Part XVIII


My good friend Sharon, the cheerleader captain.


I was driven a block away, where Paul joined me, running like a madman from one car to another… John was with him.

- Lennon, what the hell---

- I told ya me body was being saved fer yer mate! - He posed a huge, fake, toothy smile. I was glad to see he was no longer upset.

- You are incorrigible, Lennon…- I laughed. – Cyn’s in the hotel, you know

- Yeh, well she gets to ‘ave the best of me, being the missus and all… So never mind tha’, luv! Now, the question is…- He leaned over, pushing Paul. –Is she pretty, yer mate?

Paul shook his head with a smile as I giggled. – Sort of. She was the Captain of the cheerleader team… She’ll be glad to see you, you know… You’re her fave Mop Top! - I shuffled his hair.

- Eah, mind the do! - He slapped my hand.

- OW!

- Watch it! Don’t go ‘itting ‘er! – Paul threatened him playfully, knowing that John’s slaps were more a matter of fun than aggression.

John pursed his lips. – You don’t luv me anymore, Paulie?

- I never did, you tart. - Paul giggled as he turned to the window.

John gasped. –You bastard! You cheat!

I had to laugh at the way the word bastard sounded more like Baztud coming from them. John then slapped Paul on the shoulder repeatedly, until Paul pounced back at him. – Eah! Quit slapping me around, bitch!

The two little children wrestled around in the huge car as I stared amused.

When we arrived at Sharon’s, their perfectly blown-dry little hairdos were all over the place. They were all sweaty and giggly and looked like two schoolboys fresh from school break time.

The car pulled over. I had no clue how Sharon’s parents would react when they saw I had two of the world’s most famous people with me. Especially with such behavior. But it was a chance worth taking.

I rang the bell and waited. Sharon’s dad opened the door. – Rita? - He asked wide-eyed. –Rita McCormick? Is that you? - He smiled and hugged me. –How are you? We thought you were in England, next thing we know you’re on your way here!

Mrs. Gooch was soon at the door, greeting me. – Rita! You look amazing! - She too hugged me. – Sharon told me you were modeling! - She then looked up at John and Paul, who had by now put their combs away after brushing the mop tops and adjusting their ties. – And who are these dandy gents? - She smiled. –English friends?

John and Paul exchanged confused looks. Sharon was a total Beatle nut, and her mom and dad didn’t recognize the two most prominent of the band?

- Mrs. Gooch, these are my friends… This is Paul…

- Hello. – Paul stretched his hand out and smiled that little smile he always saved for greetings. –How do you do?

- My, my! They are British! - She marveled at his accent. Still no clue!

- … And this is John.

- Hi. - John was never quite as diplomatic as Paul, but nonetheless shook hands with both parents.

- Come in, please! - Mr. Gooch invited us in. We stepped into the livingroom. John and Paul seemed rather shy and somewhat fearful.

- Where’s Sharon? - I asked.

- Oh, we just asked her to go get a couple bottles of milk, she won’t take long. Please sit down. - Her mother stepped into the kitchen. –I’m guessing John and Paul would love some English tea, right?

- Yes, please, Mrs. Gooch. That would be luvely. – Paul said as he sat down next to John.

I remembered my thoughts about the tea cliché earlier that afternoon and I chuckled a bit.

- Well, Rita! Sharon told me she lost track of you after you left school. - Her father lit up a pipe. – What have you been up to? Modeling in London? Is that true?

- Yeah. - I nodded.

- She’s pretty good too! - Paul added. –On the cover of this month’s Vogue, you know…

- Trend-setting capital of the world today, I hear. England’s got America by the neck! - He giggled a bit. He looked at John and Paul. –You boys are even dressed up like those…- He snapped his fingers. –Oh, what are their names? - He then turned his head over to the kitchen. –Jocelyn! What’s the name of that band Sharon is gaga about?

- The Beatles! - Came the shout from the kitchen.

- THE BEATLES! - He leaned back remembering. –I personally think their good, but my wife there can’t listen to one minute of their music.

Paul and John were obviously having trouble keeping a straight face. –Well, they are the best rock n’ roll band in the world, you know…- John began, making both Paul and I turn to look at him. –Personally, I’m a fan. I just luv tha’ "Yeah, yeah, yeah! Ooohhh!" thing they do. - He shook the mop top around in true Beatle fashion.

Paul tilted his head down to hide a giggle. I simply sat and smiled.

