Chapter 2

 “Get up, you louses!” I woke up to a sharp rap on the door. George and Paul jolted awake and yelled in semi-unison, “Aww fuck off, Lennon. It’s too early!”

“Breakfast in 30 minutes! Be there, or I’ll eat it all meself!” John yelled as he noisily made his way down the hallway.

George kissed the back of my neck. I turned to him in response. “Morning, beautiful. Sorry for the nature of the wake up.” George said groggily.

“It’s ok. Good morning, bedhead,” I said, smiling as I noticed how tossled George’s hair was.

Kissing me, he answered, “You like it? I worked on it all night.”

“Hey Harrison, introduce me to your bird,” an equally groggy Paul interjected.

“Oh, sorry Paul! This is Stella Kirchherr.” Noticing Paul’s surprise, George anticipated his question, and said, “No – she’s not related to Astrid. I already asked.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure, Stella Kirchherr,” Paul said, flashing a charming smile.

“Nice to meet you, too, Paul,” I said, noting that Paul seemed quite adorable, even early in the morning. Turning to George, I kissed his cheek and said, “Well, dear, I really should be getting home, so I can get ready for school.”

George pulled me closer as I tried to get off the bed. “Are you sure you have to leave, love? You’ll miss the best breakfast the Reeperbahn can provide.”

“I’m afraid I do. I’ve a test today.” I said, wrapping my arms around his torso.

Kissing my forehead, George resigned himself to the inevitable. “Alright then, let me at least get you safely home.”

As George and I worked our way through Hamburg to my neighborhood, which was as different as you could imagine from the grimy Reeperbahn, I felt like we were an actual couple. George was very protective of me, making sure to walk on the outside of the sidewalk, and leading me through crowds with a possessive hand on my back. I couldn’t quite believe that he actually cared enough to take me all the way across the city to my house, but I was quickly realizing that, under his hard rocker exterior, George was one of the gentlest souls I had ever met.

“Here it is,” I said, pointing to the neatly manicured house on the corner that I had lived in all my life.

“Wow, very posh, baby girl,” George said, whistling in reaction.

“I guess so,” I said, turning to him. George pulled me close to him, running his hands through my hair. Staring up at him, I began to panic. Does he want to see me again? What if this was a one-night stand for him? But he took me home! Was he just being nice?

My fears quickly subsided when George said, “So when does school end for the day? Can you come straight to the club afterwards?”

Smiling, I ran my hands through the back of his hair. “Of course I can, George.”

George smiled and, leaning in, began to slowly and deeply kiss me. I could feel a warmth grow between my legs, and felt an erection begin to grow in his jeans. George’s hands began to wander from my back down to my butt. He gave my butt a little squeeze, and mumbled into my lips, “God you turn me on so much, baby girl. It’s going to be a long day without you.”

I tucked my hands in the back pocket of his jeans, and looked up at him. “You’re adorably mischievous, Mr. Harrison, but if my parents see us, my father will literally kill you with his bare hands.”

George groaned in protest as I took his hands in mine, pulling them around my body and kissing them gently. “I’m going to see you so soon, though, dear.” I said, trying to make him feel better.

“I know, but I’m going to miss you. I wish you didn’t have to go to school, but I wouldn’t want your father killing me, so I’ll leave you to it.” George kissed me gently, but deeply, and gave my hand a squeeze, before walking back towards the Reeperbahn.

“See you soon, love!” he said, walking backwards and blowing me a kiss. I blew him a kiss, answering, “Bye, George!”

As soon as I arrived at school, Anna and Karl nearly pounced on me. “What happened with George?!” they yelled in unison.

“Give me some room to breath and I’ll tell you!” I said, laughing at their enthusiasm, which I suspected had a hint of worry in it.

Sitting on the steps of our Catholic high school, I told Anna and Karl that George and I had walked along the water and made out a little before he took me home. I decided to omit the rest of the evening, for fear that I would get a lecture on responsibility from Anna, who seemed to think she knew what was best for everyone.

“So what was it like kissing him??” Anna said in a hushed tone. “I have to admit, he’s pretty cute.”

I laughed, saying, “So you finally agree with me! It was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

Karl suddenly seemed very interested in a bug crawling on the step next to him. Without looking up, he mumbled, “So, are you ever going to see him again?”

“Yeah, actually, he invited me back to that same club. I’m going there right after school.” Anna and Karl exchanged a meaningful glance, but the school bell rang before they could articulate to me what they communicated with each other.

At lunch, Anna and Karl tried to convince me that George wouldn’t give me the time of day, since he had already gotten some action. I tried to convince them that George was different, but they insisted he was all charm, and no substance.

After school, I headed straight for the club. I had a big project due the next day, but suddenly that didn’t seem nearly as important as being with George and his band.

When I arrived at the Star Club, I found only Paul and John there.

“Afternoon, Stella! George is out getting some new guitar strings. He’ll be back soon. Cuppa tea?” Paul asked brightly, hopping down from the stage.

“Sure, Paul, I’d love some,” I answered, smiling at the baby faced singer. Paul winked at me, and ran backstage.

“So I guess your beau isn’t here right now,” John addressed me without looking up from tuning his black Rickenbacker. I had met him that morning briefly, and had found him just a little bit scary, though George and Paul assured me that he was harmless.

“Yeah, I guess he’s going to be back soon.” I said, trying my best to sound mature and confident. After all, John was 22 years old.

I sat down at the same table I occupied the night before, and adjusted my mini-skirt. I had hid this outfit in the bottom of my backpack that morning, wanting to die rather than show up at the club in my school uniform.

