Quiet was what he needed, peace and quiet and not another soul telling him how sorry they were.

Paul put a foot up on the porch railing and watched the horses lumber in the corral.  The air still smelled of winter despite May only days away.  Martha the fourth sighed and stretched out under his chair and he knew he would have to watch before he got up.

Blowing into the mug in his left hand he took a long drink of tea and tried to make his mind go blank.  He made a mental note to ring the kids later, he knew they would worry and rightly so.  He had not been himself but what the hell did anyone expect?  No one can prepare to lose a partner in life, no matter how long you knew it was coming.  His eyes squeezed shut and her face flashed before him.  Not the tired woman who finally lost her fight, the beautiful young girl with her strawberry blond hair ruffled in the breeze as they rode across the highlands.  This was the image he would hold to.

The cold began to seep through his heavy sweater and urging the dog to move he stood, stretched and headed inside the farm house.  He looked about for the book he had started the evening before.

Walking into the bedroom he laid his watch on a dresser his eyes drifting to a locked wooden box and he ran a hand over it. It has been years since he looked inside, little treasurers from a life a long time ago.  He locked it not long after he married and between music, traveling, Lin and the kids never found the need to open it.

Gathering it in his arms he carried it out to the fire and sat in an overstuffed chair near by.  His mind wandered his hand resting against the wood as he tried to remember where the key was.

Pulling a ring of keys from his pocket he went through several and finally found the small rounded key at the end.  Was this Pandora’s Box, he thought with a small smile?

Pushing the lid open he noticed money from different places around the world.  Letters and postcards from friends and family caught his eye and he thumbed through them with fond remembrance.

Several photographs were underneath, the lads, the first Martha, Jane all bringing a warmth to his heart.  He had quite a life.  The last picture made his heart clutch and he set everything else down.

He could almost hear the music, feel the beat of the flat as he entered, the first time he saw her.  He ran a finger along her jaw line and felt a slight tingle thinking about the nights his mouth feasted in just that spot.

The dark, dark hair cascading down her back, straight and thick, bangs resting on her brows, eyes so blue you could get lost in them.  They only had six weeks, six intense, wild weeks but it felt like yesterday.

Martha yawned and flopped on the floor and Paul absently ran his socked foot over her coat.  The warmth of the fire made him coast back in time, back to when he was a young lad and had London by the tail.

John Dunbar always had a party going didn’t matter what day of the week it was.  Paul was at home feeling restless, his girl out on the road, and his mates with their wives.  He purchased a six pack of beer and headed to John’s knowing he would find companionship and mostly an eager partner for the night.

The pounding of music drifted to the street and Paul smiled as he made his way inside, passing a few people already moving to another venue.  The flat door was open and he breezed through nodding and greeting several folks, most he didn’t even know their name but, of course, they knew his.  Being a fourth of the most popular band in the world opened a lot of opportunities and he took as much as he could get, damn the consequences.

Depositing the beer in John’s fridge Paul stood in the kitchen doorway his eyes scanning the room for someone he knew or a likely prospect.  He spied a comely blond; he liked blonds, in the corner with several other people.  Her eyes popped up, a shy smile curving her luscious mouth.  Yes, this was a definite possibility.

“Paul welcome mate!” John slapped his hand and they exchanged a few words.  Paul continued toward his goal and stopped just short of one bloke sitting on the floor telling a story with his hands.  The blond focused her green eyes on him and the rest of the group turned and he was welcomed into the fold.

They asked him questions about music and upcoming gigs and he lifted a bottle to his mouth and glanced to the opened door he just came through.  The cool beer seemed to slow down as it trickled down his throat.  A girl walked through with a tall bloke, his arm resting comfortably around her small waist.  She was listening to him with a sweet smile, her eyes focused directly on his face.

Paul had never seen a girl with such charisma.  She was beautiful but not in a classic way.  Her eyes were big and expressive, blue as the arctic sea, her hair long and stick straight.  Her mouth was full and his watered at the thought of it under his.  She had long, incredible legs and an ample bosom encased in a short black dress that showed her figure off becomingly.

