling over your face.”
“Well, I don’t care.”
“Well I do.”
“What’s it got to do with you?”
“I have to watch you forever fiddling with it.”
“I’m not… Hey!”
“It’ll only take a minute. Hold still.”
“Gerroff!!”
”George… I need to comb it through a bit”
“That pulls.”
“I’m just tying up the front bits…”
“Wha…? You…? Yer making me look like a fucking poof!”
“Don’t be silly.” She batted his hand away as he tried to stop her gathering the long strands together in a band.
“I’m not! You’re doing my hair like a girl’s. My Auntie Norma did her hair like that!”
“You don’t look like your Auntie Norma.”
“How d’ya know? Have you seen her? Ouch!!”
“George will you stop making such a fuss. Look, I’ve done it… sort of.”
“No. I’ll…”
“I’m just going to get my mirror. George Harrison, will you leave that alone!! I’ll be straight back.”
Pattie raced from the sitting room to the bedroom, grabbed the hand mirror from the dressing table and dashed back, in time to see George trying to dismantle her handiwork. “I said leave it!” she barked. “Now.” She held the mirror up so that he could see himself. “What do you think?”
There fell a silence.
Pattie sat back on a floor cushion and folded her legs underneath her. She watched her husband. She watched as he studied his reflection.
His eyes widened. His head tilted slightly to one side. Pattie tried not to smile. “What do you think?” she asked, in a studied and nonchalant tone.
George tore his attention away from the mirror. “Yeah,” he replied, in an equally nonchalant manner. ”S‘ok.”
“Do you want me to take it down now?”
George shook his head. He then looked down and up a couple of times. “It does stop it going in me face.”
“Yes, it does.”
He then strummed up his guitar, looked at his written notes and began to play again.
Pattie smiled quietly to herself, and returned to arranging the photos on the big card in front of her.
That was John’s thought every time he looked out over the water while sailing around the islands in Tahiti. He had been in a mood since they got on the sailboat.
Too blue, too bright. He always put his sunglasses on first thing and kept them on most of the day.
He stood at the rail of the little sailboat with a cigarette between his fingers, squinting against the sun even though he had on his darkest sunglasses. The reflection of the sun off the water hurt his eyes—or it would if he didn’t have his sunglasses on.
Behind him, he could hear her laughing.
Pattie.
More of a giggle. It annoyed him how happy she was.
John took a drag and didn’t turn around.
“Don’t be a miserable sod,” Cynthia said, coming up beside him in her white shorts and striped top. She leaned on the rail and smiled up at him. “We are in paradise.”
He looked at her.
She was lovely. Of course she was lovely.
Beautiful blue eyes. Blonde hair. His wife. The mother of his son.
He loved her. Didn’t he?
“Paradise is too fucking bright,” he muttered.
God, he was out of sorts. He was supposed to be having fun.
Cynthia laughed and kissed his shoulder, then disappeared to the other side of the boat.
John watched her go and felt like a bastard because the minute she’d left, he turned around.
Pattie sat cross-legged on the deck beside George, wearing George’s white terry cloth top he’d gotten in Miami over her swimsuit. Her legs were tan and endless. Her blonde hair blew around her face. George was whispering something in her ear, and she laughed and leaned into him.
George looked daft. He was absolutely gone. Besotted.
John snorted, in disgust or jealousy or both.
“Poor idiot,” he muttered. But really, George was a lucky idiot.
George looked at Pattie as if she were a miracle dropped from the fucking sky just for him.
And Pattie looked at George like he was everything she’d ever dreamed of.
It had happened on the flight over. George and Cyn had fallen asleep, and John and Pattie had sat together drinking and talking. Her bright blue eyes had never left his face as she listened to everything he said. Really listened and asked intelligent questions. She’d laughed at all his jokes and sarcastic remarks. The next thing he knew, he was in love. He was a sucker for a girl who laughed when he was being funny.
Now he was stuck on a boat in the middle of the South Pacific with no way to get away from the two cooing lovebirds.
He finished his cigarette and flicked the butt overboard. Then he joined the other three, who were now looking into a bucket.
“Look, John.” Pattie pulled on his hand, and he sat. The bucket had some fish. “These are clownfish, and that one is an angelfish.”
John could hardly concentrate on the fish. His skin burned where Pattie had touched it. But George and Cynthia and Pattie were all enthralled, so he pretended to be, too.
The worst thing was he couldn’t say anything. He laughed to himself, imagining their shocked expressions if he were to announce he was in love with Pattie. Then he fantasized about pushing George and Cynthia overboard. Maybe then he could enjoy his holiday.
Since he could do neither of those things, he crawled out on the lowered mast and took a nap.
“John, wake up!”
Pattie was very gently shaking his foot. Was this a dream, John wondered.
“We’re going swimming. Come with us.”
So he did as he was bidden.
And it was fun.
George snorkeled. Pattie swam with Cynthia. And he, lazy as ever, drifted around on an inflatable raft and watched those three—who seemed to actually enjoy his company and want him around—play and splash in the beautiful blue of the South Pacific.
For a moment he was happy. Happy to be outdoors. Cyn was right. They were in paradise.
Until George snuck up on him and dumped him into the water.
“I’ll get you, you fucking—” John sputtered, and George laughed and dove under the water. Cyn swam up to him, and they hung onto the raft and smiled at each other.
Because he felt like kissing someone, he kissed his wife. She kissed him back and looked so happy and pleased, he felt guilty for cheating on her, even if it was only in his mind.
“You seem to be in a better mood,” Cynthia noted.
“I am on holiday in paradise.” John kissed her again. “With the girl I love.”
Which he reckoned was the truth, even if he wasn’t sure which girl he meant.
The four of them were tired but happy from their long day of being in the sun and water. The crew made them a delicious dinner of freshly caught fish and lovely vegetables and opened a bottle of wine. Then another. Even though they were on holiday, John and George played their guitars. It was thrilling under the stars.
Cynthia was trying hard to stay awake.
John could see Pattie looking adoringly at George. He hoped no one could tell he had been watching Pattie all night. The way she tilted her head when she was listening. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear. The giggle that should have been annoying, yet he found charming.
Then it was time to go to bed.
As it was every other night, it was going to be torture.
The four of them so close that John could hear every little sigh and whisper. The curtain that divided the cabin might as well not have even been there. The murmured sweet talk that he couldn’t quite catch, but could tell by the tone was intimate. That groan in the back of George’s throat when he was about to get off. The catch in Pattie’s voice when George was doing who knew what to her. John knew exactly what George was doing. That’s what made it such agony.
He’d been happy when George had fallen in love with Pattie. George had never had a real girlfriend. But then George couldn’t shut up about her. He’d go on and on and on until John wanted to strangle him.
Yes, Pattie was gorgeous.
Yes, Pattie looked like Bridgette Bardot.
Yes, Pattie had fantastic tits.
He was sure George would be more than happy to tell John every detail. George was like that whenever he took an interest in something new. Guitars. Cars. Girls.
Tonight was no different. They were in love, and nothing as minor as he and Cynthia being a mere six inches away would stop their intense, irresistible, passionate lust for each other.
Beside him, Cynthia sighed in her sleep. The sounds of love so close to him made sleep impossible. In fact, it was both painful and a turn-on. He rolled over and pulled Cynthia closer. He started kissing her neck, and to his surprise she turned and started kissing him.
Maybe it was the magic of Tahiti and the sun and salt water. Being on a sailboat in the middle of nowhere was romantic and erotic; there was no denying it.
George might be madly in love, but he was intuitive, as John well knew, and soon it was a competition—like sharing a room in a hotel while having sex at the same time with girls Mal found for them. Only John doubted that they would trade Cynthia and Pattie when they finished.
But for now, in the tiny cabin bobbing in the ocean, without any discussion, John and George would see who could get their girl to moan the loudest or cry out when they got them to climax. Even as he made frantic love to his wife, John knew George would win this contest. Though Cyn was a little tipsy from the wine, she would probably still control herself, while Pattie was not yet used to the intensity of new love.
When Pattie finally, it was quiet but it was still a scream, called out George’s name, the game was over.
“Oh, George! Oh, George!” John could not stop himself from mocking Pattie.
And when George’s arm came through the gap in the curtain and slugged his arm, he and Cynthia held each other and laughed. To Pattie’s credit, John could hear her unmistakable giggle.
Then the four of them settled down, and as John drifted off to sleep, the answer came to him.
He was smitten with Pattie for the same reason George was.
She was fresh and easy and sweet and thought George—and even he—were great because she didn’t know yet what moody, selfish bastards they really were.
And it felt good to be adored again, even if it was by association with George.
When he woke up, Cyn was still asleep. Her hair covered her face, and she was hugging her pillow. John stepped into his swimming trunks and went up on deck.
Ahh, the first ciggie of the day.
He leaned against the railing and looked toward the green mountains of whatever island was in the distance. It was beautiful here, and for some reason he felt better today.
Morning.”
He nearly jumped.
Pattie stood there in one of George’s shirts again, hair messy from sleep, bare legs in the morning chill.
She looked so sweet and innocent.
John smiled . “Morning.”
She smiled back and stepped beside him, leaning on the rail.
