Alternating sets with The Beatles, who’d been in town since August and were already veterans of the Hamburg scene, the nights quickly blended into unbroken monotony.  Rory and the lads in The Beatles worked up a contest on to see which group would be the first to demolish the rickety stage.  Rory won the bet and was fined by Bruno, the club manager, but the competition and rivalry cemented a growing friendship between the bands.

Several weeks later, there was a buzz going ‘round the clubs about the King Lee band; the drummer had been found dead in his room and the lead singer had been found floating in the river.  The other two members of the band had disappeared, and no one seemed to know exactly what had happened, although there was a lot of whispering about drugs and that sort of thing.  It was a real shame, Ringo thought, remembering the band he’d liked….and the dark-haired bird, who had recently begun hanging out at the Kaiserkeller.  He thought she looked too posh for a grimy place like the cellar, with its nautical décor and dank and smoky atmosphere, but she didn’t seem to mind.  The handsome lead singer of the band had always had an eye out for beauty to match his own and had immediately started chatting her up, and Ringo enviously noticed that Rory began sporting an astonishing array of love bites over the next few weeks.

The days and nights blurred into each other, the hours were long and the work grueling.  It was monotonous, and yet it was a happy time for Ringo.  The beer was great, the bird watching was fantastic, and he’d even struck up a friendship with Helge, one of the little blonde barmaids in the club.  He was eventually successful in his quest to win her affections, which wasn’t bad, considering she spoke no English and he spoke no German.  She was a sweet thing, and he enjoyed their time together, not to mention that the cold November weather was setting in and a bed warmer was nearly mandatory!  But the dark-haired girl crept into his thoughts a time or two, usually after he’d seen her in the audience.  Another girl was hanging about the club as well, a beautiful slim blonde with short hair and really pretty eyes, she’d come in with a group of friends and had hit it off well with Stuart Sutcliffe, the bass player from The Beatles.  They looked to be a good match.

A bit later in the month, Ringo borrowed a car from Bruno and took Rory to hospital when his extremely pale friend couldn’t get out of bed.  Ringo wondered if the lad was overdoing things, between the work and the birds, but the doctor at hospital pronounced him anaemic and kept Rory overnight for a blood transfusion.  A bit odd, Ringo thought, wondering what could cause something like that.  He drove back to the club and checked to see if one of the lads from The Beatles could sit in that evening.

That evening started out all right, but things quickly went downhill.  The police came in and picked up George for breaking curfew violations; the lad was only seventeen, and he’d be deported the very next day as penalty for being in the clubs past midnight!  The manager picked that same night to inform The Hurricanes that he was extending the band’s contract until January, and while Ringo wasn’t pleased that he’d be away from home for the holidays, it was still good money.  He felt a bit sorry for the lads in The Beatles, though, they were pretty upset about George, and the poor lad was probably feeling miserable, being sent home nearly in disgrace.

He collected Rory from hospital the next day; his friend had a little more colour, and seemed happy about the contract extension.  Helge gave him a wrapped pressie that night, an early Christmas present, he thought.  It was a small silver cross on a chain, and the gift touched him deeply, although he hadn’t figured her a religious sort.  She’d given pressies to all the lads in The Hurricanes, he realized later when he saw his mates wearing similar crosses.  He suddenly wondered if she was….errr, spreading her favours around.  Well, it wasn’t as if they had a future together or anything, they had no claims on one another.

Another mindless week later, there was more excitement, as Pete and Paul were jailed for trying to burn down their quarters!  Ringo shook his head; The Beatles were finished, and it was too bad, the band was good, and he’d enjoyed getting to know the lads.  He’d miss them, and he wondered if they’d be able to pull themselves together back home in Liverpool.

In the meantime, Helge warmed his bed as often as he could convince her to do so, and beer and prellies from the washroom attendant got him through the long nights with the band.  The weeks passed swiftly, and as he was packing for the return to Liverpool in January of 1961, he realized that the dark-haired girl hadn’t been around since Rory’d left hospital.  They must have had a falling out, and maybe that explained his mate’s black mood during the final weeks in Hamburg.  Ringo sighed; it was a shame he’d never gotten to know the girl any better, he’d never even asked the bird her name!  Well, she’d provided some nice fantasies anyway, and he didn’t think somebody who looked like him would ever have a chance with such a pretty girl anyway.  He resolutely turned his mind from her and determined to forget about her.

ACT I

On the train to Hamburg at the end of March 1961, George felt this was very nearly a triumphant return!  He had his nose pressed against the glass of the window, watching the passing countryside and enjoying a ciggie as he waited anxiously to arrive at the station.  After being thrown out of Germany the previous autumn, he’d thought everything was falling apart, but he and his mates had picked up the pieces and forged on, although he wasn’t really sure what to think about Stu moving to Hamburg the previous month!  Was he even gonna be playing with them during the gig?  Well, he supposed Paul had enough practice on the bass by now, he’d be taking that part for certain.