Paul noticed Dunbar come from the throng of people and embrace her like a long lost friend.  He would need to find out who this girl was.  Glancing at the receptive blond he smiled but stood and slowly walked away not seeing the huge disappointment on her face.

Paul chucked the bottle in the trash and reached for another.  Someone handed him a joint and he took a long drag, thanked them and handed it back.  He placed a hand on Dunbar’s shoulder.

“Need something mate?”

“The girl you just hugged, who is she?” Paul asked quietly searching the crowd for his prey.

John grinned at him, “Boy Macca you don’t miss a trick do you?  I’ve known Ivonne for several years but she may be more then you can handle.  Definitely a free spirit, not one for your macho northern ways.”

“Are you challenging me John?” Paul asked with a grin.  “If so, I accept.”

Paul wound through the crowd barely hearing the people acknowledging him until he made his way into a back room and found her sitting on a cushion on the floor.  Her dress was so far up he swore he could see her knickers if she had any on.  His jeans became a little tighter.

The bloke she arrived with pushed through and handed her a glass of wine.  She raised her face and he kissed her softly.  This could be a problem swept his brain but he felt up for it.

With a purpose he moved toward her group and stood only a few feet away listening to one of the girls explaining a problem with her boyfriend.  The object of his attention set her glass on the floor and turned to her friend.

“If Ian doesn’t treat you right, you should dump the lad.  Boys are not worth that kind of grief.” She said with a light laugh, her voice low and husky.  She reached for the wine and as she raised the glass her eyes rested on Paul.  His heart skipped a beat.  “Well, well if it isn’t Beatle Paul.  I’ve heard you frequent John’s parties but I’ve never had the pleasure.”

“How is it you stole my line?’ Paul said smoothly as the girls surrounding her giggled and batted their eyes.

“Why would you steal something as daft as that?  I am disappointed, thought you would come up with something rather brilliant.” She sipped at the wine and let the bloke who came with her sit close, pressing his hip close to hers.  He eyed Paul with distain.

“If I’m off my game, it must be the beer.” Paul mumbled as one of the girls reached up a hand for him to sit with them.  “No I’ve got other people to see.”

“Don’t hurry off on my account.” Ivonne said with a shrug, “Danny and I aren’t staying long.”

“Not my party you can stay or go as you please.” Paul huffed and moved away pissed she did not fall for his charms but mostly that she made him feel so ridiculous.  Maybe the blond was a better choice after all.

He took another hit and slumped on a sofa watching several couples up and dancing, if you call hanging on to one another making out dancing.  Paul put the joint back to his lips and realized a pair of incredible legs was heading in his direction.  He looked up to Ivonne.  She held out her hand.

“Want to dance?” she purred and despite his initial reaction to refuse he took hold and stood up.  She elbowed her way into the crowd and turned waiting for his arms to hold her.  Paul met her gaze and took her hand before sliding an arm around her waist.  They began to move slowly the warmth from her body weaving into his, the light floral of perfume wafting into his nostrils.  He found it difficult to move from the enormous hard on pressing in his jeans.

“I’m sorry if I were rude earlier.  I didn’t mean to insult you.” She lifted her eyes and Paul was shocked at the flecks of gold amongst the blue. 

“You weren’t rude.” Paul breathed feeling her take his hand around her middle and tug it tighter.

“I thought I was and I wanted to make it up to you.  You are a nice dancer.” She smiled her leg dipping between his rubbing lightly.  Paul thought he might explode.

“I hate to tell you but the bloke you came with is not happy at all.” He said feeling the sting of his eyes on them.  Ivonne tossed her hair and it tumbled over Paul’s hands.  He caught a few strands between his fingers.

“He hates it when I say thank you to the boy at the green grocer.  I hate jealousy, such a waste of time.”

“If I were your boyfriend, I think I would be jealous of your attention to other lads.” Paul said hoarsely feeling the immense pain in his loins.

“Then you would waste your time.  If I find someone who interests me, I enjoy spending time with them and no one, not a single soul, can tell me differently.”