“You look happy this morning”
“I’m always happy.”
“No,” she said lightly. “You’ve been, I don’t know. Distant.
John glanced sideways at her.
Her blue eyes full of interest. In him. Christ. He looked at her.
Then she reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes.
Without a thought. So innocent.
John froze.
There was nothing in it.
Just Pattie being sweet.
But her fingers touched his temple, then slid away.
“There,” she said. “You forgot to comb your hair.
John stared at her.
She smiled. Completely unaware.
George’s Pattie. Sweet little Pattie.
He laughed once, and looked away.
“You’re killing me, luv.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind.”
She tilted her head, looking at him.
John dropped his cigarette overboard and lit another.
“You smoke an awful lot,” she said.
“You talk an awful lot.”
She laughed.
He smiled despite himself.
And there it was, that dangerous moment. Just the two of them. Alone on the deck. Her smiling up at him.
He could say something now. Anything. He could be nice or tell her how he felt. You’re beautiful. I can’t stop thinking about you.
Instead—“George know you’re up here flirting with a married man?”
Her mouth fell open. Then she hit his arm.
“I am not flirting!”
John laughed.
She was flustered and adorable.
“So you admit it then.”
“I do not!”
She hit him again and he caught her wrist.
And then, her hand in his.
Her eyes wide. Her smile fading.
John held his breath. For one second, he thought he might kiss her.
And then, “Oi!” George.
John dropped her hand so fast.
George came up from below deck, barefoot and sleepy, grinning.
“There you are,” he said to Pattie.
She turned instantly, all smiles.
“There you are,” so happy to see him.
George slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.
John looked away.
Lit another cigarette though he was still holding one.
George reached for one of them.
John stared out at the scenery.
Pattie looked at him. Just for a second. Some understanding passed across her face.
Then George tugged her away toward breakfast.
John stood alone at the rail, smoke curling around his face, staring out at the sea. He laughed under his breath.
That was close, Lennon.
He took a drag. Watched them together.
George with his arm around her. Pattie smiling up at him
And John—John went back to the cabin to wake Cynthia before he did something or said something that couldn’t be undone. They still had three weeks together and he needed to mind himself.
“Wake up, Cyn. Breakfast.” And he found himself where he belonged. In the arms of the woman who had always loved him.
I hate when people dumb down Pattie as nothing more than a girlfriend of two famous musicians, she was a model who is now a photographer. Also they both treated her badly and both were bad marrieges.
George was an emotionally neglecting cheater and Eric was a woman beater and a rapist, but people refuse to acknowledge this cause “Oh but the songs they made about her were so beautiful!” The songs are good but definitely not the people who wrote them
Did you really think George and Pattie would get back together and not go to bed?
Part Two
a little sexy. You may only read this if you are over 18
When Pattie woke up, she couldn’t move. It took her a second to realize that she was in bed with George and that he had his arms around her and his leg draped over hers. They were both still dressed and under the covers.
As soon as she stirred, George woke up. “Hey, baby.” His voice, husky from sleep, was soft in her ear. His arms tightened around her as he started kissing her neck.
Pattie melted into his cuddle. “Mmmmmm, darling. That feels so good.”
Pattie turned in his arms to face him. Her hand caressed his face. “Kiss me.”
George’s mouth found hers, and his tender kiss let her know she was truly home. His lips were soft, and he was so gentle, but Pattie wanted more. Her fingers tangled in his long hair, still curly, his perm not quite grown out. His lips parted, and their tongues explored slowly, savoring their reacquaintance. As if a bolt of electricity passed between them, their kisses changed from gentle to frantic, and George’s hands pressed against her back as if trying to pull her even closer. Their kisses tasted of love and longing, and promises they would try to keep.
Their breathing became almost moans. Then, for a moment, still clinging to each other, they stopped and shared a silent pause, reading each other’s thoughts.
Without a word, George got up, took Pattie’s hand, and helped her out of bed. Then, with their arms around each other, they walked down the hall to their bedroom.
“It feels so good to have you here,” George told her as Pattie started to unbutton his shirt.
He slipped it off his shoulders, and then her hands were under his vest, running over his body before pulling the vest up and over his head. George began opening her blouse slowly, one button at a time, kissing every part of her skin as it was revealed. When he’d removed her shirt, he unfastened her bra, and she let it fall to the floor. They embraced desperately, feeling the warmth of each other’s skin. Then they both took off their jeans. George stood there naked while Pattie stood before him in only her blue silk knickers. George hooked his fingers in the elastic and pulled them down for her to step out of.
“God, you’re gorgeous.”
George was, as ever, in awe of his wife’s perfect body. Her beautiful, voluptuous breasts and her long legs still turned him on as much as the first time he’d seen her nude.
And George, even a bit too thin—Pattie realized he was probably living on toast and tea—was still her sexy rock guitarist.
They got into their bed and pulled the duvet over them. Their bodies still fit together perfectly. The feel of each other was new, yet familiar. George slid over her, hungry for her.
“I want you, darling,” Pattie whispered.
He kissed her mouth, and then his lips trailed from her mouth to her breasts, which needed his attention until she started breathing heavily. He continued down her belly, and then he was between her thighs.
George reached up for Pattie, and she held his hand against her heart. Then he did what only George could do. He made love to her with his mouth. Every kiss and lick and nip sent waves of trembling pleasure through her body.
He took his time, savoring the taste of her. She made a soft, steady sound of pleasure, and then, as he concentrated on her most sensitive spot, he could tell she was ready. Pattie did that little push with her hips, as if she could get closer to his mouth, and then she was moaning his name as he brought her to release.
They lay there breathing heavily.
“Come here,” she breathed, her words a caress. “I want to feel you in me.”
George settled between her legs and guided himself inside. They neither moved. The closeness was enough. Pattie wrapped her legs around George’s waist, and their hips began to sway in rhythm.
They rocked together until George collapsed on top of her. He laughed with happiness. Pattie held him as tight as she could.
“I love you,” they told each other at the same time.
They laughed some more.
“That felt so good, darling. Why, I haven’t…” Thank God she stopped herself. She’d almost told George she hadn’t gotten off from sex since the last time she had made love with him. “Anyway, that was wonderful.”
“Some things we know how to do right.”
George looked at her shining eyes and glowing face. He kissed her.
“I’m starving. Let’s go see what we can scrounge up.”
Pattie’s heart was filled with happiness. George needed her. Wanted her. Loved her.
“Let’s, darling. I’m sure I can whip something up.”
She giggled as she put her clothes on. When they were both dressed, they made their way down to the kitchen. Just like in the first days of being together, Pattie cooked while George opened some wine, and they talked and made plans late into the night.
After Eric’s American tour, we returned to England. One day I called George and asked him if it would be alright if I came over and got some of my things. I was glad George was there—he was very sweet, but looked so sad. Not only did I feel guilty for leaving him, but I truly wanted to come home.
Eric had been exciting at first. Being on tour was so much fun, but I missed George and our home. As bad as George had treated me, Eric was a million times worse. He had no manners. While George loved his family and mine, Eric seemed to care only for his grandmother, Rose. Eric was a horrible drunk. While George and I did drink and smoke pot and occasionally take cocaine, Eric was a raging alcoholic. Sometimes he would have to lie down on the stage to play his guitar. Plus, he was a mean drunk and said horrible things that he didn’t remember saying when he was sober.
As I walked through the kitchen doors, Rupert, my Siamese cat, appeared with a deep meow.
“Hello, Rupert!” I said, as he wound around my legs. George couldn’t believe it. Rupert had disappeared the day I left, and George hadn’t seen him since.
In my heart, I felt it was a sign that I should go back to George, but I was too afraid of rejection to say anything.
George helped me carry my things out to my car. He leaned in to stow some boxes, and when he backed out and stood up, he looked at me and said, “Stay here. With me. I love you.”
Immediately I began to cry, and when George put his arms around me I finally, after months of insecurity, felt safe. Oh, but he was thin! I could feel every bone in his back beneath my hands. That made me cry harder.
“Is that a yes or a no?” he asked.
“I want it to be a yes,” I cried into his shirt front. He smelled so good. “But what if it doesn’t work out?” I tried to control myself, but that familiar scent of sandalwood filled me with emotion I found hard to control.
“We just have to try, darling.” He was holding me so tightly I hoped he would never let me go. “I really need you, Pattie. You’re my girl. I’m not right without you.”
“What about Eric?” I sniffed. I hated to admit I was frightened of Eric and his unreasonable jealousy.
“What about Old Clapper?” I looked up and saw a scowl flash across his face, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
“How will I tell him?” Still looking up at him, and to my relief, George smiled.
“We will tell him together.”
“George, darling.” I had to say it. I took a deep breath for courage. “Things were terrible when I left. I can’t live like that.” We were both holding on to each other. “It has to be better.”
“It will be.” He kissed my forehead. “I promise.” His hands slid down and held mine. “Come inside. We could both use a cuppa. We can work this out.”
George led me back into the kitchen. It felt so good to be home. This room, more than any other in Friar Park, was mine. I sat down at the table while George busied himself making tea. I ran my hands over the smooth wood of the tabletop. The counters were cluttered as usual with this and that, but nothing had changed in the few months I had been gone.