His thoughts wandered to the pretty blonde German girl his mate had moved in with.  Astrid was so smart and sophisticated, and so nice, too; George liked her a lot.  She and her circle of friends had been pretty gear, and they’d all gotten along well in spite of the language difficulties.  Even Klaus had been a nice guy, even after Astrid had started going out with Stu, and George was pretty sure that she’d been Klaus’s girlfriend before that.

He wished he could find a girl like Astrid for himself.  Or even John’s Cynthia, she was pretty gear, despite having teeth like a horse.  George thought that being virgin was a definite disadvantage whilst living with and working with the older lads, and he’d fought hard to keep his mates from knowing that he hadn’t been with a girl yet.  He’d seen some eye opening sights on his last trip to Hamburg, and he’d had some pretty heated snogging sessions back home with some of the local girls, but it had never gone much beyond a few fumbling feels.  He wondered if he’d have any better luck on this trip.  Last time in Germany, he’d just been a kid, only seventeen, but he was eighteen now, an adult, and it was high time he put theory to practice.  He was a little bit nervous about it, what with having to share a room with the lads, but he hoped he’d be given some privacy in which to accomplish that which continued to be the most important thing on his mind.  Just thinking about it caused a reaction he couldn’t control, and he hoped he’d meet a girl quickly.  He tried to turn his thoughts to the band’s upcoming gig in Hamburg.

It was going to be a grueling three months at the Top Ten Club, 92 nights straight, but George thought he was ready for it.  He loved playing the guitar, and he was gaining confidence with his singing.  The Top Ten was a lot nicer than the Kaiserkeller, too, and they’d actually have a fairly decent room, thank God, not like the dump they’d stayed in last trip, the ‘canal’, Paul had called it, over at the Bambi Kino.  He’d hated that, having to stay in one of the two little storage rooms, no window, only a single overhead bulb, and having to use the cinema toilet as their bath; it had been awful.  Thank God Astrid had let them come over to her place for a soak in her bath tub on occasion; her mum had even been sweet enough to wash their clothes a time or two.  And the photos Astrid had taken, well, they’d been brilliant, she’d made them all look like stars!  She really was pretty incredible.  He’d never met anyone like her before, with her really short hair and her beautiful eyes and skin, the black clothes she always wore; she was a real photographer, had been to school and everything, he’d never heard of a girl doing that before.  She even had a car!

George flicked the ash from his fag and daydreamed for a bit, eventually snapping out of it when the train slowed.  They’d arrived, finally, and he saw his friends on the platform, waiting for them with smiles.  Jesus, Astrid looked good; she’d gotten even prettier during the months that had passed.  First off the train, George gave Stu a bear hug and then stood back awkwardly, wondering how he should greet Astrid.  He was surprised when she hugged him tightly and kissed him on both cheeks.  He could feel the colour rising in his face and tried to put his attention on getting his luggage, trying to control his blush.  Once they were all straightened around, they shoved and packed and pushed everything into Astrid’s car and were precariously on their way to the Top Ten.  George’s ears were ringing with the shouted conversations going on around him by the time they finally arrived.

After stowing all their gear and talking with the manager of the club, they were back in Astrid’s car and headed for her house, where her mum had dinner waiting.  Somehow, he found himself sitting between Astrid and Stu in the front seat, with Paul, Pete and John crunched together in the back seat.  George tried to avoid noticing Astrid’s legs as she drove the car, but Jesus, his mouth went dry; she’d had to hike up her skirt a bit and she had really nice legs!  He got to feeling pretty flustered on the drive; he had his feet on either side of the stick shift and she had to reach over his leg to shift gears, her arm leaning on his thigh as she coaxed the sticky handle into the appropriate position.  Swallowing hard after one particularly difficult transition from first gear to second, George glanced to his right and saw Stuart watching him with a tolerantly amused expression.  George quickly looked away, thinking he’d burst into flames, he was so hot! 

A thought made him pause, did Stu know that he…..well, that he kinda liked Astrid?  Oh, God, did Astrid know?  He started sweating, and he tried to avoid looking at anything and everything for the remainder of the drive.  He wasn’t sure just how he got through the drive and greeting Astrid’s parents, dinner and the return (he never did remember what they’d had for dinner and he was too proud to ask about it), but he knew he only relaxed after they were back at their communal room.  He was relieved that Paul and John and Pete hadn’t seemed to notice anything amiss, and he climbed onto the top bunk he’d been assigned and he tossed around a bit before finally growing drowsy.  If he didn’t find a girl soon, he was going to die, he just knew it!

* * * * *

“George is so cute!  Did you see him looking at my legs tonight?” Astrid teased Stuart on their return home.  Stuart merely laughed.

“You were being cruel, teasing him like that, love, I thought he’d pass out or pop th’ buttons off his trousers with all that shifting you were playing about with!  The poor lad barely ate a bite of dinner, an’ I’d bet he didn’t even realize what was on his plate.  Sitting so close to him at table probably wasn’t very kind either, you’re lucky he didn’t break a glass or have some other kind of accident.  The boy needs to find a gurl, an’ fast!  D’ya know anyone who’d bed him?” he asked as he lit a cigarette for her and passed it to her as she drove.