“I would convince you.” He placed his hand behind her head and drew it to the hollow of his throat.  She melded against his body, her arms moving to encircle his neck. 

The music jumped to a fast number and Paul muttered under his breath.  He leaned down to her.

“Come out on the balcony with me.”

Ivonne glanced around and noticed Danny was talking with several friends and she nodded and let him lead her outside.  The cool air felt lovely and she turned to look at Paul but he wrenched her into his arms, her mouth demolished with a powerful kiss.  She could feel his need for her and slowly ran a hand across the front of his jeans.  Paul moaned on top of her lips.

“That has to be uncomfortable.” She said softly and he drew his head back a little.  His huge hazel eyes were dark with want.

“Aye it is.” He cupped her cheek circling her lips with his, his tongue on fire with desire.

“Then come here.” She backed away in a corner of the balcony completely hidden from the huge French doors.  Paul followed mesmerized by her mouth, her eyes, and her body.  She bit at his bottom lip and opened her mouth to accept another deep, passionate kiss.  Paul could not remember the last time he was this turned on.  Pulling birds had almost lost its joy, the thrill of the chase all but gone.  But this girl was pushing him into overdrive, he had not wanted a girl this badly in years.

Ivonne reached for his hand and drew it to her thigh.  His fingers began to wander and as he suspected she was not wearing knickers.  He dipped inside the muff of hair and groaned at how wet she was.  He slid a finger inside, then two as she continued to rub his zipper.  Finally her fingers drew it down and reached inside, lightly stroking as she drew it out.

“Are you sure about this?” Paul asked and shook his head that it even crossed his emblazed mind.  She encircled his neck and hiked up so he could slide inside.  She was on fire and Paul worried he would not be able to hold back.  He placed his hands on her bottom and scooted her up so her legs wound around his waist and he began to slide in and out, Ivonne breathing heatedly in his ear, nibbling on his neck, kissing his mouth.

With a shudder Paul came with such a force they almost fell over.  Ivonne stayed with him and slowly he allowed her feet back on to the balcony.  He held her tightly until their breathing returned to normal.  Ivonne took in a pocket of air and finally looked into his face.

“I haven’t felt that way in the longest time.  Why is that?”

Paul combed his fingers through her hair not wanting to let her go, “I wish I understood.  Come home with me tonight please.”

She moved back and straightened her dress a little, “I can’t.  I did come with someone.”

Paul frowned and took her shoulders, “But does he make you feel the way we just did?”

She smiled and shook her head, “No, not at all but I can’t just leave him here.”

“But you can come outside and fuck a total stranger and that’s okay?”

Ivonne’s eyes darkened and she slapped him, “How dare you cheapen what we just felt.  I thought you were different.” And she stormed passed him and back to the party.

Paul lit a ciggie and tried to calm himself down.  He could not believe what he felt for this bird and how he drove her away.  Crushing out the stub he hurried inside to speak with her.

Looking all around the room he realized she and the guy were gone.  He sagged on a sofa and accepted a joint.

Martha was having a dream, whining and kicking in her sleep and Paul bent down to rouse her and ease her distress.  The photo of Ivonne was on the floor and he retrieved it feeling the same sadness he did that night.  He was sure he would never see her again.  How wrong could he be?

Three days later Paul arrived at his favorite club and promptly ordered a scotch and coke.  The band was good pumping out hot tunes; the usual crowd hovered around small round tables.

He sipped his drink and noticed a group of four girls and made a mental note to stop by the table later.  He glanced at the barkeep and got a refill before glancing at the sloping stairs and a pair of black boots encasing long, luscious legs.

Paul choked on an ice cube as he comprehended Ivonne on the arm of an older bloke hanging on each and every word he uttered.  She laughed lightly and tossed that mane of hair.  Paul felt his heart tumble in his chest.

The short, tight dress she was wearing was almost the same color as her eyes, the black boots up to her knees.  They sat at a table in the back and the man snapped his fingers at the waitress who walked over a little perturbed.  She nodded and went to the bar for their order.

Paul wanted to pull his eyes away but was unable.  He watched her ask him a question then leaned forward a little, her chin in the palm of her hand as she paid complete attention.  He wanted her to look at him that way.