- So, what do you two boys do for a living? -

- Err…- Paul bit his lip and regained composure. – We play in a band…

- Oh! So you two really are fans of these guys? - Mr. Gooch laughed out loud. –Any success?

- Some…- Paul smiled.

John spoke again. –A bit. Sold a record or two, ‘ere and there. Nothing too important, you know…

The fun about John’s jokes was how he was able to keep a straight face while saying stupidities.

Just then, Mrs. Gooch came out with a huge tray holding a teapot, cups and a small bowl of sugar. Paul immediately stood up and took the tray from her. –‘Ere, let us ‘ave tha’…-

- ‘Es a real gent, isn’t ‘e? - John told Mr. Gooch, who laughed heartily at John’s witty sense of humor.

- Rita, where did you pick these fine guys up? - He turned to me laughing loudly. –You have one of these for my daughter, maybe?

Insane laughter was unavoidable this time. If only I told him why Johnny Lennon was here!

- I know a few! - I giggled.

Just then the door opened. I could hear Sharon’s voice in the hallway.

- Mom, is Rita here yet?

- Yes, honey, we’re in the living room! Come say hello!

I heard her run. I saw her freeze by the door. I saw the milk spill to the floor.

- Sharon!!- Her mother shouted angrily. She was embarrassed as all hell, but obviously had no idea why Sharon was reacting like that.

- R… R…Rita…- She was barely able to stand on her feet. – You… They…

- ‘Ello, Sharon! - Paul stood up immediately and walked to her holding his hand out. –Rita’s told us a bunch of stuff about you!

Sharon was frozen, and took her a long while to be able to shake Paul’s hand. A very long while!

John stood behind me and whispered as he passed by me . –She’s luvely. I’m ‘aving ‘er…- I just hoped her folks hadn’t heard that.

- Sharon! Shake Paul’s hand, will you? You’re being rude! - Mr. Gooch spoke between clenched teeth.

- No, it’s all right Mr. Gooch! - Paul smiled. –Sum girls take even longer in saying ‘ello to us. No hurry ‘ere…

- ‘Ello, Sharon!!- John’s loud greeting reminded me of his "’Ello, Grandfather!" in "A Hard Day’s Night".

Sharon was weeping as she finally shook Paul’s hand. –Oh, God… Rita! You DO know them!

John and Paul giggled and I smiled. –Yep. Why would I lie to you?

- Good God, Sharon! What’s gotten into you? - Her mother scolded her as she ran a mop on the milky floor.

Sharon turned to her mother with awe. – What do you mean, "what’s gotten into me"? - She pointed at the two lads. –These are John Lennon and Paul McCartney!

- We know their names, Sharon! - Her father barked.

Sharon huffed, and went to the living room record player to pull out her copy of "Meet the Beatles". She pointed at their faces on the large cardboard sheath in front of her father’s nose. –See anything familiar, dad?

The pipe fell square out of his mouth and Mrs. Gooch stopped mopping.

- Good God alive! - Mr. Gooch compared the faces on the record cover to those of his two visitors from England. –You two are…. You’re… Beatles?

John and Paul nodded somewhat shyly. Mrs. Gooch dropped the mop to the floor and covered her mouth with her hands. – Rita! How did you…?

- It’s a long story, Mrs. Gooch. - I smiled. – Sharon, can we go to your room?

Sharon nodded, still unable to speak. John immediately stood next to her and tried to chat her up. –So, Ritty ‘ere told us yer the cheerleader cappy, hey? You still do tha’, then?- He spoke as we closed her bedroom door behind us after Paul spoke a gracious –Thanks fer the tea. Excuse us, please."

- I… I… I was the… err, cheerleader team Captain, yeah…- She sat on her bed, staring at John like he was a god. Paul fidgeted around with a couple of empty Beatle Shampoo bottles. All four bottles were empty, and had for caps the heads of each of the Fabs.

- John, look at these, will ya? - He smiled as he held them out for John to see. He then turned to Sharon. – Where did you get these, luv?

- In any supermarket you can get them. - She answered eagerly. –I would have thought you guys would have known about these!

John laughed. –Luvvie, if only you had the slightest idea of all the crap we never find out about! –

Paul kept on fidgeting with Sharon’s Beatle collection atop her rack; Toothpaste tubes, photographs, notebooks, broaches, a clock, a pendant, a couple of notebooks, pens and pencils, posters, booklets with song lyrics, trading bubble gum cards… Paul even pointed at her bed and floor where she had a Beatle quilt and a Beatle rug.