“Oh, nearly any von I know vould jump at the chance to be his first,” she replied with a nod of thanks, taking a drag on the ciggie and blowing the smoke out.  “The only thing that vorries me is my friend Helge told me she saw that bitch lurking around the clubs again.  I don’t like to think of her getting her claws into our George.”

“Oh, you mean that dark-haired bird, the posh one?  You never did tell me why you disliked her so much.  I remember her, she was hanging out with Rory an’ th’ Hurricanes when John an’ th’ lads were here last time.  She disappeared for a bit, so she’s back now, eh?”

Astrid sighed.  “Stuart, my love, you vouldn’t belief me if I told you vhy I dislike her.  Let’s just say she’s not a nice voman, she’s not vhat she seems, and I think it vould be dangerous for George to spend any time vit her.  Ve must varn our friends.”

Stuart sat back and thought about why his girl seemed so adamant about this.  Maybe it was a woman thing, maybe Astrid just didn’t like the bird because she was so pretty.  But Astrid wasn’t like that, she didn’t have a jealous bone in her body, and she’d never dislike someone just because of how they looked.  Besides, Astrid herself was ten times more beautiful than the dark-haired girl, he thought with affection.  This was an interesting puzzle.

“Explain it to me, please?  An’ don’t give me that I don’t know how to say it in English bullshit, you know a lot more English than you let on, love.  Talk to me, you’ve made me really curious.”

“All right,” Astrid sighed, “but vait until ve get home, hold your curiosity for a few more minutes, ja?”

“Ja,” Stuart replied.  The mystery was on the way to being solved, he thought with a smile.

Her parents were already abed, and Stu had to wait for Astrid to fix tea, but he thought she was stalling.  “C’mon, gurl, I don’t bite, I’m just curious.”

Astrid sat down opposite him in the flowery, red wall-papered living room, absently patting Lody, the family dog, who gazed at her in adoration.  Stu wondered why she wasn’t sitting next to him on the sofa; she had a very serious expression on her face, and he started to feel a bit uneasy.

“Stuart, my love, I feel certain you vill not belief me, but I vill try to explain.  It is important that you realize I am not making the big joke, ja?  I do not tell you this to make you laugh, it is not funny, my love.  Understand?  This is not joke.”

Stuart nodded, ok, his girl was dead serious, he got the picture.

“Do you remember the article in the paper last veek, about the jazz musician who vas found in the park, dead vit no mark on him?”

Stuart nodded, wondering what the connection was.

“Vell, you know that I know many people in Hamburg, ja?  I haf friends everyvhere, ja?”

“Yeah, but…..”

“Vait, you must listen, ja?”

Stuart subsided, nodding again.

“I know things about that man’s death vhich did not go into the papers, Stuart.  From my friends, you understand?  The man vas killed by that bitch.”

“What?  How d’ya know that?  Have you gone to police?”

She shook her head.  “No, ve haf no hard evidence.  But ve know it for truth.”

“So what is she, a drug dealer or something?”

“No, not drugs.  The man’s body vas drained of blood.  The voman is evil.  She is vampyr.”

Stuart blinked in surprise.  “Sorry?”

“The voman is a vampyr.”

He started to laugh when he suddenly remembered Astrid’s protestations of being serious.  His laughter abruptly fled.  He thought about what to say and finally formulated a question.

“Do you mean that th’ woman is….like….Dracula?  In th’ horror movies?  She…..she sucks blood, she’s got fangs?  She’s th’ undead?”

“Ja, maybe, something like,” she said uncertainly.

Stuart couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up, but he apologized as soon as he caught his breath.

“I’m sorry, love, it just sounds so freakin’ weird!  A vampire?  It’s th’ freakin’ nineteen-sixties!  There aren’t vampires, or werewolves, or ghosts, or anything like that.  They’re just stories to scare little kids, that’s all.”

Astrid shook her head stubbornly.  “There is a whole vorld of unexplained phenomena, Stuart.  Ve don’t know for certain, vhat exists as legend might haf a basis in fact.  As far as ghosts, I haf felt my grandparents’ spirits nearby sometimes, so I cannot rule such things out.  But I can tell you for sure, the voman is some kind of vampyr.  Last year, there vas a band playing in town, the King Lee group?  She killed two of them, and two disappeared, never to be seen again.  I belief she killed them as vell, but the bodies haf not yet been found.  She is evil, dangerous.  Maybe not a real vampyr, maybe she’s insane, I just don’t know.  But she drinks blood, or somehow spills it before moving the body elsewhere.  There is no blood near the bodies, and very little blood vithin them.  I don’t know about the fangs, I haf not been that close to her to see.”

“What do th’ police have to say about it?” Stuart asked, but Astrid snorted in an unladylike fashion.

“I told you, Stuart, the police vould never belief any of this.  But I haf friends between the college and the hospital, interested parties, and I haf been kept informed.  The bodies of the drummer and singer vere drained of blood, same as the jazz musician last week.”

“Astrid, love, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can belief….err, believe this, either.  It can’t possibly be true.  Maybe there’s another explanation?” Stu asked quietly.