Her escort stood and weaved his way towards the loo.  Paul set his glass down and made a bee line to the table.  If she was surprised, nothing registered on her face.

“Hello again.” She said softly and Paul felt a bit weak.  He hated she had this affect on him.

“I needed to apologize for the other night; I was a daft prick.”

“I think that sums it up perfectly.” Her dark lashes swept down to her cheek.  “I didn’t realize you frequent here.”

“Or me you.  I need to see you again, please.” He glanced over his shoulder to see if her date was returning.  “Is he your steady fella?”

“I don’t have a steady fella; I go out with who I want when I want.  I like keeping it that way.  What did you have in mind?”

“I want to see you, talk with you, get to know you.”

“Ah that is never on my agenda.  Love them and leave them, that is about as deep as I get.” She said with a light laugh.

Paul’s eyes blazed, “Please see me tonight.”

Ivonne nibbled on the end of her pink painted thumb nail, “I suppose I could develop a headache.”

“I will be out front in my Jag.” He grinned and hurried away just as the older gent returned to the table.  Paul stood by the bar and watched her back away, look a little sad then lean close to his ear and whisper to him.  It was done and he paid his tab and rushed out front.

The car was already warm before she emerged from the club wrapped in a black cape.  She stepped into the passenger side and Paul sped away into the damp, London night.

Nothing was said, the radio on low, the engine purring efficiently.  Finally she broke the silence.

“Where are we going?” her fingers traced his sitting on the gear shift knob.

“My home in St. John’s Wood.” He slated a look, “Is that all right?”

“For now.” She said gently and laid her head back against the seat.

Paul drove into the courtyard, turned off the car and walked around to help her out.  She extended her hand and he hauled into a tight embrace.  Her lips were painted with pink lipstick and parted slightly as he lowered his head and covered them, her warm breathe mingling with his.  His hand moved to her side and cupped her breast, the thumb skimming over the nipple.  She was not wearing a bra and he was amazed at how firm and high they sat.  She backed away raising thick, dark lashes up, her blue eyes alive with desire.

“You move rather quickly.” She stated moving so her breast pressed into his adventurous hand.

“I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.  If I can’t have you again, I might go insane.”

“Now that is a line worth waiting for.” She giggled accepting another long, deep kiss.  “Maybe we need to go inside?”

Paul unlocked his door and Martha charged out, stopped short and gazed up at his companion.  Ivonne bent down and fluffed her hair.

“You are a pretty girl.”

The dog continued on and Ivonne followed Paul into a kitchen.  He flipped on a light over the stove and drew her against him again.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked framing her face with his hands.  She shook her head.

“Maybe after.”

Paul took her hand and guided her up the stairs and into his master bedroom.  She glanced amused at the unmade bed.

“I do hope they are fairly clean sheets.”

Paul grinned as he began unbuttoning his shirt, “Clean yesterday morning and only me in them last night.”

She slapped at his hand and finished the shirt, “I suppose I can live with that.” She reached for his trousers and unsnapped them so they pooled at his feet.  Paul stepped out in socks and knickers.

Ivonne kept her eyes on his as she unzipped the dress and let it fall lazily to the floor.  As he knew, she wore no bra but did have a tiny wisp of material that covered her pussy.  He held out a hand and she latched on and let him draw her down on the bed.

Paul felt a shiver and looked over to the fireplace, the blaze settling into slow embers.  He slipped on a jacket and went to the side of the house and gathered several logs as Martha patrolled the yard and took care of business.  Paul tossed two logs on the fire and poked at it until the fire roared.  He went into the kitchen and turned on the kettle and dropped two slices of toast in to brown.

Standing with hands on the sink his mind meandered back to bringing Ivonne home the first time.  He could not believe how much he wanted this woman.  He was use to being pursued, having his pick of whatever woman he wanted and now he was the one panting after this girl, needing to see her again.