“Oh, darling. I’ve missed you so much,” I said as Rupert jumped into my lap. I hugged him. His purr was loud and happy.
George set our mugs on the table and sat down across from me. “I hoped you were talking to me.”
I laughed. “I missed you too. I really, really did.” God, I was happy. I couldn’t remember feeling this happy in so long.
Then I heard it—the screech of tires on the drive. I had been gone too long and Eric had come looking. George reached over and covered my hand with his. “Don’t be scared. I’m here.”
We heard the car door slam, and in seconds Eric flew into the kitchen. “What’s going on here?”
“Hey, man,” said George. “Sit down. I’ll get you a cup.”
Eric ignored George. “What’s taking you so long?” he snarled at me. “Are your things in the car?”
I couldn’t speak. I was shaking. Rupert hissed at Eric, jumped from my lap, and ran away.
“Eric, don’t talk to Pattie like that.” George pulled out a chair. “Sit down or leave.”
Eric sat. “I’m not leaving without her,” he huffed, crossing his arms. I could tell he wanted to scream at me, but I knew he would control himself around George.
George placed a mug of tea in front of Eric and sat down. “Listen, since both of you are here I might as well say what I have to say.” George drank some tea before he began to speak. “I was fucking fuming that night in London when I found you two together. I tried to act like I didn’t really care, and I treated Pattie like shit for four years because I couldn’t admit I was jealous.”
I started to cry. I wasn’t making any noise, but I could feel the tears on my cheeks. Eric looked at the floor. He couldn’t face George. All his guilt had been directed at me as anger, because he had never gotten over the shame of taking me from George.
“I’ve cheated on Pattie. I’ve been an arse. I’m no better than either of you. I know that.” George took a deep breath. “But Pattie is still my wife. I still love her. I want her to come home.” Then he reached over and took my hand. “If she wants to.”
Then Eric got up and left without a word. His car roared towards the gates of Friar Park. I hoped he wouldn’t kill himself driving back to Hurtwood.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” I whispered as I watched the tail end of Eric’s car disappear around the curve of the drive.
“He won’t stay mad forever,” said George, staring out the window. I think we were both in shock but also relieved Eric was gone.
“Oh, he’ll forgive you,” I mused. “But he might not forgive me.” I looked at George. “I don’t care, though. He didn’t really love me.”
George turned to me and took my hand again. “I do. I love you. Nothing seems right without you.”
I took a deep breath. I had never felt comfortable telling George how I felt about his behavior when it hurt me. I realized this was probably my only chance to let him know. He was being open and vulnerable. I had to be brave.
“Darling,” how good it felt to call him that. “I love you, too. Oh, so much.” I squeezed his hand, then brought it to my cheek. “You need to know that I’d rather be alone than live with someone who ignores me and won’t answer when I ask questions or need to discuss things. I couldn’t bear those times when you acted like I didn’t even exist.” His eyes never left my face. George was skinnier than ever and his cheeks were hollow. “If you cheat on me, I don’t want to know about it. I don’t want to cheat on you. All that is over for me. It’s too painful.” I kissed his hand. “I want you to eat the food I cook. If you want curry, I’ll make you curry. It sounds trivial, but it’s important to me. If Kumar loves to cook, he can cook sometimes.”
“Is that all?” George asked.
“No. There’s more. If you go on tour, I want to go. And not to keep my eye on you. Being on tour with Eric was exciting. I’m sure it would be even more fun with you.” I smiled at him.
George laughed. “Yes, you can come on tour. I guess you’ve heard that I am going on tour with Ravi. Chris O’Dell will be with us, so that will be fun.” He stared at me intensely. “I’m glad you want to come along.”
“I’m sure you’ve got your complaints. I can take it. Go ahead.” I was scared to hear what he had to say, but I knew I hadn’t been perfect.
“I hated all the times you would leave and go to Greece or the Bahamas or Italy without me. I needed you with me, even if I was too busy.” Then he couldn’t look at me and his eyes shifted towards the window. “I don’t know if I can change. But maybe if we can accept each other as we are, things will work out. I want them to work out.” His eyes returned to mine. “I’ll do my best to make you happy.”
It didn’t escape my notice that he didn’t promise most of what I wanted, but it was a start. Being at home with George was such a relief. Not going back to Eric was worth everything George could try to do.
⸻
Pattie left the kitchen to go outside. George watched her go to her car, the same Mercedes he’d bought her in 1968. God, he was a jerk. He knew it too. He’d talked to Carl Radle one day, and when Carl had told him how Eric treated Pattie, George had been filled with remorse. He knew he had to get Pattie out of that situation. It was one thing if Eric treated her right, but Carl said he’d seen Eric push Pattie and pull her hair. He had waited too long, but he had wanted to see her on her terms. Her hair was darker. She must have dyed it. She always did when she was miserable.
He did love Pattie. How could anyone not love her? Yet he didn’t know if he was in love with her. He wanted to fuck whoever he pleased, but he did not want Pattie to do the same. He was a hypocrite and he knew it. He was jealous and tried to deny it, but the green-eyed monster had turned him into a bastard who had treated Pattie like shit and sent her off to Eric like it was all good fun.
As he watched her, he saw his brother Peter walk up and give Pattie a hug. His whole family loved Pattie. Though they never tried to tell him what to do, he knew they’d been disappointed she’d left him—more so in him for letting her go. They certainly seemed to have a lot to say. He wondered what they were talking about. As he watched them, George realized he was glad she had come back. She always stood up for him. And he loved to go over ideas with her. He missed telling her what he was planning or hearing what she thought about something he wanted to do.
⸻
I needed some air. I used the excuse that I needed something from the car and walked outside. George’s brother Peter came around the house pushing a wheelbarrow. “Pattie!” He had a huge smile for me, and I was glad to see him. We hugged for a long time.
“Peter, I’ve missed you.” After he hugged me I told him, “I’m coming home, Peter.”
“That’s good news. I didn’t like it that you left.” Peter gave me a Harrison look. “It’s not my business, but I know he missed you. He’s always been tight-lipped about his feelings.” Peter put his hands on my shoulders. “He’s always wanted things his way, and Mum and Dad and us kids—we all spoiled him. We couldn’t help it. But he’s a good man, Pattie. None better.” He picked up his wheelbarrow. “Glad you’re back.”
I got a box of my things and carried it back to the house.
“Is it okay if I take these things upstairs?” I asked George, who was puttering around the kitchen.
“This is your home. You may do whatever you wish.” He was rinsing mugs in the sink.
I made my way up the hall and looked into our bedroom. Everything was exactly the same. But I wasn’t sure I should presume to share a bed with George so soon. I decided I’d stay in my dressing room. It had a bed, and I knew I would be comfortable in there with the familiar things I had left behind.
I looked through my jewelry box, happy to see some of my favorite pieces, and around the room trinkets I had collected through the years. Everything was in order and had obviously been dusted and aired out. There was an acoustic guitar against the wall by the bed. It was funny to think someone had been in here.
I sat at my dressing table and looked at myself in the mirror. Could things work with George? Perhaps I had been too needy—or, like Eric called me, the old ball and chain. Or harpy. I really hated that. I was determined not to nag George. If Eric had taught me one thing, it was that all men, especially free-spirited musicians, hated being tied down. If I wanted George, I’d have to accept that about him. I wasn’t sure that I could.
I ran my hands over the lovely sterling silver vanity set George had given me soon after we’d moved into Friar Park after living in the Middle Lodge. It wasn’t tarnished. Everything had been kept clean as if awaiting my return. I lifted my arms to take my top knot down and brushed my hair. I started to put it back up when George walked in,
“Leave it down,” he said and I let my hair fall down my back. I turned to face him. He lifted up a bottle of champagne in one hand and held up a reefer in the other. “Which would you rather?”
“Definitely the champagne,” I needed to relax and was afraid the pot might make me paranoid. Something told me we would end up making love, and maybe champagne would be the better high.
——————-
George left to get the champagne glasses he’d left in their bedroom. He’d been surprised when he realized she’d gone to her dressing room and not their room. When he found her, she had left the door ajar, and he watched her brush her hair. His desire for her came rushing back. When she turned to look at him, her eyes shining at him like two blue pools, that love he’d so carelessly discarded once again filled his heart. The last four years had been torture for both of them, when either of them could have fixed things by saying “I love only you.” He hurried back to Pattie. When he’d awoken that morning, never had he suspected life would be sorted out in a way he hadn’t dreamt possible.
—————
I took off my jumper then sat on the bed. Then hopped up when George came back with the glasses. He popped the cork and poured us each a glass. “To us,” he said and we clinked our glasses together.
“To us,” I chorused.
I smiled over the rim of my glass and took a sip. The champagne was cold and made me shiver a little as it went down. I couldn’t believe I was home. I was scared I might wake up in a hotel room somewhere with Eric snoring beside me and realize this had all been a dream.
But I hadn’t.
I was in my dressing room and there was George.
George sat beside me on the bed, close enough that our knees touched. He looked so handsome yet fragile. It worried me that he was thinner than ever.
He glanced up and caught me staring.
“What?” he asked.