“I’m sorry you don’t belief me, Stuart, but on the continent, ve haf more of a history vit such things than you do, so isolated you are on your little island; the English Channel is surely a reason for a creature like that to avoid travel to Great Britain.  You know that vampyrs do not cross running water, ja?  But anyvay, even if she is not true vampyr, maybe she beliefs the legends.  You know not all vampyrs are myth, there was Vlad the Impaler, the vorst of them all, and there vere others.  Is it so hard to belief there could be someone insane who beliefs they are vampyr?”

Stuart sighed quietly.  What was he going to do, Astrid was absolutely convinced, but it was simply impossible to believe!

“I don’t know, Astrid.  Maybe.  But the thought of calling someone a vampire…..well, it’s just a bit off, you know, even if th’ person’s crazy, there’s just too much myth associated with the word ‘vampire.’  I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree on this, love.  But I don’t want you upset about it, though, maybe we can just keep a close eye on George an’ tell him that the bird’s bad news.  If you feel so strongly that she’s dangerous, well, I trust your judgement, love.  But I’ve gotta draw th’ line at talk of her being a vampire.  D’ya understand?”

Astrid nodded and drew in a sharp breath.  “As long as you belief me vhen I say she’s dangerous, that is most important.  Ve need to protect our George, ja?  And the others, of course!”

“Ja,” Stuart smiled in reply.  “We’ll go see them this weekend, John’s asked me to go on stage with ‘em.  We’ll talk to all of ‘em then, okay?  We just gotta keep th’ talk about vampires under wraps.  Trust me on this, they’ll believe even less than I believe.  But we’ll talk to them, I promise.”

Astrid beamed at him, and Stu thought once again how incredibly lucky he was to have found such a beautiful, intelligent and talented woman.  Teasing again, he continued, “Now, the only thing that vorries me is whether you’ve got a crush on our George, because he’s sure got one on you!”

He loved to hear her laugh, and he took her in his arms to kiss the smile on her lips.

* * * * *

Friday night had been a gas, Stu thought late in the evening, or was it early in the morning, he wondered blearily?  Well, whichever, it had been a real party, and he’d enjoyed being up on stage with his friends after an hiatus of nearly a year.

Trying to convince four drunken men about a dangerous dark-haired woman seemed out of the question, so the talk was put off until the next evening.  The following evening was as much a party as Friday night, so it was put off again.  Over dinner on Sunday, with some of Mutter Kirchherr’s good roast chicken and rich German potato salad piled high on each plate, the subject was finally broached.  George appeared to be listening intently, Stu noted, or perhaps he was just taking advantage of the opportunity to stare at Astrid openly.  Stu laughed to himself, amused at his girl’s teasing sense of humour; it was a good thing he didn’t have any doubts about Astrid’s love, because she’d spent nearly the entire weekend subtly flirting with George, apparently delighting in her ability to make the lad blush. 

“So what’s this dangerous bird’s name?” John asked, taking a bite from his full plate.

“I don’t know,” Astrid replied.  “But I just vanted to varn you about her, she’s a very bad voman, and you could get in big trouble being around her.”

Stu smiled at her, grateful that she was being discreet about it.  God, John and the rest would be rolling on the floor with laughter if they suspected anything of what Astrid had mentioned to him the previous week!  The subject was dropped, dinner was enjoyed and the lads left for work shortly thereafter, one week under their belt, only twelve more to go!

* * * * *

The weeks had absolutely flown by, George thought in disgruntled astonishment at the end of May, and he was nowhere closer to his goal of having sex than when he’d arrived in Hamburg back at the end of March.  The language barrier had presented more of a difficulty than he’d imagined it would, and the one time he’d gotten close, well, Paul had been in the room with a bird and George hadn’t felt right about walking in on that!  He was increasingly frustrated and irritated, with no outlet for the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world.  It was never off his mind, not even in his dreams, he thought, more’s the pity!  He fell asleep thinking about it, he woke up thinking about it, he played on stage thinking about it, it was in his thoughts eating or working or washing or walking along the river!

But maybe tonight his prospects were looking up, he thought breathlessly, trying to pay close attention to his playing and not appear as if he was watching the posh bird in the audience, but it was difficult!  She’d been by a few times this week, always with a different fellow, but she was alone tonight and she seemed to be watching him with a little half smile.  God, she was a looker, a real dark-haired beauty!  He smiled shyly at her as the song ended and his heart skipped a beat as she smiled back at him, a full, radiant smile on those red lips.  What if she didn’t speak English, oh, shit, that would be his luck, wouldn’t it just?  When the band went on break, he wiped down his guitar carefully, setting it in the stand, stalling and sweating with nerves, trying to work up his courage to go talk with her. 

“Hello.  Can I buy you a drink?  I’d like to get to know you a little better.”

Oh, God!  George peeked from under his eyelashes; it was her, she’d come up to the stage!  He glanced around, he was the only one still on stage, and he gulped nervously; she must want to talk with him.  Well, her English was fantastic, although she had a little bit of an accent; her speaking voice nearly made him weak at the knees, she sounded so sexy!  He swallowed again, and tried to smile.

