Chapter 3

 Following him backstage, I had a feeling there wasn’t anything he wanted to show me. I was turned on by having him show me how to play guitar, and I think he was, too. George led me to a small side room off of the main dressing room and closed the door behind me.

“I’m sorry love, but I couldn’t handle it anymore,” he said as he took me in his arms. “You’re just too much with that little sweater,” he said as he took off my sweater, “and that little skirt,” he said as he pulled down my skirt, “and that little bra,” he said as he took off my bra, leaving me only in my boots.

I decided to play along. “Well, George love, you’re just too much with that shirt of yours,” I said as I took his shirt off, “and those jeans of yours,” I said as I pulled his jeans down. He was already as hard as I would’ve expected after quite a bit of foreplay.

I pulled him into a kiss and he mumbled against my lips, “You’re such a naughty little schoolgirl … my naughty little schoolgirl.”

Encouraged by his words, I hopped up on a trunk behind me and wrapped my legs around his torso. As I rubbed my bare pussy against his chest, he groaned in pleasure.

“Jesus, girl, where’d you learn to do that?”

“I don’t know,” I said, giggling and hiding my face in his chest.

George turned my head towards him, and kissed me. “Don’t be ashamed, love! I love it.”

The way George kissed me was unlike any other way I’d been kissed before. It was always sweet, but also always passionate and undeniably sexy. It made me want to dissolve into him forever. As we kissed in that side room, pressing our bare chests together, I could hear the other boys getting dressed and messing around in the main dressing room.

I pulled away from George just enough to be able to talk to him. Groaning in protest, he leaned into me. “Why’d you stop, baby?” he whined.

“Because, dear, your bandmates are outside. What if they come looking for us and we get caught?”

“But I need you, Stella.”

“But imagine what John would do if he caught us.” I was dead set on holding my ground, but George looked crestfallen. He backed away from me a little, and stared at the floor. “They know what we’re doing, but they won’t bother us … it’s a Beatles rule. But if you don’t want to …” He trailed off, biting his bottom lip and rubbing the back of his neck while staring at the floor.

Is George Harrison insecure? I thought, incredulously.

“Oh sweetie, of course I want to!” I said, reaching out and pulling him close to me. Stroking his hair as he lay his head on my chest, I said, “I didn’t know about the rule. Of course I want to … You’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever met.”

George perked up and kissed me. “You’re too kind, Miss Kirchherr. Shall we proceed, then?”

Wrapping my legs around his torso once again and kissing him, I answered, “Yes, Mr. Harrison. Let’s.”

Kissing me deeply, George pulled me close with one hand, using the other to rub me gently but firmly. “You’re dripping wet,” he mumbled into my lips. “Is that all for me?”

Smiling, I whispered, “Yes, love, it’s all for you.” Letting my hand wander lower on his stomach, I took him in my hand. He was rock hard.

“Is this all for me, Mr. Harrison?”

George could only manage a groan and a weak, “Yes, love, all for you.”

Gently, George then placed my arms around his neck. Grinning mischievously, he bent down and spread my legs wide.

I wasn’t expecting George to go down on me, especially since he was so hard that I thought for sure he’d be ready to be deep inside me. But he took his time, using his tongue and lips expertly. George clearly knew what he was doing, and I became wetter than I had ever been.

Running my hands through his hair, I half moaned, “Baby, I need you inside me.”

Coming up to reach my eye level, George flashed that adorable half-smile. “Is that so? Well, I’d be remiss to leave such a sweet girl out in the cold.”

I wrapped my arms around his torso and placed my hands on his shoulders.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, George gently penetrated me. I let out a small moan as his shaft passed against my clit. Resting my head on his neck, I breathed heavily.

Wrapping my legs around his torso, I squeezed to make him penetrate me even deeper.

“You like it when I go deep, my little naughty schoolgirl?” George said breathily, his lips grazing my hair.

“Yes.”

“God, baby, you’re so fucking hot,” George said huskily, quickening his thrusts. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Realizing what he wanted me to say, I said softly, “Fuck me.” Then I realized I wasn’t just playing a game. George made me feel dirty and sexy and I loved it.

“Yeah, I know that’s what you want, you naughty little girl.” 

George quickened his thrusts and went deeper and deeper until I felt that familiar warmth. After he came, George slumped in exhaustion onto my shoulders.