- Cor, I’m going shopping before I go home! - He laughed.

- So, Sharon…- I began. –Thought what you’re gonna study yet?

- Yeah…- She nodded, still staring with bewildered eyes at her two curious visitors. – I think I’ll keep going to Art School… It’s not far from here… I think I’ll just finish lettering and literature…

- You go to art school, then? - John sat, being so charming it was obvious that it was a gimmick. – I was in art school meself, you know… back in Liverpool, wasn’t I Paul?

Paul nodded. –Yeh… Should ‘ave seen ‘im! Mean little teddy boy with his brushes and pencils and stuff…

- God, I love the way they talk! - She giggled to me. – They say "stoof"!

John and Paul blushed a little.

- So, ‘ow do you say it, then? - Paul sat so close to her she quivered.

- Stuff…

- Stoof…- Paul repeated, laughing at himself. –Cor, I can’t say it like tha’…- He stood up and continued staring at the posters.

After chatting for a bit, once Sharon was a bit calmer, we began talking about the topic of being roommates. Sharon seemed a bit shocked, and wondered why it was so necessary for me to have company while I was here. She went white when I dropped the bomb.

- You’re… pregnant? - She asked, wide-eyed. –How did you…?

- She ‘ad sex, that’s how! - John smiled. – She’s been naughty, haven’t you, luv?

- Shut up, John. – Paul scolded him.

Sharon stared at me disbelievingly. – Rita, what are you going to do?

I shrugged and smiled. –Have the baby, I guess… I can pick up where I left off after it’s born.

- You’re going to put it up for adoption? - Sharon asked.

- Huh! She won’t, you know… - Paul blurted out as he played around with a Beatle brooch.

- Why not? - Sharon seemed dead worried. -I mean, what about your career? Besides, where’s the father? Shouldn’t he be here with you?

John laughed insanely. – What do you think tha’ thing standing there is, then? - He pointed at Paul. – Me mate ‘ere’s been a bit of a naughty boy as well, you know, ‘aven’t you, Paulie?

- Yup. - Paul giggled, as he leafed through a Beatle magazine.

Sharon stared at me, jawslacked. – You… You are having HIS baby? – She screeched. All three of us had to turn to her with a loud "Shh!"

- Yeah, I am. – I nodded afterwards. – We just sort of… you know…

Paul sat next to me and kissed me on the cheek. Then with an arm around me, turned to Sharon.

- We just sort of fell fer each other, that’s all there is to it. – He then put his hands together, leaning his elbows on his knees, and inclined a bit forward to Sharon. –The situation is this, luv…-

He went on to explain the plan to Sharon, who listened with strong attention. All of us were especially careful to insist this had to be kept a top-secret situation, as Beatle dirt could be deadly to the band. John was smart enough to state that she was the only one outside the circle to know, so if word leaked, it could only have been her fault. That way, Sharon was guaranteed to keep her mouth shut. I later had a go at John for that, as I had known Sharon since my childhood and knew her to be reliable.

- So then…- Paul spoke to her. –Will you look after her fer me, while I’m not ‘ere?

Sharon smiled at me. –You lucky, lucky woman! - She then turned to Paul with a grin. –I’d love to help you guys out! I’ll be quiet, I swear! When do I move out?

I bit my lip. –Tomorrow… Or the day after, the latest.

I thought Sharon would start thinking twice. But she just stood up with a smile and asked John to get off the bed for a second so she could pull out a suitcase. –Go on, Rits! Help me pack my stuff!- As I stood up, she grabbed my arm and gave me a wry grin. -You nailed a Beatle... And of all Beatles, you nailed Paul, dammit... you have to tell me how you do that sort of stuff!

- I luv the way she sez stuff, don’t you Paul? - John mocked.

Within minutes, she was all packed up for two months. The hard part was explaining to her parents without telling them I was with child. Naturally, the apprehensive parents that they were, they at first said a blatant no, but then, Paul (our secret weapon) spoke to them in his usual, persuasive diplomatic form. Mrs. Gooch, who had fallen for the British charm, was the first to say yes, even though there was a gleam in her eye that said the opposite. Mr. Gooch finally fell with it, because "the Beatles looked clean enough to him." That’s when I saw that being a Beatle had both pros and cons, one of the pros being that you could get away with murder.

It was agreed that we would send a car in for Sharon the next day at noon. After a long hug, I said goodbye to my friend until the next day. Before John and Paul left, she had them sign their names on one of the Beatle notebooks. John added three kisses, writing a sly "I’ll see more of you later!" before his signature. She handed me the notebook to get her the autographs of George and Ringo if at all possible.