“H…hi,  I’m George,” he said breathlessly.  He stepped off the stage to join her.

* * * * *

Oh, God, this was ecstasy.  Agony and ecstasy, all at once, all wrapped into a single package, her body underneath him so welcoming and warm and wet.  Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God…..

She gave him a love bite on his neck at the height of his climax, and George thought the bird might draw blood, she was so fierce, but he didn’t care, he must be doing it right, making her enjoy it as much as he was.  Oh, God, oh, God…..

Shuddering at the intensity of it, breathing in gasps, he collapsed onto her and listened to the applause from his mates in the other beds.  Nice of them to have waited until he was done, he thought vaguely; they must have been pretending to be asleep when he’d brought the posh bird into the room.  He wondered if maybe he hadn’t been very successful in keeping his virgin status a secret.  But he didn’t have to worry about it any more, he realized exultantly, because he wasn’t a virgin any longer, and he’d got to pull the prettiest bird in the entire club tonight!  He raised up on his elbows and tried to kiss the dark-haired beauty, but she moved her face away.

“George, let me out, please,” she purred, “I have to leave, it’s nearly morning.”

“Yeah?  I thought we were jus’ getting started, love,” he breathed, instantly aroused by the sound of her voice, a low breathless whisper that threatened to turn him inside out with desire.  He tried to kiss her again.

“Stop it, George, let me out,” she repeated, and there was a steely determination to her tone.  “I can’t take any more, believe me.”

He laughed breathlessly, wondering a little at how weary he felt, how his breath caught in his throat and the way his heart hammered long past when he’d thought it would calm down. 

“Glad ya enjoyed it, love,” he whispered in reply, hoping for a chance to drive her wild again.  He thought he could go for another round, he wasn’t that tired!  He pressed his lips against hers, they were so soft and full, luscious red and so inviting…..

She pushed him off her with no effort at all, and he reflected that she was a lot stronger than she looked!  George watched as she sat up on his bed, her shorter height allowing her to avoid hitting the ceiling like he always did; he’d nearly knocked himself out a time or two by sitting up too fast!  He watched appreciatively as she pulled her dress over her head and wiggled into it, her movements giving him the shivers and ensuring he could go another round with her.  He couldn’t resist the temptation she presented and he reached for her, pulling her into his arms.

He found himself flat on the bed, unable to move, with the bird holding him there with a negligent hand on his chest.

“I said no more, not right now,” she breathed, leaning close to his face, her lips almost caressing his.

Her eyes were so deep, George thought in agony, he thought he could just fall into them and drown.  He wanted some more of her, right now, but he just couldn’t move.  Jesus, the bird was incredibly strong.  She leaned closer and whispered in his ear.

“There will be another time, my boy, you’re very tasty and hard to resist.  But I can’t take any more right now, it’s…..dangerous, I’ve already had more than I should.  But I’ll be back.  The delay will make it…..sweeter.”

She slipped out of his bed and was out the door before he could even sit up or question her.  Shit, George thought in confusion, wanting to follow her, but suddenly too tired to even climb out of his bed.  But her comment about not being able to take any more, well, he had to feel a little cocky about that, he’d really given it to her, hadn’t he?  He was just too much for the bird!  Feeling lightheaded, he lay back and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

George was so groggy when he awoke that he wasn’t even sure what day it was.  Did sex always affect a person this way, he wondered fuzzily?  He looked over at the person shaking him and blinked owlishly.  He thought it was John, but he wasn’t absolutely sure, he couldn’t seem to focus his eyes very well.

“Uhhhh….. I’m awake, I’m awake, what d’ya want?  Quit shakin’ me,” he whispered.

“C’mon, junior, if we don’t hurry, we won’t get any brekkie, so get yer arse in gear an’ get outta bed!  We’re goin’ fer pancakes over at Chung-ou’s, shake a leg!”

Yeah, it was John.  George burrowed further under the thin covers.  “Not hungry,” he moaned.  Deathly thirsty, and suffering from a roaring headache, yes.  But hungry?  No, not in the slightest.  The very thought of a plate of pancakes and syrup at the cheap Chinese restaurant a few streets over made him sick.

“Hung over, eh?” John asked without a trace of sympathy in his tone.

Let him believe what he wanted, George thought, but he wasn’t gonna get up right now.  He barely stayed awake through the sounds of his mates dressing, then slid back into his dreams once the door closed behind them.

Who the bloody hell was shaking him now?  Jesus Christ, he just wanted to sleep!  George growled an oath and tried to sit up, but he just felt too weak to move.  Opening his eyes, he focused on the face nearly level with his.  Oh, God, it was the girl, the dark-haired beauty!

The immediate, raging desire he felt blotted out all thoughts of how tired he was and how weak he felt.  He reached for her, but she playfully slapped his shaking hands aside.

“Get up, my young lover, you must come with me.”

George found himself crawling down off the bunk bed and struggling into his clothes, pausing only long enough to have a pee and then drink several glasses of water.  He didn’t even bother asking the bird where they were going, he just followed her blindly as she led the way out of the room, down the back stairs, and out onto the street.  It was already dark, he realized in surprise, had he slept the whole day away?  For the entire time in Hamburg, he’d usually been awake by mid-afternoon at the latest, he must have been totally knackered. 

