Yeah Yeah Yeah (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

34. Let's Go Talk to the Little People

January - February 1967
London

Alice

"Oh, Lissy, Lissy, Lissy, Lou."

It was well past 3 when Paul finally crawled into bed. The mattress next to me dipped, and I heard the thump of his belt hitting the floor and the softer thud of his trousers and shirt.

"Budge up, love," he murmured, running a hand over my shoulder. I opened one eye and took him in, shirtless and slightly stoned. I could sense the energy pouring off of him, which was often the case when he came home from the studio. It was like he was on a creative high that he had to come down from, regardless of what anyone else felt like doing.

"What time is it?" I asked, making room for him and then turning away. He collapsed onto the bed, smelling of whisky, too many cigarettes, and the distinct tang of patchouli that somehow always followed him home from EMI. He curled up on his side and pulled me against him, his body bracketing mine and his lips next to my ear.

"Just past 3. Thought you were going to stop by."

"Flight was delayed," I murmured, already half-asleep. I'd just returned from four days of back-to-back flights. "Thunderstorms in the southwest of France."

"We rehearsed my new song tonight," Paul said as he ran his fingers up and down my bare arm. I didn't reply, instead focusing on his fingertips that trailed lightly down my torso until they reached the bottom of my silk camisole.

"Donovan popped by the studio. He's playing at the Royal Albert Hall in a few weeks, do you fancy going?"

I still didn't reply, instead turning onto my back and pulling a pillow over my face. The air felt cold without Paul against me, and I immediately missed him. I heard him chuckle softly, and then there was a pause. The mattress creaked slightly as he shifted his weight, the duvet rustling as he repositioned himself. I felt his hand cup my inner thigh a moment later, followed by a trail of featherlight kisses.

"I missed you," he murmured, his lips against my skin. "It's no fun when you're not around."

His hand trailed up the inside of my thigh, and it took all my energy not to squirm in anticipation. I was fully awake but didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing so. His hand stopped at the lacy edge of my panties, a recent purchase from Rome.

"Are these new? I think they must be new because I sure as fuck would remember these."

He ran a hand over me and my inhale was more audible than I would have liked. He chuckled softly as he pushed aside the fabric and slipped a finger inside me. I finally pulled the pillow away to look down at him. His tousled hair gleamed in the moonlight, and I reached down to comb my fingers through his hair, tugging slightly. He looked up with a smirk.

"Oh, hullo. Have I got your attention now?"

He slipped another finger in, moving in and out at a steady pace, his eyes locked on mine. I held my head up as long as possible before admitting defeat and letting it fall heavily on the pillow. His mouth dipped to join his fingers, causing me to shake my head slightly and tug him upwards. His face was unreadable as he hovered above me, his lips just above mine.

We remained motionless for a long moment in a silent stand-off. I could feel him heavy against my thigh, and I was feeling rather desperate for him. But, finally, I managed to gather my wits about me.

"Was it the one about Liverpool?" I asked as nonchalantly as I could manage. His brow furrowed for a moment.

"Are we still talking about my song?" he asked, reaching between us to palm my breast. I closed my eyes for a moment because it had been a very long week away without any of this.