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Mimi's Letter

Title: Mimi's Letter
Pairing: John Lennon / Jane Asher
Rating: Chapter One - NC17 for sexual situations and language; Chapter Two - PG-13 for language
Word Count: Chapter One - 2,026; Chapter Two - 1,215




Chapter One
“What are you talking about, Mimi? You really are losing your mind in your old age,” I laughed lightly, patting her grayed hair.
“John, I am not that old!” Mimi protested in that tone I had come to know as the don’t-go-there-John-if-you-don’t-want-a-thumping tone. “That girl was laughing and absolutely glowing at everything you said last night! You had our table in stitches, her most of all!”
“Jane Asher?” I asked, as if maybe I had been following this whole conversation wrong and we were actually talking about someone else. “Come on, Mimi, you’re talking crazy.”
“John, it stuck out so much to me, I even wrote about it in my latest letter to your fan Judy! I still write to her, and had to mention Jane’s reaction to you in my last letter!”
“That’s great, Mimi, but you really are being ridiculous. Maybe you had too much to drink—“
“I was completely sober, and you damn well know it, John,” she folded her thin arms over her chest, fixing me with that stare, the only woman in the world able to make me fold laundry with just that glare.
I crossed my arms over my own chest, fixing her with just as imperious a stare. “Ridiculous, Mimi.”
“If you smartened up, you could get a worldly girl like that Jane Asher.”
“If I smartened up? What does that mean? What’s wrong with Cyn, I thought you liked her?”
“She’s a lovely girl, you know I think she’s fine, but John, you’re destined for so much! I just wish you would have held off making children until you found someone a little… I don’t know… higher on the social ladder to settle down with, is all. That’s all I’m saying. That’s it, John, don’t put words in me mouth.”
I just nodded, looking to the floor. I understood what she was saying, and she was only using Jane Asher as an example of the type of woman who Mimi felt suited a world-famous mop-top such as myself. An example. Unknowingly, she had just issued a challenge. And I never backed down from a challenge.