Feeling as if he had a fog living inside his head, George followed the girl down the street past the Pauli Theatre and the police station, down onto Zirkleisweg Road and finally into the Kempinski Hotel.  It was a pretty fancy hotel and he felt a bit uneasy with the looks he was getting from people in the big lobby that was packed full of paintings and beautiful rugs, posh with its marble floors and a chandelier lighting the entire lobby.  The man operating the lift sniffed audibly when George got on, but lowered his eyes respectfully when the bird looked at him sharply.

When the girl opened the door to the room, George walked through the double doors and stared.  The suite was incredible, there was probably more room in the common area than in his parents’ home back in Liverpool.  The bird led him to the ensuite, and that room was twice the size of his bedroom back home.  Hell, it was nearly three times the size of the room he was staying in above the Top Ten, and he’d been sharing that with John and Paul and Pete for the past two months! 

He stood like a rag doll when the bird ran a tub of hot water and then started undressing him; he was suddenly and unexpectedly exhausted again.  He let her help him into the tub and sank down into the lightly scented water, closing his eyes and wondering at his extreme weariness.  What was wrong with him?  Was he coming down with something?  He lay lethargically in the water, letting the bird wash him and fill the tub again with clean water, then he lay quietly as she left the room.  He thought maybe he’d dozed off, but when he smelled food, he started to rouse, suddenly ravenous.  Where had the bird disappeared to?

He dragged himself from the tub and dried off, shrugging into a terrycloth bathrobe that had been hanging on the back of the door, then exited the ensuite.  The bird looked up from arranging a table, and the smells issuing from the covered dishes set his mouth to watering.

“Somethin’ smells good, I’m starvin’,” he announced as he took the girl in his arms and kissed her.  She allowed it and then pointed to the chair.  George realized that the table was only set for one.  “Aren’t ya gonna have anything ta eat?” he asked, perplexed.

She smiled, just a little bit.  “I’ll have something…..later.  You need to eat now, to keep up your strength.  Sit down.”

George felt warm from what she’d said about keeping his strength up, maybe she had plans for later in the evening?  Oh, shit, evening?  He suddenly wondered about the time.  He tried to push it from his mind, but he couldn’t.

“Errr, listen, love, I’ve gotta be ta work shortly, the lads are gonna be missing me.”

“I’ll take you back in time, but you need to eat now.”

He shrugged and sat down.  Uncovering one dish, he saw a steak nearly the size of a whole cow, and his mouth began watering.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had beef on the bone; this looked fantastic and smelled even better!  He swiftly cut into it with knife and fork.  Bloody hell, with the emphasis on bloody, it was nearly raw, just seared on both sides, so he made a face and tried to put the cover back on the dish, but the girl stopped him.

“No, it’s good for you, eat it.”

Not likely, he thought, he liked his beef well done!  Or at least with the ‘moo’ taken out of it!  He started to say something, but she just looked at him, and the next moment George was surprised to find himself eating the steak and enjoying it.  It was as if he had no will of his own, the bird said ‘eat,’ and he ate.  He finished the steak and moved on to the next dish, a big green leafy salad with salad cream, and he ate it all.  She allowed him a single glass of a fine dark red wine, and he gulped it eagerly, quickly becoming lightheaded; it must have a damned high alcohol content, he thought fuzzily.  He tried to pour her a glass, but she merely smiled and refused the drink.  He listened absentmindedly as the girl talked, not really paying attention, just barely registering the words as he continued eating, enjoying the potato in its jacket and packed with butter, the tender peas, and the rich cherry strudel with cream.

“I made a mistake with that Rory fellow last year, I overdid it too quickly.  I don’t want to make the same mistake again, even though I took a bit much last night.  You’re very delectable, George, a very tasty morsel, and I want this to last a bit before the dénouement.  Sometimes it’s hard to hold back, but I’ll try; it will be that much sweeter in the end if I can restrain myself now.  You’ll enjoy that, won’t you, pet?  I know I will.”

George had no idea what the bird was on about, but he was surprised to find that he’d eaten nearly everything on the table.  He sat back in the chair and patted his stomach.

“I’ve had it, love.  Ta fer dinner, I was pretty hungry.  What’s yer name anyway?  Ya never did tell me last night.”

“Call me Antanasia.”

He tried it out inside his head, Ahn-tun-ay-zha.  Not very easy to shorten, but she didn’t look like a Liddypool shortened name would suit her anyway.  Ann just didn’t seem to fit the bird, she was all class, this one.  And all his, too.

“It’s a beautiful name, love,” he breathed.

“It’s Romanian,” she told him with a smile.

“Izzat whur yer from?”

“Oh, near enough.  My homeland has changed ownership many times, but it wasn’t always called by that name.”