I laughed softly. “I’m just looking at you.”
“Still good looking, am I?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “A bit.”
He laughed then, I hadn’t heard him laugh in so long. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it.
I put my hand on his cheek. “I’ve missed that.”
He covered my hand with his and turned his face into my palm. “I’ve missed everything about you, darling.”
For a moment neither of us spoke.
George took a deep breath. “I used to come in here sometimes.”
“In my dressing room?”
He nodded. “Sit where you’re sitting. Wishing you were here.” He shrugged. “Wondering where you were and if you were happy.”
I could feel the tears welling up
“Oh, George…”
He looked down into his glass. “I hated you were with Eric.”
I shut my eyes. There it was. The words I had waited four years to hear.
I set my champagne down and turned toward him, holding my hands tightly in my lap. “I never stopped loving you.”
George’s eyes met mine.
“Not once,” I told him. “Even when I hated you. Even when I thought you didn’t care. Even when I was with Eric, I always loved you .”
He bit his lip then pulled me into a hug. I went willingly, leaning against his chest, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and cigarettes. George.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into my hair. “I’m so sorry, Pattie.”
I hid my face against him. “I’m sorry, too.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He leaned back to look at me. His dark eyes were intense. “I was cruel. I pushed you away because I thought if I acted like I didn’t care, then I wouldn’t care.” He swallowed hard. “But I did care the whole the time.”
“We’re a pair of idiots.” I said.
He laughed and nodded. “God what a waste of time”
I reached for my glass and took another sip, trying to steady my nerves.
“What happens now?” I asked.
George leaned back on one hand and looked at me.
“Now,” he said very seriously, “you stay.”
The words made my stomach flutter.
“You stay here. We work it out. We fight if we have to, but we don’t run off with someone else.” He frowned. “Especially not Eric Clapton.”
I laughed.
“And when I go on tour with Ravi, you come.”
“I already said I would.”
“And when I’m being an arse—
You tell me,” he said. “You don’t leave. You tell me.”
“And you answer me.” I said seriously.
He nodded.
“And you don’t ignore me.”
He nodded again.
“And…” I hesitated.
He brushed my hair back from my face. “Go on.”
I looked at him. Really looked at him.
“I need to know you want me.”
He set his glass down and took both my hands.
“Pattie,” he said earnestly, “I’ve always wanted you.”
I felt tears sting my eyes again.
“This big crazy house… it’s just nothing without you.” George took me in his arms. “I’m nothing without you.”
I started crying then, really crying, and he laughed and kissed me.
“Don’t cry,” he said.
“I can’t help it.”
“You’re so emotional today.”
“I am not!”
“You are.”
I pushed him away and he laughed, and pulled me back into his arms.
Then he grew solemn again and rested his forehead against mine.
“We’ll make it work,” he promised.
I nodded.
“We’ll try.”
I nodded again.
And in that moment, a little drunk, I believed it could happen. We would make it work.
I believed it might actually be true.
And as he kissed me, I thought perhaps it was like the song said, love is all you need.
————-
As he kissed Pattie, everything he said, he hoped was true. When he said it, he’d meant it. He wanted to be married. He did love her and he had missed her terribly. But could he really make her happy? Would she ever be happy with him? He wasn’t sure he could be any way but the way he was.
Pattie looked exhausted. What a day! He wondered about Eric maybe they wouldn’t see him for a while.
“Why don’t you lie down and rest a bit?” He reached and grabbed his guitar. “I learned a new Dylan song.” He strummed a minute tuning the strings. “It’s from his album he did with the Band earlier this year.”
“Oh, I like that album. Carl Radle made us listen to it over and over on the tour bus.” Pattie laid back on the bed and closed her eyes.
He looked at her. She was still the prettiest girl, well she was definitely a woman, but she’d always be his girl.
George began to play his favorite song from the Dylan album. It was only his favorite because it had reminded him of Pattie. He noticed she couldn’t stop smiling even though her eyes were closed.
As he played the opening notes, Pattie didn’t open her eyes, but she said, “That’s my favorite song. I thought about you every time I heard it.” Then she stopped talking but she reached out and put her hand on George’s leg. His heart skipped a beat. He’d have to remember to thank Carl one day. He began to sing:
do you have the sex tape fics yet I’M SO SORRY I CANT HELP MESELF luv you Queen
I’m not sure this is what you wanted… but it is what happened.
NSFW
Pattie leaned back on her elbows and arched her back. George leaned over her and licked her nipples, then blew on them. Like magic, they tightened into perky points. She couldn’t help but giggle.
“Don’t laugh.” George was so serious. “Pout.”
Pattie gave him her best sultry look and held it until she heard the click from his camera. Then she collapsed into the pillows behind her.
“These are just for us. You promised.” She had a horror of anyone seeing them, but George loved to take naked pictures of her.
“God, Pattie.” George wound the film. “Anyway, that’s the last one for today. Unless I go get another roll of film.” He put the camera down on the dresser and crawled into bed with his wife. “But, I’d rather do this.” And he proceeded to kiss her neck and her ears and her forehead until he found her mouth.
He was besotted with and consumed by his wife. His gorgeous wife. She was funny and sexy and very agreeable. She almost never told him no. He had never felt such desire, nor had he ever been so head over heels in love. It was a very potent combination. Before he’d met her, music and the Beatles were his life. And the girls. He did enjoy all the sex that came with being a Beatle. But now all he wanted to do was stay home and fuck Pattie. Or take pictures of Pattie. Or devour her. He couldn’t get enough of her.
He kissed her breasts and worked his way down her belly and then he felt her knees open and her hands were in his hair and he found her with his mouth. He could do this all day. He’d never tasted any girl who tasted as good as Pattie. Her moans and groans turned him on and he gave her his best. When she started pulling his hair he knew she was about to cum and he sucked and licked her into an explosive orgasm.
She whimpered in that darling way of hers. “Oh my God. George! That was the best ever.” She pulled him up for a kiss and while they kissed she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close. “Fuck me. Please. “
George’s hand found his cock and he guided himself inside her. “Oh, babe!” She was tight and wet and ready.
His hips pounded into her rhythmically and she matched him beat for beat.
Her arms were around his neck and she was gasping with arousal and then she whimpered his name over and over. And all he could think of was he wanted a movie of this. Of them fucking. Of her coming. Of his cock driving into her. Really. But he was afraid she’d say no.
All week at work, because that’s how he thought of the Beatles now. Work. All week he’d go off into a daydream about making sexy home movies of them making love. Paul yelled at him more than once. John just laughed. John knew George had it bad for Pattie. And while George had no secrets from John, he had promised Pattie. God he wanted to tell John. Later Ringo was talking about a new champagne Maureen liked and when Ringo sent Mal to go get a case, George told Mal to get him one. Pattie loved champagne. He would get her drunk!
Thankfully it was Friday. Margaret, the housekeeper, would be gone for the weekend. George had finally installed the lock on the gate to the driveway. For once they wouldn’t be disturbed by fans.
“Darling, I’m home,” he called out as he struggled to open the back door while carrying the case of champagne.
“George! Let me help you!” Pattie held the door and George finally in the kitchen, set the case of bubbly on the counter.
“Champagne! What’s the occasion?” Pattie asked as she peeked inside the box.
George grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him. “You’re the occasion. I’m free all weekend.”
“Goody ! Let me get one of these bottles cold. Maureen says to wrap the bottle in a wet dish towel and pop it in the freezer.” Pattie did just that. Then she turned to George and said, “I’ll bet it will be cold by the time I finish giving you a blow job.” She unbuckled his belt. “Did you lock the gate?” He nodded yes, and did not protest as she unzipped his trousers and freed his hardening cock.
She held his throbber and slid her hand up and down its length. “I love your cock, George.” She led him over to the kitchen table so she could sit down. Then she looked up at him, her blue eyes all innocence. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”
He couldn’t tear his eyes away as she took him into her mouth. He was mesmerized by her lips and he could feel her tongue flicking the head as she bobbed her head and he watched his dick glide in and out of her mouth. She played with his balls. Holding them gently then tightening her grip just a little. She held his ass helping him pump his way to exploding in her mouth. And when he came, she swallowed it all, and smiled up at him. Then she licked all the cum off the head of his cock. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Welcome home, darling.” She pulled up his trousers and zipped them up. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m hungry for you.” He pulled her into his arms. “I wonder if that champagne is cold yet,”
Pattie opened the freezer. “Yes! It’s perfect.” And she got two glasses while George popped the cork.
“Let’s go to bed,” George suggested, and Pattie scampered down the hall, George right behind her.
While George poured the champagne into their glasses, Pattie took off her tee shirt and jeans then stepped out of her silk knickers.
“Cheers!” They said together as they clinked their glasses together. They both took a sip.
“This is delicious, darling. I’m glad you thought of it.” Then to George’s disbelief Pattie drained her glass. “I’ve been dying to get drunk.” George refilled her glass then drained his.
“Drink up then! Let’s get drunk!” He laughed. He poured them both some more and watched Pattie get into bed. “Let me go get the camera.” He didn’t look at her. He rushed to his music room and got the Kodak Instamatic M8, a tripod, and a light. When he returned to the bedroom Pattie was sitting up in bed, sipping her champagne.