Once in the car, I turned to Paul. –Satisfied?

- Plenty. - He slapped my knee gently.

Arriving in the hotel was a bit saddening. It would be a few hours until the boys left for San Francisco. One thing was for sure; Paul and I had agreed to meet and spend the night together when it was their time to play in New York… Both times.

Cyn was already getting ready for bed when we arrived. When asked by Brian how it had all gone, we spoke and stated that it was all under control. Brian had his doubts, knowing the nature of Beatle gossip, but could do little else other than take to conformity and go to bed. John and George stayed up playing poker and gambling cigarettes. Ringo was watching TV with Neil. Mal was already in bed. Jet lag was really getting the best of them. I was able to see this when I looked into Paul’s eyes. His eyes were slightly droopy by nature. Now he was looking like a Basset hound.

- Tired? - I rubbed his shoulders.

He nodded with his eyes closed, leaning his head on his right hand.

- Why don’t you go to bed? –

He looked at me, then closed his eyes and leaned back with a tired little grin.

- Yeh. I’m turning in. Cuming?

I smiled and nodded. –Let’s go.

We went to bed, spending our first night together in sleep so deep it was dreamless. At least to him.

I woke up in the middle of the night, panting, screaming and gasping.

- Eah, luv! - Paul sat up, wearing a cotton vest and just his pajama bottom. –It’s just a bad dream...- He pulled me to him. –There… Shh…- He caressed my hair as he pulled me to his chest. – It’s all right….

Still gasping, I put an arm around his chest. He gently lay me on the bed, and leaning on one elbow, he gently removed the hair from my sweaty face.

- Dreaming of the attack again?

I shook my head. I felt the tears welling in my eyes. – Paul, there’s so much more besides that…

I went on to tell him the story Jess had told me. He listened silently, paying attention to every word that came out of my mouth, not once flinching or showing pity of any sort. He toyed around with a small chain I always carried around my neck, staring at it, his jaw set. When I was done, he looked at me.

- Seems you got a lot of work to do, hey luv? - He kissed my forehead and leaned down a bit lower, but still on his elbow. – This man can’t hurt you anymore… But you can, you know…

- What? What do you mean? - I turned sharply to him.

- Yeh! - He raised his brows. – I mean, the only one who’s hurting you ‘ere, now is you! - He paused, hoping not to hurt my feelings with what he was about to say. – Look what it did to Jesse… better said, look what she did to ‘erself… You ‘ave to let go. You remember, now let go…

- How do you do that? - I looked away. –First I had no clue what the hell was eating me… Now I wish I had never known.

- Don’t say tha’! - Paul turned my face to him. – Like I said, the first step is to always remember… Then to let go, you ‘ave to let it all out, slowly.- He smiled at me. –Seems yer doing the right thing… Just takes a bit of time, that’s all.

I gulped. – Ever been through something like that?

He shook his head. –No, thank God… But I ‘ave gone through a feeling of guilt…

- When?

- Stu. - He pressed his lips. He was silent and suddenly turned to switch the light on. He stood up and shuffled through his pockets, looking for his cigarettes. He came back to the bed holding the packet, a lighter and an ashtray. –You want a cig?

I sat up, took the cigarette, and let him light it. After he lit his, he began to talk. – Stuart was John’s closest mate in Art School. Told ya about ‘im earlier on, didn’t I?. I thought ‘e was ok, you know… I sort of admired ‘im a bit. He was really bloody talented, too… In an impressionist sort of way…- He giggled. – Yer an art student, you ought to understand them sort of things, hey? - After I nodded, he continued speaking. –Anyway, one day ‘e comes into this pub with us, and tells us ‘es just earned a crapload of dough from a painting. ‘E was so pleased with ‘imself. - He looked down and shook his head with a smile. – John and I immediately badgered ‘im until ‘e bought a bass with that money… Naturally, he couldn’t play, but I kept telling him "Naa, mate, I’ll teach ya!"- He sighed. –The problem was that I was as patient as Satan was…- He chuckled. –I kept shouting at ‘im and stuff… Truth was, ‘e didn’t ‘ave it in ‘im, you know… He was a brilliant painter, but not a rock musician. But it was better to ‘ave ‘im there as a bass player than to have no bassist at all. Next thing, ‘e starts to flirt with this chick during a gig, and gets the shit beaten out of ‘im by a bunch of Teddy boys fer tha’. John, George and I saved ‘is life there, really… You can imagine how they left ‘im, the poor sod… Bleeding through the conk, ‘e was…

- Conk? I sneered.