She was the prettiest bird he’d ever seen, George thought.  And the sweetest, too, bringing him home like this and letting him relax in this beautiful suite, taking care of him and feeding him when he hadn’t had a decent meal in days, when he felt as if he was coming down with some kind of illness.  She was simply fantastic, a gear chick.  And all his, he exulted!  He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her greedily, the desire back in full force.  She submitted for a little bit, but then pulled away with a frown.

“We have to get you back to the club, George.  Besides, this is a little too soon, I have to be careful.”

He wondered what she had to be careful about.  Maybe it was some female thing.  But she’d been so sweet to him, he’d wanted to repay her for her loving care.

“Are ya sure….?” he asked, wishing he felt confident enough to press the issue.

She nodded gravely and stood up.  “Yes, it could be very dangerous, my love.  I want you so much right now, it’s very hard to resist.”

Oh, God, she’d called him ‘my love!’  He didn’t really understand what she meant about it being dangerous, but then, he hadn’t understood much of what she’d said this evening.  He didn’t really care, though, he just wanted to be around her, feast his eyes on her, touch her, kiss her, love her.  ‘My love,’ Jesus, that sounded sweet!  And then there was the rest of what she’d said, oh God, it was almost embarrassing, he’d never heard of a bird saying she wanted it!  This was fantastic!  She was fantastic!

George let her take his hand and pull him to his feet.  She was strong, he thought in surprise, then frowned.  Hadn’t she surprised him with her strength before?  He couldn’t quite remember, it seemed as if the fog was still living inside his head.  He must be coming down with some kind of illness; he coughed experimentally, but his throat didn’t feel sore or anything.  Maybe it wasn’t a head cold, but it was something, he’d never felt like this before. Once he was dressed, he followed the bird back to the lift, through the lobby and then through the streets.  As they approached the Reeperbahn, those same streets became crowded with sailors and prostitutes, cutthroats and vagabonds.  Home sweet home, he thought with sudden distaste, thinking longingly of the pristine suite. 

As they crossed a dark alleyway, a thug came at them with a knife, and George stepped in front of the bird to protect her, his senses alert for the first time that day.  His heart was beating rapidly, and his pulse seemed somehow thready with fear as he scowled at the man, trying to back up and stay out of the reach of the ugly long knife.

“George, oh, my lovely young man, you tempt me so much, with your foolhardy bravery, your strong emotions, your desire.  Let me handle this,” he heard Antanasia whisper, then watched, aghast as she walked around him and approached the man casually.

George watched, frozen where he was standing, as the girl put a hand on the man’s chest and pushed him back into the alleyway, back into the darkness.  He heard the man’s knife clatter to the ground, heard a moan and a soft sound of something falling to the earth, and he still couldn’t move, could hardly breathe, as if he was a block of granite.  Before he could lose himself in a panic, the girl was back, her eyes shining, her features flushed, a beautiful smile on her red lips.  George was finally able to move, the paralysis leaving him as abruptly as it had come, and he grabbed her and hurried down the street, looking back in trepidation, but no one came out of the alley to follow them.

“Don’t scare me like that, gurl!  You coulda been hurt!” he said roughly.  He was having a difficult time breathing, his heart was pounding and his vision blurred distressingly, Jesus, the girl could have been killed, and he was just getting to know her!  He thought he was already falling in love with her, she was so sweet and kind, and such an incredible lover.

“Don’t worry,” she replied soothingly as they walked, “he was a little man, with a little mind, he couldn’t harm me in any way.  But you must take care, my young lover, I couldn’t stand to lose you to something like a wayward knife, not now, not when we’ve only just started our affair.  Here, we’ve arrived and your friends are looking for you.”

An affair, she’d said, how incredible, he was having an affair.  And she’d called him ‘my love’ back at the hotel.  George almost felt like laughing from sheer joy, she was fantastic!

“Will…..will I see ya later?” he asked breathlessly, a catch in his side from the swift walk.

She came into his arms and nuzzled his neck, he could feel her lips barely touching him, the tips of her teeth pressing lightly against his skin, his pulse leaping in his carotid artery from the light pressure she exerted.  George moaned incoherently when she abruptly pushed him away; he reached for her with grasping hands, but was unable to hold her as she stepped away with a laugh.

“You’re far too tempting, George, but if I give in, it will be over too soon.  I don’t think I dare come back tonight; I wouldn’t be able to hold back.  Goodbye, my love.  Oh, and George?  Don’t drink anything more tonight, and don’t take any of the drugs.  Understand me, it’s important, you’ll feel worse tomorrow if you don’t take my advice.”

She turned and walked away, and it took all George’s strength to keep from following her.  She’d called him ‘my love’ again, Jesus, he loved hearing her say that!  He watched her departing figure for several moments, and then she seemed to fade away into the fog that was rapidly encroaching.  He wanted to run after her, but he knew his mates were waiting, and he sagged against the door to the club in sudden exhaustion.  He sighed and pulled the door open, nearly falling into John and Paul’s arms.

“Georgie, where th’ bloody hell have ya been, man?  We’ve been worried ‘bout ya, we’re almost ready ta go on!”