It wasn’t long before I had her long ginger hair tangled in my fingers, her smooth soft and wondrously sweaty skin rubbing against my own slickened skin, pressed between myself and the wall, screaming delicious obscenities through her strained and panting breaths. Her nails dug into my back, making my blood boil with insane heat as I pummeled her into that wall, desperate for our mutual release—
“John?”
Cyn? What the fuck was Cyn—oh. I blinked awake, turning to look at my bemused wife as she stared at me with worry in her eyes. I looked down at myself, the sheet over my midriff dampened. I swiped the sweat from my brow, laughing nervously as I climbed out of the bed and made for the bathroom, immediately turning on the cold water and climbing into the shower. Wet dreams? I was having wet dreams like a pre-pubescent teenage horndog? It was no longer Brigitte Bardot haunting my heated unconsciousness… it was an entirely new and unsuspecting beauty. Jane Asher. I ran my hand over my face, shutting off the water, my mind reeling.
“John? Is everything alright?” Cyn’s soft voice called from the other side of the bathroom door.
“I’m fine, Cyn! Can you call for the car to be brought around? I wanna go for a ride…”
There was a soft pause where Cyn allowed herself an annoyed sigh. “Alright.”
I nodded to myself, toweling off the water, watching my reflection closely in the mirror. I situated my hair and pulled on some clothes. Tight jeans and striped t-shirt and leather jacket. I dutifully kissed Cyn’s cheek goodbye as I stepped out into the crisp afternoon air, nodding to Les Anthony as I climbed into my Rolls.
“Take me to a flower shop, Les. And then to Paul’s place.”
Les glanced at me in the rearview mirror and I shot a spastic face at him. He knew better than to ask questions…
For three weeks that woman had haunted my dreams… it was high time I started haunting hers… I smiled to myself when Mimi’s face appeared in my mind’s eye tutting at me. “I only meant her as an example, John, no need to—“ I waved away her imagined reaction to what I was about to attempt, chewing my lip as I smiled out the window.
Les came out of the flower shop with a small assortment of bright yellow flowers.
“Daffodils,” he murmured as he handed them back to me.
“Beautiful, thank you, Les.”
“Now to Paul’s place, you said?” he asked, slight curiosity in his voice.
I nodded. “That’s right, Les.”
“Paul’s not there today, remember?” He reminded me, still watching me in the mirror intently.
“Sure,” was all I said, smelling the flowers.
Les maintained silence, but I could hear the gears in his head turning like crazy. I ignored the itching sensation over my skin from his unspoken questions and thanked him as I climbed out of the car in the Asher’s driveway, hiding the flowers behind my back as I rang the doorbell. Les watched for a moment until the door opened and then I could hear the car pulling out of the driveway. Good old Les.
“John?”
Her mouth was so perfect, I was just staring at it.
“Is Paul here?” I asked, pulling my eyes up to meet hers.
“No, no, he’s not,” she said, watching bemusedly as Les drove off with a friendly honking of the car’s horn.
“Oh, guess I can give these to you then,” I scoffed, pushing past her into the house, shoving the flowers into her chest.
She took the flowers, her jaw gaping open as she stood frozen in the doorway. “You were going to give these to Paul?”
“You didn’t know Paul liked tulips?”
“These are daffodils.”
“He likes those, too. You’re a horrid girlfriend, not knowing Paul’s favorite flowers.”
Her left eyebrow managed to raise as she stared open-mouthed at me. “John, I didn’t invite you into the house.”
“I didn’t ask to be invited in, did I?” I shot her a big smile, sticking out my tongue at her.
“What is all this, are you drunk?” she asked, and I could hear her give a little sniff as if she were trying to smell the alcohol.
“That I am not, missus. Alcohol-free. Possibly out of my mind, but not because of drink or drug, thank you very much.” I smiled at her, to let her know I was not angry with her insinuation.
I found myself looking her over closely, studying her. I hoped I didn't resemble a wolf circling its prey, for that's exactly how I felt. I had never encountered a woman quite like her before. Women, in my experience, usually begged to be so much as touched by a Beatle. She had fallen for Paul when every single one of us had tried to pull her. I hadn't received so much as a second glance from her and remarkably hadn't felt slighted in the least bit. It had just worked out that way. But now, now I yearned to ask her why, demand a reason. How was I going to approach her? My mind reeled, not used to being on the losing side of this game. I felt my spirit of competition stirring within me.