Kissing my neck, he said softly, “Did you come, baby?”

Rubbing the back of his neck and kissing his hair, which glistened with sweat, I said, “Yes.”

George kissed my ear and pushed himself up, standing upright. “I’m glad. Well, the others will start to get annoyed if we take too much longer, so we’d best be getting dressed.”

George grabbed a once-white towel that had been thrown on an amp in the corner, and wiped the sweat off the back of his neck and chest. He then offered me the towel.

Laughing a little, I said, “Do you have another, dear? As much as I find you unspeakably sexy, I’m not going to be clean if I’ve got your sweat on me.”

Putting on his best pouty face, George said, “You don’t want my sweat, love? Well ok, then, here’s a clean one … well, sort of a clean one.”

Excited to watch George perform again, I situated myself at my usual table. I noticed that the club was much more crowded than it had been the night before. Maybe news had gotten around about the band!

Right before George launched into the first number, he grinned at me and winked. My stomach filled with butterflies and my heart swelled. I can’t believe he likes me, I thought. But just as I was about to drift into a daydream of making love to George by the water, his hands running through my hair, and falling asleep in his arms, I got the distinct feeling that I was being stared at. Turning around, I saw three scantily clad girls staring daggers at me.

Utterly confused, I dismissed it and focused my attention on George. They must be mixing me up with someone else. I’ve never seen those girls before!

But they kept staring at me. Every time George smiled at me, or winked—which was every couple of minutes—they grimaced at me and then began furiously talking with one another. Finally, at the beginning of the second half of the set, I approached them.

“Excuse me, but I couldn’t help notice you looking at me. Did I do something to offend you?”

A buxom blonde turned to me. Her large breasts were stuffed into a tight blue leather tank top, which she coupled with an impossibly short black mini-skirt, fishnet stockings, and black leather boots that reached nearly to her knees. “Honey, I’m only going to say this once. George Harrison is mine. Paul McCartney’s hers,” she said, thrusting her thumb behind her at the equally buxom brunette in a skintight black leather dress, “and John Lennon’s hers,” she said, thrusting a thumb behind her other shoulder at a redhead in a bright red leotard and black fishnets.

“George might be getting his schoolgirl fantasy out with you, but he needs a woman. You’re a girl. Oh – and we’ve fucked in every position imaginable, right on that stage,” she said, grinning menacingly and motioning to the stage with her chin. “I know how to satisfy him. So have your fun, get your little rock n roll fantasy out, but don’t expect to be here long.”

It was clear that I wasn’t expected to respond- not that I could have. I staggered back to my seat, almost falling into my chair. Is that girl right? George is 19 after all – he’s a man. I’m only a girl. I can’t give him what that girl can.

“Stella!” George yelled, snapping me back to reality.

“Oh, sorry George. I think I drifted off,” I said, shaking my head. Looking around, I realized that the club was nearly empty. Paul and John were nowhere to be found. Ringo was finishing packing up his drums.

“I’ve been trying to get through to you for 30 minutes, love,” George said gently, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “I was really worried. Where’d you go?”

I explained to him about the girls and how frightened I was that I meant nothing to him. As I told the story, I saw the sadness in George’s eyes. “I’m so sorry Carla said that to you. I don’t know if it’ll help convince you, but she tried to get me to bring her back to the hotel tonight. She said that you were obviously in over your head, and that I was wasting my time. I told her how much I care about you, and said I never wanted to see her again.” I could tell that George was desperately searching my eyes for signs of understanding.

I began to cry from relief, and buried my head in his chest. “Shh, it’s ok,” George whispered, stroking my hair and pulling me close to him. “I’d never try to hurt you like she said. You’re my girl – why would I do that?”

With bloodshot eyes, I turned to look at George. “I’m your girl? You mean there aren’t any others?”

George stroked my cheek, and gently pushed my hair back behind my ear. “Stella, you’ve got to understand something. I might be able to sleep with lots of girls, but that doesn’t mean I’ll do it if I’ve found the girl for me. And you’re the girl for me. I wouldn’t want to lose you by sleeping with some random bird. Now, am I the only guy you’ve got right now?”

Kissing him and running my hands through the back of his hair, I whispered, “Of course you’re the only one, George.”