- The ‘ead, luv. - He smiled at me. – He ‘ad been kicked on the ‘ead. With steel-tipped cowboy boots, too. We wanted to take ‘im to the ‘ospital, but ‘e wouldn’t ‘ave any of tha’. – He puffed again. – Then there was Hamburg… I hate to admit this, but I was a bit jealous of him. ‘E was best mates with John, and tha’ sort of got in me way… Not that I’m proud of them thoughts today, mind you. But I was a little prick… Really. – He sighed and leaned on the pillow. – There was this girl we all knew, Astrid…- He grinned, staring at his cigarette. –She was gorgeous. She’s the one who took our very first professional photos, you know. She was yet ANOTHER art student… So you can imagine…

- She and Stu got together…- I added.

Paul nodded as he spoke. –And I sort of fancied ‘er… Well, we all did. But I think I was the only real arsehole in the lot. I began to make fun of Stu on stage. Undeserved barbs really. Gave ‘im a shove or two, thinking ‘e was much too frail and small to hit back. – He seemed legitimately ashamed of himself as he spoke. – But one day, I went on and said sumthing really bad about Astrid, just to spite ‘im, and well…- Paul laughed out a sad little giggle. –He shocked me by pinning me to the floor and busting me big loud gob open. I did fight back, but I sort of stopped picking on him after tha’. Not entirely, but I was definitely a bit less of a prick. - He shook the ashes off the cig. – He stayed in Germany when George, Pete and I were deported…

- You were deported??- I asked wide-eyed. –Why?

He laughed. - Stupid stuff, really. George was seventeen and thus not allowed playing in clubs. Pete and I…- He laughed. –It’s so silly…- He looked at me. –We pinned this condom on a wall in the place where we were living and set light to it. Now that I think about it, we were set up, because nuthing could ‘ave caught fire in there, it was just a cement wall. But the club owner was pissed anyway, because we were playing in the rival club and were moving out… So he sends the cops over to us, Pete and I get busted for bloody arsine, can you believe tha’? So we spend our last night in Hamburg in the can. A bloody German can!

- So you have been in Jail? - I smiled.

Paul grinned back. –Yeh… Not a nice jail, either. Bloody cold, it was. German jail...Sumone got us out and sent us straight to the bloody airport without our luggage. George was waiting fer us at the train station in Liverpool, all teary eyed… Well, we were all teary eyed, really. We thought it was the end of the band. But the next day John called us all up, saying ‘e was ‘ome too…-

- But Stu stayed?

- Yeh…- He nodded. –Wanted to marry Astrid and study more art. But then…- he suddenly got extremely sad. – He ‘ad been ‘aving these really bad headaches. None of us knew where they came from. When the band got really big in Liverpool, we were asked to play the hottest club in Hamburg, this time legally. George was already over eighteen, I believe…- He blinked a few times. –John had spoken to Stu… he told us tha’ he was really looking forward to seeing us again. I really wanted to tell ‘im I was sorry fer all the crap I gave ‘im in the past. But when we got to Hamburg, we found Astrid all by ‘erself, in a state. – He sighed and took another drag. He then put the cigarette out. – Stu had died the day before… In her arms on the way to the ‘ospital. One final ‘eadache, managed to tell ‘er ‘e loved her fer a last time, and croaked right there…- There was a minute of silence, feeling almost intentional. – John went mental, but just reacted like… well, like John. The tough man. George wept a bit. So did Pete…

- And you? I asked.

He looked at me with his huge, sad, hazel-brown eyes. – I froze. I was like… well…

- Like you were at Jesse’s funeral?

He nodded. –Very much. Only with Stu’s death I felt even worse, because I never had the chance to say I’m Sorry, you know…- He looked at me- So, there you have it.

- Have what?

- Enough beating yerself over Jesse, hey? She’s the one who decided to leave, all right?

I stared at him. I suddenly wondered what I would do without him? It felt as if he had been there my whole life. –Paul…

- Mhm?

- Don’t leave me… Please…-

He stared at me strongly and then held me to him. –Are you out of yer bloody mind? I’m never gonna do tha’!

I held onto him. God, his smell! –Paul, I’m gonna miss you! I’m gonna miss you so much!

- Me too, luv. - He held tight. – Just hold on, I’ll get you back. I promise.