The kettle sang and Paul poured boiling water over the grounds.  Why was this short interlude in his life so poignant at the moment?  He carried the mug and plate back to the fire and picked up the wooden box.  Inside were several more photographs, three with the two together, and a dried red rose that brought a smile to his lips.  She gave him the flower.

Taking a sip of tea the heat shocked his mouth taking him back to when he finally had her on his bed, the heat of their bodies surprising even him.

His hands had to touch everywhere, stroking, caressing, and kneading.  Her skin was like silk, the natural fragrance assaulting his senses.  Her mouth was eager, taking his then trailing down his chest, her tongue circling his nipples before she sucked.  Most girls allowed him to satisfy his needs then climb on and inside.  Ivonne wanted foreplay, giving as much as she got.

Paul drew her against his hardness and she ground wantonly.  He flipped her over and nibbled on her neck and trailed tongue and kisses down to her bum and the tiny strip of material in her crack.  With a snap he tore the material away and she gasped.  Paul spun her onto her back and feasted on her pert breasts.  She was running hands through his hair, trailing down his back, squeezing his bum.

He kissed and licked her belly then brushed his face through her pubic hairs.  She moaned as he separated her legs and jabbed his tongue inside her.  She was hot and wet and shivered at each stroke.

Ivonne rolled down his briefs and Paul straddled her and dipped inside, the walls of her vagina clamping on in frenzy.  He brought her legs around him and plunged deeper and deeper and she met him stroke for stroke.  He felt her building and leaned down to suckle on her breasts and she exploded crying out clinging tightly to his upper torso.  Once he knew she was satisfied he let loose, his steaming semen rushing inside her, emptying until he felt there wasn’t another drop.  He collapsed on top of her and just held on.

They made love twice more that night, each time with the same intensity as the first.  Finally unable to move they both fell into a deep, satiated sleep.

Paul returned the items to the chest and shut the lid.  He needed to get some sleep, most nights it escaped him.  Tossing the same clothes he wore the day before on a chair he crawled into bed and punched up his pillow to try and get the right height.

He heard Martha circling and finally settling on the floor beside him.  The dim light from the hall filtered towards the dresser and skirted his treasure box.  As sleep finally crept over him, he went back to a park near his first house.

Ivonne was tossing a ball and Martha was chasing it happily.  Paul was sitting on a bench watching with a grin on his face.  She had stayed with him for a week and despite a little chaffing from none stop sex he hadn’t felt this incredible in a long time.  They hadn’t gone out or seen another living soul until today and the walk to the commons. 

Martha scampered for the ball and Ivonne shifted and flashed him a smile.  She was wearing an old pair of his jeans and a denim shirt knotted at her waist.  They were bagging and not particularly attractive but she didn’t seem to care.  She only had the dress she wore the first night and most days only slipped on one of his t-shirts.  Even in the looseness of her garments he could visualize her body and what it did for him.  He had never craved another person so passionately.  Walking over she flopped beside him and rested her head in the crook of his arm.

“I will miss this.” She said watching the dog roll the ball in the grass.  Paul stiffened and sat up pulling her with him.

“Miss what?  Where are you going?”

“Paul I do have a life; staying with you this long has been lovely but I need to step back into my own existence.”

“No, you need to stay here with me.  We get along famously in and out of bed.  I don’t want you to go.” He griped her shoulders.  She raised her stunning blue eyes to him.

“And when your girlfriend returns?  The robe in the bath, the clothes on one side of your closet?  I think she may have a problem with a third person being around.”

“I will break it off; I will tell Jane it is over.  I can’t lose you.” His thumb circled her mouth and he bent to take it roughly.  “I need you.”

“And you can have me occasionally.” She purred and he blinked in disbelief.

“That’s not what I mean God damn it.  I don’t want you to see anyone else.  None of those other blokes.” He said hotly and she reared back.

“Excuse me you have no right to make any demands on me.”

“No rights?  This past week...”

“Has been amazing but I told you when we first met I don’t belong to anyone.  I will see whom I want when I want.” She reacted to Martha pushing at her knee and picked up the ball and tossed it.

Paul fell back against the bench.  He practically begged the girl to stay with him, offered to sever his ties with Jane and she said no. 