George muttered something halfway coherent, not even sure who was questioning him, and he stumbled into the club, somehow got up on stage and picked up his guitar.  It seemed incredibly heavy, and he dragged a chair up on stage, playing the night out whilst seated, wishing he had the money for a decent guitar, his fingers were nearly bleeding from playing this cheap piece of shit!  Keeping his mind on his aching fingers allowed him to hold his weariness at bay, and thinking about his dual fantasies, Antanasia and a Gretsch guitar, kept him going for the rest of the night.  He tried hard to ignore the concerned looks from his mates, but by the time the evening was over, he was no longer simply tired, he was bloody exhausted.  He staggered upstairs and crawled into bed fully clothed; he was asleep the moment his head landed on the pillow.

* * * * *

What was up with Georgie, Paul wondered?  He’d looked like a ghost tonight, he’d been spending too much time indoors, he was so pale.  Well, they’d all been spending too much time indoors during the past two months, but the poor lad must be coming down with something, he thought.  Paul realized he’d never seen his mate have to sit whilst playing, George was usually the one bouncing back and forth throughout the entire long night.  And on top of that, he hadn’t so much as touched a lager tonight, nor taken any of the prellies.  He must be off his feed or something.  He’d left the stage after the last set and headed up to their room, and he hadn’t been seen since.  What was going on with that?  Georgie was the night owl, he’d been the last one in the clubs many a night on their first trip to Hamburg.

Still concerned, Paul finished his drink and left the bar, climbing the stairs to their room, opening the door quietly.  He heard no sounds, not even a snore; George must just be totally knackered.  Stepping into the room, he saw that a dark-haired bird had crawled into George’s bunk and was leaning over the sleeping boy; she looked up from kissing him when Paul stepped into the room before looking back at George with a hungry expression.  His mate must have given the bird a good ride last night, Paul thought with amusement as he recognized her, she must want more!

“Georgie seemed pretty knackered tonight, love, I think yer outta luck,” he whispered.  He didn’t really know why he was whispering, George slept like the dead.

The woman turned to look at him, her eyes dark and luminous in the dim light of the single bulb, her lips almost appearing crimson.  He watched as she licked her lips delicately, shivering at the erotic appeal she presented.

“I’m glad you’re here, Paul.  I shouldn’t have come here tonight, but he’s such a tasty morsel, you know, it’s very hard to hold back,” she remarked conversationally.

Oh, she really did want it, didn’t she?  “Maybe I can help,” he said with a sly smile and growing confidence.  He wondered how she’d known his name?  Oh, prob’ly from introductions on stage, he’d seen her in the audience a few times this week.

She had a beautiful laugh.  “I was hoping you might offer…..”

Paul thought he’d never seen a more beautiful band groupie in his life.  And the sex was fantastic!  Lucky George, getting to try this out on his first go!  Oh, God, it was incredible, she was so hot and ready for him.

“Mmmmm, I think you stopped me from taking too much from young George,” she whispered.  “He might be all right, and if not, it doesn’t really matter, does it?  It’s difficult to hold back sometimes.”

“What?” Paul asked breathlessly, hardly able to pause his actions.

“Nothing, don’t worry, oh, yes, that’s perfect…..”

Paul stopped worrying about it and just went with his instincts.  He never felt her climax, and she didn’t want him touching her to bring her off, but she seemed to enjoy it in spite of that, he thought breathlessly when he was done, touching the tender spot on his neck where she’d bit him at the height of his reaction.  He almost had to laugh about it, she was a passionate one for sure, but he wasn’t certain he liked it all that much, it had kind of annoyed and distracted him.  He rolled off the girl, suddenly tired.

“Not really my first choice,” she murmured as she sat up.

Shocked out of his lethargy, Paul sat up beside her, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.  “I’ve never had complaints before,” he said angrily, stiff with sudden tension.

She laughed and said soothingly, “No, you don’t understand, Paul.  I have no complaints about the lovemaking, it was adequate.  Tell me, what did you have for dinner tonight?”

“Errrr, chicken an’ rice, two deutchmarks over at Chung-ou’s.”  Adequate?  Dinner?  What was the bird on about?  Well, at least she said she wasn’t complaining, he’d thought she’d enjoyed it!

“Ah, that explains it.”

“Explains what?” he asked, puzzled and curious.

“They use garlic in Chinese cooking.  I don’t like it.”

“Oh, sorry, love, I’ll go brush me teeth.” 

His breath must smell of garlic, Paul thought unhappily, ever conscious of his appearance and body odor.  He heard the door open with the arrival of Pete or John into their room.  Both, he realized, as he heard their voices talking in whispers, heard them drop their clothes and crawl into their beds.

“No, it’s all right, I’m done anyway,” the girl replied.

“Oh?  Thought we might have another go, Georgie won’t wake up, he’s dead to the world, an’ th’ other lads don’t care.”

“No, that was plenty.  I’ll have to keep you in reserve, if you’ll stay away from the garlic.”

She was dressed and out the door before he could stop her or ask her what she meant, and Paul was surprised at how exhausted the lovemaking had made him.  He fell back onto the mattress and pulled the covers up to his chin.  Maybe he was coming down with the same thing Georgie had?

Go To Part Two!