Miss Americana // The Beatles

Chapter 11

December 14, 1959

I looked up to the decorative white trim around the top of the walls where they met the ceiling. My eyes rolled back, losing myself in this moment that I wished would last forever. My hands were in John's hair as he kissed my neck, making love to me. I wrapped my legs tighter around his hips, the French record playing softly from Stu's old gramophone. I looked outside again in bliss, a slow but steady flutter of snowflakes falling from the overcast December sky. In the distance the Liverpool Cathedral was standing on the hill above the city.

"John," I breathed out in pleasure as he went deeper, holding me close to him.

I turned my head to the other side, the fire was crackling the fireplace beside his mattress on the floor. The Christmas tree we had put up the other day had a soft, warm glow. Yesterday was my birthday. John, Stu and some of their other mates from art school that I had grown to become friends with had thrown me a surprise party in the flat. There was still glitter and confetti on the old hardwood floors from the party last night.

I opened my eyes, looking deeply into John's. The hazel ring around the lustfully dilated black in the center had those tiny specs of green that I searched for in intimate moments like this.

"I love you," he whispered, then grunting, burying his head in my neck, his breath hitting my ear as he confessed, "I'm close."

My nails drug slowly down his back as the pleasure built for the, I lost count, time today. John and I slept for a bit after making love after the party last night. When I awoke earlier this morning, he had fixed breakfast for me, burning the toast and overcooking the eggs. We laughed and ate it anyway as not to waste what little food we had in the flat. John decided to skip art school today because he wanted to spend time with me, but also partly because he didn't finish his assignments for finals before the holiday break.

John thrusting became faster and sloppier, "Fuck," he whispered in my ear.

I threw my head back and moaned over the old French music playing softly, "John..."

I felt a sudden emptiness low in my body as John rolled to the side and collapsed beside me, panting, trying to catch his breath his heavy lust that filled the room. I looked over at him, and he brought me into his arms. I wanted to stay like this forever. I wasn't sure about leaving our comfortable life in Liverpool to go to Hamburg. I didn't know what to expect in Germany, but hoped John and I could stay like this.

I hummed to the French music, and John held me closer, looking into my eyes and kissing me.

"John," I looked into his eyes, "Take me to Paris someday. It seems so romantic."

"Maybe when we're in Germany, we can make our way over. Have a holiday together," he quietly promised me.

There was calm silence between us before I spoke again, "Are you nervous about Germany? I mean, can we really trust this Allan guy?"

"Yeah," John said, "This is a big opportunity for the band and for you, Sasha. This is the break we need. Then we can have our dreams come true, and truly start our life together. A lot of bands make it there, I've heard."

I nodded, trusting John's judgement, knowing that he would protect me and guide me no matter what. I felt safe with him of course. We had been together for two and a half years. I was so in love with him that it hurt sometimes. Hurt in the way that when we were apart for whatever reason, be it him at art school or on stage with the band, I missed him, wanting him beside me. I was selfishly glad that he had decided to skip class today and stay with me. I guessed Stuart was at class. I closed my eyes, thinking of him.