“Ivonne luv we need to talk about this.”

Her eyes were suddenly cool and rested on him, “There is nothing to talk about.”

Paul sat up in bed his heart pounding against his rib cage; he could remember the panic he felt when they returned home and she packed up to leave.  No matter what he said she refused to listen and finally rang a taxi.  He stood on the brick steps and watched her drive off.

He got completely wasted three nights in a row.  He had no idea how to contact her or if he would see her again.  When Jane rang from Bristol, he pretended he was very ill and got off the line as quickly as possible.  He rang John Dunbar to see if he had a phone number for Ivonne but got no results.

Walking Martha on the commons Paul stood and looked up to the crescent moon and wondered what she was doing, who she was with?  The thought of her under another man made his stomach roll in revulsion.  What the hell was he going to do?

Martha charged toward him and he watched as she breezed by barking happily.  Paul turned to see Ivonne kneeling down rubbing hands all over Martha’s fur.  Finally her eyes moved up to his.

“Hey.” She said softly as he walked up to her.  “When you didn’t answer at the house, I thought I might find you here.”

“What made you think that?  I might have been out fucking some big breasted blond.” He growled snapping the leash back on his dog.  “Come on girl.”

“Are you talking to me or Martha?” Ivonne asked running a gentle hand down his back.  Paul shuddered, whirled around and crushed her against him, his mouth devouring with zeal.

“God I missed you.” He hated that those words leapt from his throat.

“Me too.” She brushed hair off his forehead.  “Are you going to take me home with you?”

Martha never was fed that night only scraps tossed from the feast they shared in bed.  Paul took strawberry jam and smeared it all over her and took his time licking it off.  He never knew he could come and within minutes be ready to go again.  She absolutely bewitched him.

Ivonne fell asleep laying on her tummy her dark hair tumbling over her bare skin.  Paul stretched out beside her, a slip of sheet over her bum and watched her sleep.  How was he going to convince her to stay?  She obviously hated to be caged in but she came back, she cared about him or she wouldn’t be here.  He had to work with that.

A chill engulfed the house and Paul got out of bed and tossed another log on the fire and let Martha out.  He glanced at the mantel clock; 2 a.m. in the morning.  Would he ever get a full night sleep again?

He shut the door and latched it and turned and staggered a bit.  Ivonne was standing by the fireplace naked, the glow of the fire flickering on her body.  She smiled at him.

“You’ve been thinking about me.” She stated rotating and holding her hands to the licking flames.  “Shame on you Paul.”

“How?” was all he could manage approaching slowly?  “You can’t be here.”

“And why is that?   Apparently I am as real as you want me to be.” She tiptoed over and laid a warm hand against his cheek and Paul gasped.  “See.”

“Ivonne.” He murmured bending almost afraid to touch her lips.  Suddenly he was on the floor beside his bed Martha wiggling to get out from underneath him.  He sat up and rubbed the lump on the side of his head.  He had been asleep?

The next few days were one in the same.  A small sign of spring came with warmer weather and the chirping of birds.  Paul took a ride, the first since Arizona Martha walking happily along side.

He curried the horse, fed them all and headed indoors to prepare a meal.  Sitting by the fire he ate and read as his tired dog snoozed at his feet.  It had been a good day, a positive day.  He took a shower and placed his watch on the dresser his eyes lingering on the wooden box.  No, no Paul old boy don’t get into that trap again.  The nightmare almost gave you a concussion. 

He tugged on his bathrobe and spun to leave when he spied a picture poking out from under his bed.  Bending he retrieved it and blanched.  It was one from the chest; one of Ivonne and Paul at Battersea Park.  His eyes pressed closed as he remembered the day.

The day in the park and an afternoon in bed Paul fell asleep watching her and when he woke she was gone with a note pinned to his pillow that only said ‘chow’.  He was furious and stripped the bed and washed the sheets.  The hell with her, she couldn’t use him this way, come in and out of his life and expect him to just wait. 

A week later he heard the buzzer and pressed the button to answer.