“George, that’s a movie camera.” She locked eyes with him and reached in her nightstand without taking her eyes off of him. She held up a pill bottle. “I’ll make a movie with you, but you can’t get mad at me if I take a pill.” She saw him frown. “I’ll be more likely to enjoy it all.” She drank more champagne and rattle the bottle in her hand.
George didn’t say anything. God. He hated it when she took those pills and drank. Not that she acted anyway but fun. He was just scared she’d o.d. But, fuck. “Only one pill and not too much champagne.”
“Then only one movie.” He nodded in agreement and she opened the bottle, shook out a blue and red capsule and casually downed it with a swallow of her drink. She returned the bottle to the drawer and turned to George. “So, what did you have in mind, darling?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I could just turn the camera on and see what happens.”
“That would be more natural,” Pattie said thoughtfully. Then she looked at George. “You swear to God you’ll never show this to anyone. And that includes John. Especially John.”
“I swear.” He meant it.
Pattie held out her arms. “Come along, darling. Come make love to me.”
George checked to make sure the camera was on and that it was focused on the bed. Then while Pattie posed seductively, George took off his clothes and got in bed next to Pattie and laid down next to her.
“Now what do we do?” Pattie cupped his face with her hands.
“How are you feeling?” George wanted to know.
“I feel like I’d like you to kiss me.” She looked at him. “All over. Slowly.”
Like the good lover he was, George did as directed. He kissed Pattie all over. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes and back up again, stopping to pay particular attention to all those places that brought her the most enjoyment. He could tell she was into it. She might be acting shy about him taking pictures or wanting to film them getting it on, but Pattie loved the camera and the camera loved her.
Then Korky jumped on the bed and the spell was broken. They were both laughing and George poured more champagne and though Pattie had taken a pill, she wasn’t out of it at all. “Aren’t you hungry, darling?”
George realized he was in fact famished. Pattie put on a flowing silk robe and George put his jeans back on. George took the empty champagne bottle and Pattie collected their glasses and they went to kitchen.
The phone rang and Pattie could tell George was talking to John. “John’s coming over. I’ll go unlock the gate.” Pattie nodded and set out another plate and got another champagne glass. Then she went and put her jeans and tee shirt on.
“John! Come eat some dinner or at least have a glass of champagne,” Pattie offered as John walked into the house with George.
He accepted and the three of them sat and enjoyed the vegetable soup and the French champagne. Then John needed to use the loo and when he came back he gave them the biggest smile. “What have you two love birds been up to?”
Pattie covered her face with her hands. George snickered. John laughed.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Pattie was mortified. “ I’ll leave you two to what ever it is you need to do. I think I’ll have a lie-down.”’ She filled her glass and went to their bedroom. Right in the doorway was the movie camera on the tripod, just where John couldn’t have helped but see it.
Pattie left the door ajar. Well she couldn’t really close it. She listened to George and John and then they played some music their guitars a gentle sound that lulled her to sleep. The pill she’d taken earlier deeply relaxed her.
She vaguely remember George coming to bed and helping her get undressed. Soon she was locked in George’s warm embrace and they both slept till the sun was high in the sky and the sun was streaming through the windows.
Sipping her morning tea, Pattie looked over her cup at George. “Did John say anything about …” her voice trailed off.
“You know John. He couldn’t help himself. But don’t worry Pattie. He likes you. He won’t embarrass you. At least not in front of anyone.” George smiled that crooked smile that always melted her heart. She could never stay mad at him.
“Well as long as it’s just John.” George pulled her onto his lap as she walked by to put her cup in the sink. “What will we do today?”
She leaned back against his chest. “It feels so strange to have a day with just the two of us.” She sighed as he wrapped his arms around her. “Last night was fun. Maybe we should try during the day so we don’t have to use that light.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to do.” He tightened his hold on her. Sometimes he loved her so much he didn’t know what to do with his feelings.
“I am a professional model, you know.” She laughed and got up. “Anyway, I love that champagne and when’s the last time we were alone and drank during the day?” She put their cups in the sink. Just then the phone rang. Pattie could hear George say, “I’ll be there in a minute.”
”What’s up?”
“Ringo. He needs my help. I’ll be back as fast as I can.”
Pattie kissed him good bye. “Don’t forget me!”
As she watched him through the window, she had a marvelous idea. It was a gorgeous day. Their garden was really very private. She decided to set up a love nest outdoors. If George wanted to make sexy movies, there had to be a better setting than their bedroom.
Pattie got a beautiful length of cloth she had gotten in India, finally she had a purpose for it. Then she got some cushions from their living-room. She got the champagne glasses and set them out on a tray. It did look nice and cozy under the willow tree. She knew she could set up the camera but George was so particular she left that for him. Hopefully this would be fun, but mostly she wanted to get this idea of his over with. If she acted enthusiastic and interested she knew he’d be happy and pleased and once his desire was satisfied he’d be on to something else. In the mean time she took a shower. As she was drying off, she heard George pull up the driveway. She quickly got one of her pills and swallowed it. No reason to have that discussion again.
She met him at the door dressed only in her silk dressing gown. “Did you lock the gate?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now go get your camera and meet me in the garden, I have a surprise for you.” As he walked away down the hall, Pattie got the bottle of champagne and the tray and carried it to the willow tree in the garden. She loosened the belt of her dressing gown and then arranged herself amongst the pillows, pulling the shimmering silk away from her shoulders, exposing just enough to be alluring.
She laughed when she saw George’s face. “ Surprise, darling!” She held up an empty glass. “Pop the cork for me, please.” Then she drank while George set up his camera and tripod. “I thought the light would be better out here.”
“Great idea, luv.” It only took him minutes to get the camera in position. Then he sat next to Pattie and she poured him a glass of bubbly.
“Cheers!” They both laughed.
Pattie lifted George’s tee shirt and ran her hands across his bare skin. “Your wish is my command, darling.” George sucked his breath in and that gave Pattie just enough room to put her hand down the front of his jeans. “Everything ok at Ringo’s?”
“I don’t want to talk about Ringo,” George growled.
“Then let me help you out of these clothes.” George pulled his tee shirt off and lifted his hips as Pattie peeled his jeans off. “I think it would look very sexy if you leaned against the tree.”
George got up and leaned against the tree. Pattie could see the little light that signaled the camera was filming. She knelt before her husband and let her robe fall open just a bit more. “I’m going to give you the best head you’ve ever dreamed of.”
And as her hand wrapped around George’s cock and she leaned forward to take him in her mouth, Korky jumped from the tree and knocked the camera and tripod over.
“Korky! You naughty cat!” Exclaimed Pattie. “George! Your new camera!”
“It’s alright. You were smart to bring all these cushions out,” he assured her.
“Do you want to start over?” Pattie asked.
“I’m sort of not in the mood anymore. Let’s just lie here and look at the clouds.”
Pattie and George cuddled together and drank their champagne. “I think Korky is trying to tell us he does not approve.” Pattie spoke softly.
George caught her waist and brought her closer. “After John figured out what we were up to, I kind of decided maybe we shouldn’t. But thanks for being such a good sport.” He kissed her. “And thanks for this.” He waved his hand. “We should do this more often. We have such a lovely garden and I don’t spend as much time as I would like out here.” He turned and looked at her. “Or with you. I thought being married would mean we’d be together all the time.”
“Darling, you’re a very busy man!” She kissed him. Her tongue tasted champagne and cigarettes. She ran her tongue over his teeth until she found that one sharp fang. She didn’t resist when he rolled on top of her.
“I really love you, Pattie.” He looked down at her. He was so serious and so sincere. She got lost looking into his eyes.
“I really love you, George.”
She pulled him down for another kiss. She knew she was the luckiest girl in all of England.
They held each other and George drank his champagne and held Pattie as she fell asleep. He knew she’d taken a pill, but he couldn’t be angry. All she did was try to make him happy. She never discouraged him and always went along with his ideas, even this stupid one. Jesus. The cat was smarter than he was.
A few weeks later, over a late dinner, George said, “I got those two movies developed.” Pattie looked horrified. “Do you want to watch them?”
Horrified or not, Pattie did want to see them. Just then a whistle from the garden let them know John had just shown up, which was not unusual.
“George…..” Pattie started but then threw up her hands in defeat. John had seen everything anyway so what did it matter.
“Johnny you’re just in time.” Pattie watched his face. “But somehow I think you already know.”
Pattie got a glass of wine, George and John got bottles of beer and they went to George’s music room where the projector and screen were already set up.
The first film was thankfully out of focus and Pattie thought rather arty. George was mostly in the way so her body was almost always hidden. They all burst into laughter when Korky jumped on the bed and disrupted George and Pattie. George’s face close to the lens was the final shot. The second movie was a bit more in focus. Pattie was ever so glad she’d kept her robe on. John chortled when George leaned against the tree. “Is that the best you’ve got, Hazza?” George hit him with a pillow and Pattie was very grateful when Korky made his dive from the tree.
The three of them laughed for ages. Pattie went and got more wine and two more beers. “No!” She shouted as she returned to the music room. “We are not watching them again!”