As I touched up my makeup in anticipation of George’s arrival, I could tell John was staring at me. But I wasn’t prepared for him being right behind me.

“John, you startled me!” I exclaimed, as I turned around to see him merely inches from me. I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Sorry Stella, but it’s hard to stay away from a girl like you,” he slurred as he quite obviously looked down my sweater. I fidgeted in my seat, not knowing what to do. I nearly leaped out of my seat when I saw Paul bound in with my tea.

“Thanks, Paul!” I grabbed the tea so forcefully from him that he nearly dropped it. But when he saw how close John was to my table, he put 2 and 2 together.

“Stop being a perv, John. George is going to be back soon, and you know he can beat you to a pulp, even though he’s smaller than you. And if he doesn’t manage to do it, I will. Stella’s a nice girl; don’t corrupt her by being you.” Paul’s words somehow snapped John back into shape, and he mumbled something apologetic and went back to his tuning.

Paul sat down at my table. “So sorry about him, love. He’s really harmless, but he can get a bit rowdy when he’s had too much to drink.”

“Oh, it’s ok, but I’m glad you came back when you did,” I said, smiling at Paul. He really did have beautiful eyes. And he was such a charmer!

My thoughts were interrupted by that by-now familiar, lilting Scouse. “Stella! You made it!” George wrapped his arms around me from behind, kissing me right under my ear.

I stood up and turned around, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I didn’t even see you come in, you sneaky boy!”

“I wanted to surprise you, baby girl,” George grinned, pulling me into a kiss.

Paul interrupted our kiss after much too short of a time. “Alright, Stella, we’re going to have to steal George away. Rehearsal should’ve started an hour ago … but someone just had to have new guitar strings.”

“Ok, dear, Paul’s right. Time to play,” I said, running my hands through the back of his hair.

George groaned in protest, but gave me a quick peck, and bounded on stage.

“Ok, boys, let’s run through ‘A Taste of Honey.’ The harmonies were a little off last night, I think.” John immediately took control of the rehearsal.

George plugged in his black Gretsch Duo Jet, quickly checking to make sure it was still in tune from the night before. “You’re going to be right there, right love?” He asked me.

“Of course, George dear, where would I go?” I laughed a little at his concern.

“Oh I dunno, but I want to be able to see you the whole time.”

“George!” Paul, John, and Ringo yelled in unison.

“Sorry,” George mumbled, snapping to attention.

The rehearsal went well, at least according to my non-musician’s perspective. Afterwards, Paul, John, and Ringo left to get a drink (or three) around the corner.

“Aren’t you going with them, dear?” I asked, as I watched the three boys leaving.

“Oh, they’re just going to the same old place. I’m sick of it. Besides, I’d rather spend time just with you.” He said, approaching me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“You were wonderful up there,” I mumbled against his lips.

“Mmm?” George obviously wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying, as he was preoccupied.

I laughed a little, and repeated what I had said.

“Oh … thanks, love,” he answered, pulling away enough to be able to talk to me. “Sorry – can’t really talk to a guy when he’s kissing such a beautiful girl.” He said, running his hands through my hair.

“Oh George Harrison, you’re such a charmer. I bet you say that to all the girls,” I chided him.

He seemed a little taken aback. “Well, I’m not going to lie; there have been a lot of girls. But I can honestly say I’ve never met a girl like you before,” he said so earnestly that he suddenly seemed like a boy in love for the first time.

“I believe you, dear,” I said, kissing him.

Grinning, George answered, “Now you’ve got to believe me that I desperately need to use the loo.” Pecking me on the forehead, George ran backstage like a schoolboy.

Looking around for something to occupy me until George returned, I spotted one of John’s acoustic guitars lying on stage. I’d always wanted to play guitar, but somehow school got in the way of everything enjoyable.

Gingerly, I picked it up and began plucking each string softly. Not bad! I thought, as I got a nice sound out of each one.

“You play guitar, love??” George exclaimed incredulously, hopping up on stage and plopping down next to me.

Putting down the guitar, I answered, “Oh no, not at all. But I’ve always wanted to learn.”

Grinning, George said, “Well then, love, you’ve come to the right place!”

“What if I’m no good?” I asked, looking down.

“Aww, anyone can play a few guitar chords! Besides, I can tell … you’ll be marvelous,” George answered, kissing me.

“You’re just saying that,” I answered.

“Not in the least! Now let’s get started,” George said, moving closer to me. “Now the strings are E-B-G-D-A-E. Just try plucking them and we’ll say the names together.”

Putting his arm around me, George and I plucked each string one by one.

“Good! You’re off to a great start,” George said, kissing me on the cheek. “Wanna learn a chord? We’ll start with the easiest one.”

“Sure,” I said, having a hard time concentrating on the guitar with George so close to me. Something about him just radiated sexuality; he made me lose control in ways that scared me, but also made me excited like never before.

“Ok, so here’s an open G chord. All you have to do is put your finger on the 3^rd fret on the little E string up there, see?” George reached around and put his finger where mine was supposed to go.

“Like this?” I asked, replacing his finger with mine.

“That’s perfect, love! Now you keep your finger there, and I’ll strum, and we’ll make the chord together.” George said, as he strummed the top four strings.

Giving me a kiss on the cheek, he whispered, “That was the most beautiful open G chord ever.”

Kissing him on his temple, I answered, “Well, you’re a great teacher, George, dear.”

“You’re too sweet, Stella love,” George answered. “What do you say we call it a day for guitar lessons? There’s something I want to show you backstage.”