“It’s a lovely day out fancy a boat ride?” Ivonne asked gaily and Paul fought the urge to just ignore her.  He opened the gate and she whisked through charging up the side steps.  Paul opened the door and prepared a stern look but she tossed herself at him and kissed him passionately.  “Hi.”

He didn’t respond and her fingers played with the back of his neck, “Are you going to be grouchy?”

“I think I have a perfect right.”

“Maybe but why waste a gorgeous day?  Please play with me?” she tugged at him and despite his resolve a smile creased his lips.

“You are an exasperating woman.” He moaned and she giggled.

“That I am.  Take me someplace wonderful, surprise me!”

They drove to Battersea Park and rented a boat and went out, Paul paddling, Ivonne trailing her fingers in the water.  Once in the middle Paul pulled the paddle in and crossed his arms.

“You will tell me what your game is or we will stay here until you do.” He said defiantly.  Ivonne looked up with lazy eyes.

“If you think that’s a threat, think again.  I love it here.”

“But you would be trapped, not free to go and come as you please.”

“Ah yes but on my terms.” She smile then flicked water on him.  Paul leaned over to grab her but the boat rocked and she squealed.

“Don’t want to be dumped out huh?” he said with a gleam.

“Paul you wouldn’t?” she looked a little nervous but allowed him to pull her into his lap.  The perfume of her body drove his senses wild.  She raised her face to his.

“No, don’t start that.  I won’t be used again young lady.”

“I thought we used one another.” She traced her hand up his leg to his inner thigh.  She noticed him instantly get hard and smiled triumphantly.  “I knew you cared about me.”

“More then just that.” He spat batting her hand away.  “I want more but apparently you don’t.”

“I can’t see why we can’t just let it be what it is.  Why isn’t that enough for you Paul?”

He yanked her to him, “I don’t know.”

They found a secluded spot under trees and made love, the threat of someone seeing them only heightening the experience.   Adjusting their clothes they left the treed area and found a young boy messing with a camera.  He glanced up and did a double take. 

“Paul?” he said weakly and Paul immediately felt uncomfortable.

“Aye mate it is but let’s keep it our little secret.”

“Cool!  But can I have a picture please?”

Paul debated and glanced at Ivonne.  “Yes, but only for your eyes okay?  And there is one other thing.”

The boy walked away beaming at the Polaroid with his favorite Beatle and Paul waved the second picture at Ivonne.

“See now I have stolen your soul.”

She looked at the image of them together, “You can take what isn’t there.”

 Returning to his car Paul asked where she wanted to go.

“Just drop me at the tube.” She propped feet up on the dash.

“Come home with me.” He urged but she shook her head.

“Not tonight.”

Paul squeezed her knee, “Why not?  I can see a long, hot shower and another picnic in bed.”

She tilted her head and smiled, “That sounds lovely but I do have other plans.  The tube will be fine.”

Paul bristled, “You come to see me and spend the afternoon then you’re off with someone else?”

“I thought we decided no questions, please that is important to me or I won’t be able to see you again.” She sat up and he could watch her pull away.  He began to panic.

“No, I know I promised but I want to spend every second with you.  When I’m not with you, I worry and wonder about you.  Ivonne please I know you feel it too.”

She sighed and ran a shaky hand through her hair, “The tube please.”

She got out and started away, stopped and returned and leaned in the window, “Thank you I had a smashing time.  See ya.” She whispered before disappearing down the steep stairs in to the train station. 

Paul sat for the longest time wondering how he became so involved with a girl who could not commit to anything but brief interludes.  Slowly he put the car in gear and headed home.

Martha snorted and Paul snapped out of his daydream.  He stared at Ivonne’s face and thought how hopeless he felt when she left him at the tube station.  At that moment he was not sure he would ever see her again.

His girl returned home for two days and they were scheduled to attend the opening of a play.  Paul was so distracted but Jane figured it was work at the studio and gave him the space he needed.  For the first time he had no desire to sleep with her but of course did what was expected.  She was thrilled when he insisted they make love in the parlor area.  He had his own reasons for not wanting to use the bed.