“Please, Mrs Harrison,” John pleaded, kneeling on the floor holding his hands together in silent appeal. “It’s the only pleasure this wretched boy has been offered.”
Pattie handed John his beer. “You’ve seen enough!”
“If I do recall correctly, Madame, there was this time in Tahiti or was it Ireland….” Even Pattie had to laugh at John.
“Once more. If you insist”
George let the film roll. He was glad they were blurry and sent out thanks to Korky. More than glad they were short and nothing really too embarrassing. He looked at Pattie. She was beautiful. She was kind. Another kind of girl would have been upset that John was there, but Pattie had always understood John and never took offense.
It had turned out to be ok. It felt good to have a good laugh. Especially with John because even though it wasn’t talked about, John was not very happy at home.
Later in bed, Pattie made him promise to burn those little movies. “The pictures, I don’t mind. They aren’t explicit or too much. But the movies! Why George if it hadn’t been for Korky…”
“I know. Sorry. But thanks for not minding about John.” George was getting comfortable. As he did every night, he had to hold Pattie close. One arm around her waist, one leg over hers. He couldn’t sleep unless she was in his arms.
Though he promised to destroy those movies, 34 years later they would show up in a box of odds and ends George gave to Pattie the last time he saw her. For a moment they were young again and the laughter came just as easily.
Later, Pattie would burn them by herself, tears wetting her cheeks as her heart broke over missing George and John. Looking up into the night sky, she sensed them among the stars.
“I love you, George! I love you, John!” She called out into the dark. She knew they heard her.
This is a wonderful George and Pattie fic. Much smut at first, as you would expect from the queen of G&P smut, but it develops into a beautifully sensitive and poignant picture of their real feelings for each other. A lovely read.
My worst birthday turned into one of my best birthdays. I had moved out of Hurtwood Edge. I left Eric for good and rented a flat in London. My birthday seemed destined to be lonely and I felt very sorry for myself. My friends all seemed to be busy. I’d was seeing a therapist trying to get my life back on track. I was trying not to drink and the safest thing seemed to be to stay at home and not drink or party. I was depressed. Not long before my birthday I had watched Aspel and Company and was thrilled to see George and Ringo as his guests. George! He was funny and adorable and it was both wonderful and painful to watch him on the telly. Ringo seemed as though he’d had a few too many, but he was his usual charming and hilarious self. I still loved them both. Yet soon the show was over and I was back to life as usual. But I could not stop thinking about George. He had a new album he’d released in November and I had played it on repeat more times than I cared to admit.
I could not let go of my feelings for George, though we’d been apart for 14 years. So that March 17th, I sat alone in my flat, dressed only in my nightgown, listening to my ex-husband’s first new album in 5 years. I loved his voice. I wished for a glass of wine but made do with half of a reefer I found in a drawer. I had just taken a really deep hit, when there was a knock at my door. Here I was alone in London and without a second thought, opened my door and there he was. George. My birthday wish that I had not realized I made, had suddenly come true. Without a word, we were in each other’s arms, kissing as if it were the end of the world. Dramatically, George swept all my papers off my desk and we both laughed as lifted me up and sat me on the desk. He knelt before me and lifted my nightgown and looking up at me with those dark intense eyes, put his mouth in the most intimate place. I gasped as I ran my hands through his still dark thick hair. My heart pounded in my chest and then he was standing before me, kissing me deeply as I tasted myself on his lips. He picked me up in his arms and carried me to my bedroom. Holding me, he pulled the coverlet back and placed me in the bed. I watched as he kicked off his shoes, pulled both the shirts he was wearing over his head and stepped out of his jeans. I took off my nightgown and threw it on the floor. He got in bed and laid on top of me. “Go slow at first,” I told him. “It’s been far too long.”
And he was. Such soft gentle kisses as he reached between us and guided himself inside me. Slowly and sensually his hips started that familiar rhythmic motion and my body responded in kind. “Is this good?” He whispered and all I could do was nod.
His skin against mine was like fire, and our love making quickly became intense. He moved behind me, spooning me as he entered me from behind his hands caressing my most sensitive places as we moaned, lost in a deep connection we had not forgotten.
Then I turned in his arms and as we faced each other, we looked in each other’s eyes as our love making became more intense and he pulled me close as we both reached our release.
“Happy birthday, darling.” He kissed my cheek.
“Oh, George.” I hugged him tight. “How did you know I was wishing for you?”
“I know how you get on your birthday. I was drawn to you and there was nothing I could do but give in.” He smoothed my hair back from my face. “I love you, Pattie. I always will.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I was so happy. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Was that my new album I hear?”
“Of course! It’s wonderful!” I looked at him. “Are you hungry?”
And naturally he was. I put my nightgown back on. He got into his jeans and tee shirt, and we went to the kitchen. He sat at the counter and I made him a cheese sandwich. We both had tea. He told me he was off to the states to promote his album.
We talked all night. Then when he had to leave he held each other and kissed. Those sweet kisses lovers share after a marvelous night together. How I wanted him to stay, but life had changed and he had to go.
“I’ll see you when I get back,” he promised. I knew he’d keep his word. Things had changed for the better. I knew it wouldn’t be like before, but something new was in store for us, but I could wait. And then it happened. For when he returned to England, a new chapter to our story began.
ok this is kind of a sad fic but I think it be really cute and you’re a great writer !!!
so it’s like after George kicks Charlotte Martin out, Pattie came back, they’re trying to heal and you know get back to normal, but they both hate themselves on the inside. Pattie thinks George cheated because she did sometjing wrong, George hates himself for having the affair…and like pattie tries her best to have dinner ready every day when George comes home from the get back sessions at apple, but some days she is so emotionally drained
Basically, pattie’s crying in the shower just like sitting on the tub /shower floor just full on sobbing, she doesn’t realise George comes home earlier a bit that night, and he finds her there and just gets in with her and comforts her
sorry this is long and sad and random but yeah 🥹
-🪷
thanks for good inspiration 💜
Pattie spooned the lentil mixture into the loaf pan, then mushed it down with the back of the spoon. She covered it with George’s favorite savory sauce and popped it in the oven. She loved to cook, but making dinner everyday was hard. She didn’t see how Maureen cooked night after night for Ringo.
Pattie had decided to take Mo’s advice and try to be a more traditional wife for George. She wasn’t too sure that’s what George really wanted, but he did seem grateful to have a nice dinner when he came home and he did seem to like her cooking. Having dinner every night was all because George had cheated on her, in their home, with that back stabber, Charlotte Martin.
Pattie, being Pattie, was certain George’s cheating had been all her fault. She liked to party when George wanted to stay home. George hated that she loved taking downers. He didn’t mind pot or drinking or even taking acid, but for some reason he drew the line at pills. But Pattie loved the dreamy oblivion the pills made her feel. She loved lying in bed while George made endless love to her while she was in a pill daze. The pills made it hard to get off, but the feeling of George’s hands and mouth and fingers and tongue was exquisite.
George was never happy unless he could make her climax. Maybe though that is what made George so annoyed. He loved making her get off. And ever since Charlotte, she’d been taking way too many pills and washing them down with wine or scotch. More than once the pills and alcohol had given her a terrible hangover, and though George had nursed her through, he had not even tried to hide his irritation.
The worst thing yet had happened today. Maureen had stopped by to see if she was sick because the Beatles had given a roof top concert and Maureen couldn’t believe Pattie wasn’t there. “Pattie, where were you? Linda and Yoko were there.” Maureen took a long drag off her ciggie and blew it up towards the ceiling. “You would have loved it. They sounded just fabulous. Why even the police came and tried to shut it down.” Maureen laughed. “George just turned the amps up higher! It was great.”
Pattie laughed along with Maureen but she felt sick inside. Just that morning, she and George had exchange cross words. Even so, she felt humiliated that he would leave her out of such an important occasion. The Beatles didn’t play live anymore. He had to know that she would have loved to be there.
Pattie offered Maureen a drink but was relieved when Mo said she had to go. Pattie poured her own stiff drink and turned off the oven, tossed the salad and to her surprise burst into tears.
God she hated George. No she loved George. She hated him! Maybe she wasn’t perfect but she had never cheated on him. She couldn’t imagine doing such a thing.
She was freezing. Maybe a hot shower would calm her down. George wouldn’t be home for hours. Afterwards, she could relax and enjoy her wine. Hopefully, she’d feel better by the time she had to face George. Though she was furious! How could he be so cruel?
As she stood under the hot water, she washed her hair and started to feel better. Suddenly all the bad feelings returned, and she began to shake. So she sat down on the tile and let the shower rain down on her as she sobbed. Her heart was broken. She didn’t think she’d ever recover from George’s betrayal.