"John?"
Her voice brought me back to the present. "Yes?"
"Why are you here?" she asked, her hands going to her hips, the flowers flopping at her side.
"I don't know." It fell out of my mouth before I could stop it and ask it where it was going... and embarrassment was not something I was accustomed to showing, so I didn't. I just shrugged and tried to look as nonchalant as I could.
She looked to the floor, scratching her arm and letting out a soft sigh. "Would you like some tea?" she finally asked, looking up at me with a shrug.
I nodded, trying not to smile. I was playing nonchalant, studying her moves, seeing where I could get in. I realized with a grin that I had never thought this hard about pulling a woman before. With a thrill in my abdomen I found the one-sided game was becoming quite exhilarating and fun. I watched her body move beneath her light yellow sun-dress as I followed her to the kitchen. God, she did look good. Strange long red hair, silky smooth pale skin. Her mouth. That deserved its own song, its own story. I swallowed, my brows furrowing. Where the hell was this coming from?
"So, how are you? How's Julian and Cynthia?" her voice floated to me and I closed my eyes, cursing her in my head for bringing them up.
"They're good. How are your folks?" I could play the polite game, too, if I tried hard enough. I sat at the table, leaning back in the chair, admiring my surroundings. The kitchen was quaint. She was bending down to get the tea kettle from the cabinet and my breath caught in my throat as I watched. God, she had a great body. She had been talking. Shit, shit, shit, I hadn't heard.
"Yeah? That's good." I nodded, hoping beyond hope that she hadn't said something about her parents having some deadly disease...
She just nodded and continued on her story of how her mother was enjoying learning to crochet and urging her to do so as well. That was close. She came over to me, still chatting and placed my cup of tea in front of me, her breasts waving to me most deliciously from the low-cut top of her dress. But that wasn’t what drug a low soft moan from my throat. It was her smell. Tantalizing. Fresh. Clean. New. Warm. I had to have it. Bottle it up and carry it around with me. I could feel her heat, I wanted her closer. I was leaning toward her as she walked away. I nearly fell out of my chair, leaning for her.
I dwelled in her, my eyes floating shut, my wet dreams coming into my mind’s eye as vividly as if I had just grabbed her and bent her over the table before me right here and now. I was breathing a little heavily, my blood feeling hot as my imagination ran hot and wild with thoughts of what she would sound like as I pleased her, how her skin would feel against mine, what her sweat tasted like. I peeled my eyes open and she was sipping at her tea, staring at me, a light grin quirking her lips.
“What are you over there thinking about so intently?” she asked, watching me with amusement dancing in her beautiful eyes. She leaned forward, the tea cup hanging delicately between her slim fingers. Why did she have to lean forward like that, inviting me to take a peek at those perfect breasts just screaming for my attention? I wondered hotly if they felt as soft as they looked? Or was it a trick of the light? Of my heightened lust? I’d love to find out…
“John? What’s going on behind those eyes? Tell me where you’re drifting off to…”
“Just thinking. Dreaming, I guess. In the day. Daydreaming.”
“Daydreaming about what?”
“You.”
Had she heard me? I had said it so soft—
“John, I think you should leave.”
So noble of her. I guess I should…
“I’m sorry.” I muttered, but for what, I wasn’t sure. She just nodded solemnly and led me to the door.
“You can call a cab and wait here until it comes. It was good to see you, John. Stop by again sometime.”
Her voice was saying it, but the statement did not reflect in her eyes. Niceties, yet again. Nicely played, Miss Asher. I nodded, with a goofy smile, calling Les and waiting patiently in the foyer until he pulled up and carried me away, Jane’s smile still flashing through my brain as vividly as anything I’d ever experienced before.