Jane wore a beautiful full length dress, her hair piled high and Paul pulled his tux out of the back of his closet.  He hated these things and only went because it was important to her. 

Jane went to speak with several of the actors and Paul got a drink and wandered around a bit.  He turned and leaned back against the wall before the hairs on the back of his neck rose as his eyes fastened on Ivonne standing beside an older gentleman.  She was sipping wine and listening to a conversation.  She was wearing a long, velvet dress in sapphire that clung to every curve of her body.  Paul knew she wore absolutely nothing underneath.  The man with her was nodding to a couple, his arm absently snaking around her waist.  Paul felt sick and downed his drink.

Ivonne rose up and whispered into his ear and steered towards the ladies.  Paul followed and before she could go inside he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a storage room at the side of the stage.

His mouth was on hers, his arms crushing her body against his.  She moaned under the kiss and softly said his name.

“Where did you come from?” she breathed as he caressed her back.

“I’m here with my girl; this is her kind of gathering.”

“Your girl?” she said raising dark lashes up, her eyes capturing his.  “And all this time I thought I was your girl.”

“I’ve asked but you’re not having any.  Say the word and come home with me.” He bit her bottom lip and sunk his face against her throat licking and nibbling.  He adored the way she tasted and smelled.

“I am with someone and I need to get back.”

“Come to the house later.”

She smiled, “With your girl home, I don’t think that is a good idea.”

“I’ll pick a fight and she’ll go to her mother’s, please I need to see you.”

Ivonne ran a soft hand across his cheek and his eyes closed from the touch.  She kissed him and slipped from the room.  Paul sagged back against the wall and attempted to calm himself down.

During the play Paul kept scanning the audience for any sign of her.  He knew he was on the brink of obsession but could not help the urgent need inside.  He saw her stand and discreetly moved to the rear of the theatre.  Paul whispered to Jane and slipped away himself.

He re-entered the storage room and found her sitting on a prop pile.  She lifted her chin.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” She kept her eyes locked on his as he approached, dropped to his knees and ran eager hands up her stockings.

He kissed her inner thigh, “Yes you were.”

His mouth moved up only a garter belt holding her hose.  Ivonne leaned back as he explored her and with a shudder she exploded in an orgasm.  She clutched at his hair and kept repeating his name.

Paul stood and her fingers went for his fly.  He framed her face and brought her mouth to his, the moisture from her own private area still on his breath.  He rolled down the top of her dress and bathed her breasts with his tongue, sucking and rolling as she moaned softly.  Finally he dipped inside her never feeling anything like this ever before.  She clung to him as his hips plunged deeper and deeper until he whimpered as she drained every drop from him.  Paul buried has face against the top of her head while her fingers stroked his bum.  They were both trembling when he finally drew out.

Ivonne lifted her eyes to his, “What are we going to do?”

“Be together, it is the only thing that makes sense.” He ran a finger around her swollen lips still pulsing from his kisses.

“That’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible.  I can cut ties and so can you.  You just need to commit to being with me.”

Tears pooled in her remarkable eyes, “You have no idea about me, I could ruin everything for you.” She attempted to stand and staggered a bit.  Paul steadied her.

“I can’t explain it but I think I’m in love with you.” His eyes implored her.

She rearranged her dress and dabbed lipstick to her lips before glancing back at him, “Don’t.”

The confusion he was feeling that night, many years ago, seemed as fresh and painful.  Paul stood up and leaned on the mantel watching the flames lick and crackle.   He knew he was in love with her even if he did not understand how that could be.  Why did he just allow her to leave?  Why didn’t he fight harder to make things work?

Go Read Part Two!

Linda Cooper lives in Centennial, Colorado, and has for 18 years with her husband, two teen-age children, two cats and two dogs.  She works at the local high school, and loves hockey and music.  She first began writing in high school, sharing the duties with a good friend.  After several years in college, she moved to London with three friends and lived in a small flat in the West End, working, traveling and even having the privilege of meeting John Lennon at a book signing promotion.  Her stories took a hiatus for many years until about a year ago, when she found several websites with fan fiction and thought she would give it a go.  She hopes everyone finds them fun.

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