I unavoidably began to kiss his ear. He responded with a pleasurable gasp. –Luv, can you…? I mean, do you really think we should…?

- I feel better now…- I replied, still running the tip of my tongue up and down his left ear. –Please…-

He pulled away and looked at me. –God, yer bloody beautiful, you know tha’?

I shivered as he lay back down on top of me, kissing my neck. I savored the salty taste of his china white skin while my fingers ran up his back under the white cotton vest, tugging it up until I managed to pull it over his head. The kissing stopped as he silently undressed me. Although I had seen him completely naked before, he had never set eyes on me. The two previous times we had done it had been under Jane’s sheets and under the skirt of a dress, during hasty situations. He seemed to enjoy undoing each and every button of the shirt I was using to sleep. It took him a while to recognize his own shirt, and giggled at the thought of removing men’s clothes from a woman’s body. I touched his nipples with the tip of my finger while he opened the shirt on me. He stared at my breasts and a sweet smile arose on his lips. –Perfect…- He mumbled as he caressed then with the back of his hand. I gasped at his touch, and I sat up to kiss him, pressing my naked torso to his. Such an overwhelming sensation! The kiss went form mild to passionate, and I felt him getting hard as he once again lay down on top of me. Still locked in a frantic, passionate kiss, I began to pull down his pajama bottom and underwear, feeling the soft skin of his behind on the palm of my hand. A tiny moan left his lips as he helped me kick off his garments. There he lay, completely nude. And boy, did he look good! He stuck his hand under my waist to hold me while I removed the shirt and threw it to the side. Who needed the shirt, the real thing was right there! The next five minutes or so were dedicated to silent exploration. Gentle touching on the face, on the back, holding hands as we kissed each other’s necks and chests. After that, his mouth went down to my breasts, making me soar into heaven. I had to control myself, or my nails would have pierced his back as his hand took a spin to touch my most intimate corners. I gasped, and he looked at me, skillfully touching my soul with his left and tenderly caressing my face with his right. For a long while, his words seemed distant, but upon reasoning, I understood his words had been meant to stimulate me further. "You like that, then?" "I love you." "Go on, love, you can do it." "Yeah, that’s a good girl!"

After a while, my hand took life and went straight for him. I gently touched him as he closed his eyes and leaned back with a soft groan. He pulled his hands away from me, and grabbed the sheets tight as I stroke him gently. I realized that looking at his facial expressions were as huge a turn-on as what seeing me had been to him. We were both beginning to sweat. He had his lips partially open, occasionally biting his lower lip and frowning with his eyes closed. Suddenly he moved, holding my hand away. –Wait! Wait! 'Old on, before I... I...- He was panting like a madman. –Just give us a few secs, ‘ere…- - Sex? Got plenty to give!

He giggled between gasps. – Smart-ass…- We looked at each other for a few more seconds, and then he smiled. –Ready?

I nodded, and then felt heaven when he went inside me. This time, it was far better than the previous two. Many reasons were involved in that. One, it was official; The man loved me, not The Beatle, but Paul, the man. Second, we had more time. Third, this was a bed for the two of us. Ours to have for the night. Not Jane’s bed, and not a hard wall in an empty studio apartment in Marylebone. He took it slow, displaying such skill at self-control, it seemed to go on for hours when it was really just about twenty minutes. A long while all the same, enough to make me reach heaven and back. His muffled groans on my ears, the feel of his sweat mingled with my own and the smell of his body were enough to disconnect me from reality for a while. For a very long, pleasurable while. His grip on my shoulder suddenly hardened as he gasped one final time, and froze still. I was already pregnant, so what difference did it make? He lay there on top of me, the heaviest yet most adorably comfortable blanket that had ever covered me. The edges of his hair were wet, so was his back and the sides of his head. He trembled and shivered. That was a new! He rose up, looked into my eyes, and touched my face with his hand. –God, I luv you…- He mumbled before falling back on me. In a matter of minutes, he was asleep.

I turned and helped him roll groggily to his back, looking with amazement as his naked, relaxed self as he slept. Truth of the matter was that male genitalia has never been pretty to look at, but for some reason, he seemed to me as beautiful as any other beautiful thing I had ever seen. Love… That was the only explanation. Kissing his cheek, I pulled the blanket over him, leaving his chest uncovered. I then wiggled underneath, and pulled the thicker quilt over the both of us. I leaned on his chest, and slept, this time without any nightmares. That very night, Paul finished doing what Dr. Buckley had started. I knew I was completely cured now.

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