George walked into the kitchen and took off his black Mongolian lamb’s fur coat. Dinner smelled good. Ever since Pattie had come home from Belinda’s, she’d been cooking him dinner every night. When really it should be him cooking for her. Or at least being nicer. He saw the bottle of wine open on the counter and went looking for his wife. He heard the water running before he heard Pattie crying. A fear he’d never experienced welled up
In his chest and he opened the bathroom door not knowing what to expect. Surely not Pattie crying on the floor of the shower. He grabbed a towel and turned the knobs to stop the water. “Pattie. Darling, are you all right?” How stupid he sounded. Of course she wasn’t all right! She was on the verge of hysteria and she was shaking. George wrapped the towel around Pattie and fully dressed, he didn’t even kick off his new Chucks, he sat behind Pattie on the wet tile and wrapped his arms around her. “Darling, it’s going to be ok.” He hugged her as tightly as be could. He leaned his forehead on top of her wet head and freed one arm and grabbed another towel. He gently began to rub her hair hoping to dry it some. “I don’t blame you for being upset. I’ve been a complete arse.” He wrapped the towel around her head. “Let me help you up.”
To his relief, Pattie was calming down. He put his arm around her and she didn’t pull away, she allowed him to lead her to their bedroom and she stood still as he dried her off and then tucked her into bed. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” George hurried to the kitchen grabbed the bottle of wine and Pattie’s glass and hurried back to the bedroom. He poured her a glass, put it on her nightstand. Then he got out of his wet clothes and dried off with Patties towel before climbing into bed with her. He grabbed the wine bottle and chugged some down before pulling the covers over both of them and snuggling up to Pattie.
“Darling. Please talk to me.” Fuck. He didn’t deserve her. She was beautiful and loving and he had treated her like shit. He rubbed her neck and shoulders. “I’m sorry for everything.”
“I must be an awful wife. First Charlotte. Then Maureen came by this afternoon. Oh, George. Why? I would have loved to have been there.” One hand crept out from under the covers and found her wine glass. She took a few big gulps. “Anyway, I didn’t expect you home so soon.” Her voice trailed off and her sigh had a catch in it that told him she was still close to tears.
“Pattie. Darling. I. I. I am so sorry. I was nervous about today. I should have told you to come even if we did have a bad morning. I’m fucked up. It’s not you. I’m sick of the Beatles. But I swear, Darling, I love you. I love you very much. And I want things to be like they were before.” He meant what he said. He did love her. But god he didn’t want to be a Beatle anymore and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to be married. But that was fucked up, too. There wasn’t anyone else. He just wanted to be free. But that really wasn’t fair to Pattie.
“George if you don’t want to be with me anymore you’ve got to be honest and tell me. You owe me that.”
She looked at him with those big blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Her lips trembled and he felt so guilty.
“Pattie of course I want you. For better or for worse. You know that! You’re everything to me.” And as the words tumbled from his mouth, he knew they weren’t entirely true. But they weren’t exactly a lie either. George pulled Pattie close. When she turned in his arms and hugged him back, he realized he did love her. Desperately. He would be the husband she deserved. The husband his parents expected him to be. Even as they kissed, he wondered if he could be that man.
Later after soft kisses and quiet promises they both made, Pattie let him have his way. The first time since Charlotte and it felt like it always had. It was love between them. Pattie wasn’t just a fuck. She was the only one he ever actually made love to.
“I love you, Darling,” she told him.
“I love you, too,” he said as he kissed her temple. He did love her. He really did.
after breaking up with George were there any surprises from him?
Even though George and I broke up, we were still attracted to one another. Nothing really happened for a few years except glances across a crowded room and every once in a great while, stolen kisses and promises of everlasting love in dark corners or even an empty closet. Eric was very insecure and hated me even talking to George.
One day, when I had left Eric for a while and was staying in a friend’s flat in London, George surprised me by showing up unannounced late at night.
“George! Is everything alright? Why are you here?” I could only imagine something horrible had happened and he was coming to give me the bad news.
He said nothing. His eyes were dark and intense, yet his mouth could not hide that cocky little smile that meant only one thing. I didn’t protest when he took my hand and pulled me down the hall to the bedroom. He picked me up and tossed me on the bed. He knelt on the floor and his hands slid up my legs and pulled off my knickers. I laughed with the excitement of the moment and the absolute joy of being with him. He kissed my thighs and then he was going down on me. God, it felt wonderful. He was a fantastic lover and he had always liked giving lip service. My hands were in his hair. But just as quickly he climbed into the bed and was kissing me frantically.
“I’ve missed you so much. I couldn’t stay away when I found out you were alone.” His voice was soft and sexy. His breath hot as his lips caressed my neck.
I was in heaven. I was still madly in love with him and truly regretting my entanglement with Eric. I’m ashamed to say I gave no thought to his wife. He made love to me all night and we fell asleep in a tangled embrace, our arms and legs entwined.
The bright sun steaming through the windows woke me up and as I tried to slip out of bed, George tightened his hold on me. “Dont get up. Lie with me a while longer.” He snuggled close and I gave in without a word.
For if I had learned anything at all from my mistakes and rash decisions it was this: I would take George any time he wanted me. Right or wrong I loved him. I always would and if I could only be with him occasionally and at random unplanned moments, I would take that. This unexpected visit turned into a reoccurring happiness at different times for the rest of his life. I never knew when he would happen by, how he found me not only in London but in New York City or Los Angeles and once in the Bahamas, I never knew. But I always welcomed him happily. We lived separate lives with new loves, but we always had a place in our hearts for one another. That we always wanted each other couldn’t be helped. Our physical love was something we could not deny. It was stronger than any self restraint. The secretive nature of our relationship was irresistible and satisfying in a way being married had not been.
Photo credits as known: Terence Spencer, Dave Hogan, Gered Mankowitz.
“[George] had this wonderful smile which put you completely at ease. It was like he was looking through you and only at the best parts.” - Lenny Waronker, Entertainment Weekly (2001)
I remember that day more than anything. The winter sunlight pale and hesitant through the windows at Kinfauns, as if even the sun wasn’t sure how I was going to behave towards George.
Twenty-six. It sounded older than he was. George still had that quick sideways smile. But January had left a giant gulf between us. Charlotte’s name lingered unwelcome between us. I had been sharp, colder than I meant to be. Angry in a way I could not hide.
And yet it was his birthday and birthdays were special.
He was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his guitar, not really playing, just playing an riff absentmindedly. I watched him for a long moment before he noticed me. He looked up, wary at first, not that I could blame him. I was sure as he was expecting another argument.
“Morning,” he said softly.
I crossed the room and knelt in front of him. “Happy birthday, darling.”
He searched my face for danger. I cupped his cheek before he could turn away. His skin was warm. Familiar. Mine.
“I’ve been unfair,” I said. “I’ve been hurt. But I don’t want to spend your birthday being cross with you.”
His eyes flickered. Relief, guilt, hope all at once. “I don’t want to hurt you, Pattie,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry that I did.”
“I know.” Really I did. That was the complicated thing.
I leaned forward and kissed him. Slow and certain. The kind of kiss that says I’m still here. He inhaled sharply, his hand finding my waist. He’d been afraid to touch me for weeks.
“I forgive you,” I whispered against his mouth. “I won’t push you away anymore. I want my husband.”
The words felt scary and freeing all at once. Forgiveness isn’t easy; it was a decision I made before my heart fully caught up.
He set the guitar aside without looking at it. “Are you sure, darling?”
Instead of answering, I stood and held out my hand. I’d put on the soft silk dressing gown he liked. My hair was loose down my back. I suddenly felt shy, which made it more exciting than I had expected.
“Come to bed with me,” I said gently. “Let’s start your year properly.”
For a second he just looked at me, almost boyish again, as though I’d handed him the best present. Then he took my hand.
The house was quiet. No arguing. No slammed doors. Just the faint winter light and the quiet expectation of two people choosing each other again.
When we lay down, it wasn’t hurried or frantic. It was slow at first — fingertips reacquainting themselves, foreheads touching, breath mingling. I felt him relax beneath my hands, the tension finally dissolving.
He brushed my hair back and smiled that private smile he only gave me. “Best present I’ve had,” he murmured.
I laughed softly. “You haven’t opened the other one yet.”
“Oh?”
“This,” I said, pulling him closer, “isn’t just a birthday gift. It’s peace. And a promise.”
The past month didn’t disappear. It lingered still. But in that room, in that bed, we were George and Pattie again. Arms and legs tangled together, warm, choosing love once again l.
here’s a kind of smutty one for George’s birthday.
NSFW
He brushed his mouth over her nipples and kissed her breasts, before cupping both and pressing them close together so he could lick and suck both rosy tips at once. His knee pushed her legs apart and she held his cock before guiding him inside. She held him close, her legs around his waist. She rose to meet each thrust feeling him deep within. Their rhythm was steady, yet urgent, and he was not gentle. She pulled his long dark hair urging him on.
“Harder, George,” she moaned. “Please, darling.”
He did as she asked. When she was satisfied, only then did he let go.
“Happy birthday, darling.” She snaked her arms around his neck and held him tight.
He laughed and kissed her neck. “That was the best present by far!” Passionately they kissed. The night was just beginning.
did you and george ever broke up while you where still dating???
December 9 1964 Heathrow Airport. On their way to the Bahamas!
This story takes place in December, 1964 before Pattie and George go to the Bahamas on December 9th
It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him whispering sweet nothings into the phone. But damn it, it would be the last.
Pattie was furious with George.
She walked by him without a word and went to their bedroom. She found her stash of Valium and took one, then she laid down on the bed and smoked a cigarette. She ignored him when George came into the room and sat on the side of the bed.