Chapter Two
It had been nearly a month since I had last seen Jane face-to-face. And as I watched her sitting next to Paul at their table, laughing and holding hands and sharing kisses every so often, a sharp pain shot through my stomach as I realized that she had probably not had a single thought pass her mind about me. And that hurt more than it should. I sipped at my drink, not really tasting it, as I watched Paul lead Jane out to the dance floor and the two began dancing close and sweetly as the music washed over them.
I hadn’t stepped onto the dance floor once the whole night. No one had asked why, and I didn’t want to explain anything to anyone anyway. My drink was getting too light and I headed back to the bar, nodding to the bartender for another fill. He obliged and I swirled the liquid around, wishing it would take me away but it wasn’t doing its job. She was still there. Still dancing. Still beautiful.
“Are you John Winston Lennon of the Beatles?”
I grinned to myself. What a ridiculous way to ask me who I was, using my whole name. A small girl who looked only twelve, but had to have been older to be standing at the bar next to me, blinked up at me, quivering with excitement.
“No,” I simply stated, sipping at my drink.
“No?” she replied, studying my face. She opened her mouth to ask something else and I pointed at Paul and Jane in the middle of the dance floor.
“Him, him there, he’s in the Crickets.” I downed my drink and shot her a cripple’s face.
She hadn’t even looked back at me as she beckoned to some friends who all made a bee-line for Paul and Jane. I grinned to myself, stepping off my stool and heading back to my scowling spot in the corner of the room. A few minutes had gone by and I felt a body of heat next to me. Before I turned, I knew it was her, something just felt right.
“Can you believe those girls? They just pushed me out of the bloody way, and Paul didn’t even stop them! Their stupid bloody autographs are more important than Paul and I finally getting to spend some quality time together, I can’t believe it—“
She was talking so fast, I could hardly keep up as I just watched her lips move and her hands flashing in agitated flourishes.
“And why are you just standing over here and not dancing, are you alright?” She suddenly asked, staring back at me with a look of concern mixed with her prior agitation and anger, making for quite the amusing mask.
“No one here worth dancing with,” I replied.
“Where’s Cynthia?” she asked, stepping closer to me so I could hear her over the new song being played by the jazz band onstage.
“Home.”
“Oh.” She looked down, opening her mouth to, I’m sure, politely excuse herself, but I cut her off.
“Do you care to have a little dance?”
Her mouth just hung open for a long moment before she closed it, smiled politely, and nodded, holding out her hands. “Sure, why not?”
I just nodded, grinning, taking her hands and walking out onto the dance floor, rocking back and forth to the slow beat as she looped her arms over my neck and mine settled on her supple hips.
“I feel bad that Cynthia misses out on all the fun!” Jane simpered, trying to make small talk.
I sighed under my breath. “Well, this isn’t really her scene, you know?”
“It’s not? What is her scene?”
I just smiled, giving Jane a little twirl, not the most adept dancer, but trying to come off smooth. “Home,” I finally replied.
“Oh.”
She suddenly tensed in my arms and I turned slightly to see where she was staring. Paul was among the throng of the same girls, but their numbers had increased slightly, and he was tucking one’s hair behind her ear and she giggled, him leaning forward to whisper in her ear, causing many a blush and giggle. Jane’s arms dropped angrily to her sides and she mumbled some sort of excuse before hurrying off out the back door of the club.
I bit my lip, looking back and forth between Paul and the back door. My feet took me toward the back door. Soft, angry cursing and loud thumps lead me to where Jane was kicking at the side of dumpster, tears nowhere on her face, but her voice was full of them as she cursed and kicked, cursed and kicked.
“Jane?” I asked, trying not to laugh, the scene seeming ridiculous in my head.
“What, John?” she barked, giving the dumpster a few more kicks before actually looking at me.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t understand how he justifies dropping me aside for those girls. He didn’t just give them an autograph, oh no, he was… he was… flirting with them!” she finished, speaking hysterically and angrily, causing me to take a step back, weighing my options.
“Well, that’s just Paul, you know?”
“What does that mean?” she asked, her eyes full of malice and hurt.
“That’s just the way he is. The way he’s always been.”
“Doesn’t he care about me? I mean—“
“He doesn’t love you.” I had said it calmly, plainly, and obviously, scratching at the side of my nose.
"What do you know, John? Huh? What do you know?" she spat, venom in her rising voice as she gave me a harsh shove. "Huh? Tell me, John, what do you know? Who are you to tell me about my relationship?"
"If I was wrong, you wouldn't be so angry, you would just say I was wrong and move on... but you know I'm right," I replied, my voice with a slight inflection of my own anger in it. “And what do you know about love, John Lennon? Huh? While your poor wife sits at home, taking care of your son, you’re out here cavorting about with pretty ladies and Beatle fangirls who you use and then throw out like last night’s spaghetti! What do you know about love?” she was pounding my chest, but I didn’t feel it, I could only hear her words, and they were pissing me off. I grabbed her wrist, shoving her a few inches away from me.
“Now, you listen here, you don’t know how Cyn and I operate! You don’t know anything about us, so you shut your trap about us!”
She wrenched her hands from my grip and slapped me hard across the face, catching her breath and staring at me. My hands reached for her and I didn't know why, my heart thudding so painfully in my throat. What was I doing? I didn't give a shit about her, she was just a game. But the pain in her eyes made my heart drop into my stomach with a loud splash. Tears leaked from her beautiful eyes and she ran away from me, back into the club, before I could even process what had happened. By the time I raced back into the club, she and Paul were gone.

Comments

( 5 comments — Leave a comment )
ringo_doll
Jul. 29th, 2009 07:08 pm (UTC)
I have to admit, I've always wondered how it would be if John and Jane got together. Even if it was just sex and not a serious relationship. This fic has caught my interest. Please write more soon.
voodoochild9
Dec. 21st, 2009 12:09 am (UTC)
Howard Johnson is right! LOL (by that, I mean ringo_doll)
I don't know about you, but I LOVE Beatle wive or girlfriend swinging ;)
And I definitely like the direction this one is going in.
maccas4evrlver
Dec. 21st, 2009 04:54 am (UTC)
Wow, I had forgotten about this fic and there's a LOT more that's written! If you're interested, I'll post it! Its not polished, or beta-d, but then... most of my work isn't...

I love that there is interest in the pairing! They are fun to write together.
voodoochild9
Dec. 21st, 2009 05:12 am (UTC)
Oh, I AM interested :P
I hope I don't have to wait long
maccas4evrlver
Dec. 21st, 2009 12:42 pm (UTC)
Posted the rest that I had done here: http://community.livejournal.com/beatlewivesfic/5268.html

Its not finished, and I don't know when I'll ever get around to writing more! :( But I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!
( 5 comments — Leave a comment )