“I’m sorry, Pattie. Truly.” Pattie looked out the window. She couldn’t look at him. She hated him. George rubbed her leg and she scooted over, out of reach. “Look, it won’t happen again. I swear.”
At that, she let out a harsh ugly bark of laughter. He was unbelievable. It had been a shock when she found out how easily he lied. How sincere he sounded when he wasn’t telling the truth.
“I was just talking to her. She lives in the states. There’s nothing going on between us.” George’s voice was pleading. Again he reached for her, and when he put his hand on her thigh she slapped it away.
Pattie rubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray resting on her stomach. “You know, if I did this to you, you’d be furious.” It was no secret and a source of teasing by the other Beatles when George couldn’t hide his jealousy. She patted the bed next to her until she found her pack, and she got another cigarette and lit it. “When you get back from the Bahamas, I won’t be here. I’m moving out.” She had no idea where she’d go. Maybe she could sleep on Jenny’s floor. Or she could bother Belinda again. She’d left before over this Joey Heatherton, and it seemed he hadn’t gotten the message.
George squeezed her leg, and she shook his hand off. Jesus. She hated him, but God she wanted him. She despised him.
“Don’t say that, Pattie. You know I love you. You’re the only one for me.” George sounded like he might cry, but she knew he was faking.
“I don’t want your loving anymore,” Pattie told him. Then she rolled on her side so she didn’t have to look at him.
“That really hurts me, Pattie.” She could hear him undress and she saw first his jacket, then his tie, and finally his dress shirt land on the chair, where usually he would carefully hang his jacket on the back. She could hear him unzip his boots, and she could tell they landed somewhere near the closet. Then he was in the bed with her, spooning into her back, his fingers rubbing her neck.
“Pattie, I swear I did not sleep with her. I promise.” He was telling the truth. Of course he didn’t add that Joey had given him a blow job. He’d rued that one night in New York City in September ever since it had happened. Joey was cute and had reminded him of Pattie in a way. Besides all the rum and Coke had crept up on him. The real truth was he loved Pattie and regretted hurting her. It was stupid to talk to Joey on the phone at home.
“Come on, love. You gotta forgive me. I can’t live without you. You know that.” George kept rubbing her neck. Then he moved to her shoulders. He could feel the tension knotted up there. She probably had a headache. When ever Pattie got upset, she almost always got a headache.
Pattie let out a huge sigh. The Valium was taking effect and already she was relaxing into George. Then she remembered that sexy murmuring she’d overheard and she stiffened with anger.
“Come on, babe. Other girls don’t matter. You know just what you mean to me.” George’s nimble fingers unzipped the back of her dress just enough that he could kiss her back between her shoulder blades. He was glad she couldn’t see his smile when she shivered at the touch of his lips on her skin. “I need you,” he said between kisses and he was relieved she didn’t resist when he finished unzipping her dress and he slid his hands over her waist and up her stomach. He stopped there and held her, but nuzzled her neck. Thank God he hadn’t gotten it on with Joey. If he hadn’t been drunk he would never have given her their home phone number. She didn’t call often but when ever she did and Pattie found out, she always freaked out and then she’d leave. He’d have to tell Joey to stop calling. He liked her, she was funny, but he really did love Pattie. “Tell me you won’t leave,” George hated to beg, but he knew he’d been wrong.
Pattie rolled over and looked at him. “Don’t talk to her on this phone ever again. If you swear to God you won’t, then I’ll stay.” He was so fucking handsome. His hair was a mess, but he was always sexy in his white cotton tee shirt and he still had on his pinstripe trousers. Sometimes she hated herself for being so in love with him. Women adored him on sight. If she stayed with him, she knew he’d end up breaking her heart.
“I’ll do what ever you want. I swear to God.” She had said “this phone” and he knew he could keep that promise. She didn’t know it yet, but he’d finally written a pretty good song from all this angst. George kissed her gently. She turned her head away so he stuck his tongue in her ear which always drove her crazy. At first she squirmed and tried to get away, but he was stronger than she was and finally he found her mouth with his. When she didn’t stop him, he deepened the kiss and when she started to kiss him back, he got that dress off of her.
With an expertise born of plenty of practice, he unhooked her bra with one hand. And when she was completely undressed, he did the only thing he knew to make her remember she could never really live without him. He made love to her as deliberately and with as much attention that he gave to his guitar solos. She was the only girl he’d ever loved as much as he loved playing music. He loved the sounds she made when he was making the right moves. When she took forever to come, he could tell she’d taken one of her pills. Her eyes were closed and she was just so into what he was doing. “Don’t stop,” she said more than a few times and he kissed and licked and nipped every inch of her until she said, “Now, darling.” Somehow while he had been doing the thing he did as well as playing the guitar, he gotten his own clothes off and the lift of her hips let him know she wanted him inside of her.
“Like this?” he asked her as he finally, finally was where he wanted to be. They rocked in rhythm, slowly at first and then faster. He was steady on until she moaned his name and he knew he could let go. Then they were under the covers and she was snuggled up next to him, her hand on his chest while he held her close in his arms.
Pattie did feel better. George was just perfect in almost every way. It was so unfair. If he were a regular guy with a normal job, she thought she’d still love him. But even if he were a banker or even a cab driver, girls would still be after him. George was so sexy and handsome. He was charming and funny. Usually he had her laughing, not crying.
“Guess what,” he hugged her tightly and kissed her temple, still damp with effort even though it was cold.
“What?” Pattie smiled just a little. George knew she wasn’t as angry as she had been earlier.
“We are going to the Bahamas!”
She sighed a little and pursed her lips. “Yes, I know you all are going to the Bahamas to film your movie.”
“No, Pattie. You and me! We’re going on the 9th. You’ll get to see where we’re going to shoot the movie and we’ll stay with Walter Stratch. “ George turned so he could look at her face.
At last she smiled. “The Bahamas!!??!!” Even Valium couldn’t stifle her excitement. He knew how she felt. The weather was so dreary and grey that the idea of a trip to a sunny island erased all the misery of that blasted phone call. At last his girl was back and she was happy.
“I love you,” she mumbled as she drifted off. Jesus! He hadn’t realize loving someone took more than great sex to make it work. “I love you, too.” And he meant it. Being lonely was shit, and even if it was hard to admit, he was convinced he could never really live without her. He threw his leg over hers, and soon he was asleep, too.
Note: I think I’ve posted this on here before and I have posted it on AO3. Inspiration from the idea that George wrote I Need You because Pattie broke up with him over Joey Heatherton.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Beatles (Band)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Pattie Boyd/George Harrison
Characters: George Harrison (The Beatles), Pattie Boyd, Harry Harrison, Louise Harrison | George Harrison's Mother, John Lennon, Terry Doran
Additional Tags: fan fiction, Minor Character Death, 1970, beatles break up
Summary:
One year from the point of view of Pattie.
The title is the phrase coined by Queen Elizabeth II after a particularly awful year for her. This fic isn't to suggest that this was Pattie's worst year; just a difficult one.
I don’t romanticize it as much anymore. Not like I used to.
When you’re young, you think love alone explains everything. When you’re older, you start to see the gaps—the silences, the selfishness, the ways you both failed.
That day in the snow at Friar Park still comes back to me.
George looked beautiful in winter. Quieter. Less guarded. The snow softened him, as if it dampened the noise he carried inside. I took photographs of him walking through the gardens, half-smiling, pretending not to notice me, though he always did. When he turned and said, “Come on, darling,” I remember the butterflies in my chest. My heart skipped a beat.
He took the camera from me and photographed me in return. I remember feeling silly, exposed, eager for his attention. I loved him desperately. I also felt, even then, that he was slipping away from me.
We laughed. We threw snow. For a few hours, we looked like the couple people imagined us to be.
But there was an undercurrent. Restlessness. Hurt. Unspoken things piling up. We wanted each other, yes—but we also wanted reassurance, something neither of us quite knew how to give.
When the cold became too much, we went inside. The house felt enormous and echoing, firelight flickering. He brushed snow from my hair, called me darling again, quieter this time. There was tenderness, and longing, and a sadness we both felt.
We ended up clinging to each other the way we often did when words failed. Warmth. Skin. Breath. A brief illusion that closeness could fix what we didn’t know how to face. For a little while, it felt like enough.
And as good as our love making was, it wasn’t enough. We would hold each other and murmur how much we loved each other, but once out of bed, the connection was lost.
We couldn’t see the photographs for weeks, of course. Film had to be developed. By the time those photos were in our hands, our marriage had already begun to crack in ways I didn’t want to admit.
If I’m honest, my biggest regret isn’t that we failed.
It’s that I didn’t speak sooner. Didn’t demand more. Didn’t leave earlier—or fight harder—when it still might have mattered. I stayed quiet fearing his anger. I stayed hopeful when I should have faced reality.
We loved each other. We really did.
But love couldn’t save us. And sometimes I wonder how different things might have been if I hadn’t been so afraid of losing him—and had demanded what I wanted from him.
Still, when I think of that winter day, I don’t feel sadness.
I remember the way he said darling.
I remember the snow.
And I remember that, for a few fragile hours, I believed we would make it after all.
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