dark-horse-ficlets

Last Minute

Mon, 24 Dec 2012 00:31:46 +0100

Title: Last Minute
Characters: Sitara, Brennan, and George Harrison
Word Count: 739
Rating: PG [cuteness]
Warnings/Spoilers/Summary: It's George and Sita's first Christmas together as a married couple -- and as parents.

December 23, 1974
London, UK

Smiling, George entered the living room, carrying a tray of hot tea. His lips parted to speak, but Sitara quickly lifted her finger to her lips. Understanding, he nodded and set the tray down on the coffee table. He quickly added milk and sugar to both, stirring without making a sound. His eyes held hers, trying to decide if he should even offer her the cup. She motioned down to the sleeping baby in her arms with her green eyes.

“Do you think…” he whispered.

She shook her head, afraid to even whisper and wake the infant up. Ignoring her worry, George slipped his hands under the newborn and carefully lifted him out of Sitara’s embrace. The baby instantly began to fuss, wiggling in his father’s hands. George carefully tipped the baby up onto his shoulder.

“George, I just finally got him to…”

“Shhh,” he rocked back and forth. “Daddy’s got you. Let’s give Mummy a rest.”

The baby fussed for a bit longer before finally settling back down, cradled in George’s arms. Smiling, Sitara reached for her cup of tea once their son dozed again. Not even a month old, Brennan was certainly the apple of George’s eye. He doted on the newborn like no other – that is except for Sitara. His loving worship of her had not even slightly waned since the birth of their first child. If anything, he was even more focused on showing her how much he loved her. She noticed every little thing he did for her and appreciated it more than she could say.

“I can’t believe our first Christmas together as a married couple is also our first Christmas as a family,” she commented softly, setting her teacup down.

George flashed a smile at her, “That just makes it twice as special.”

“I haven’t… I haven’t had the chance to get you anything,” Sitara commented softly.

His eyes widened, “Are you kidding me? You have given me the best thing ever. Just look at this baby. Have you ever seen a more perfect baby? Ever?”

“George…”

“I don’t need any gifts, Sita. You and Brennan are more than I could ever ask for. I don’t need anything under the tree.”

Sitara was silent for a moment, “George, we don’t have a tree.”

His eyes broke from hers and he glanced around the living room. In the excitement of bringing home a new baby and getting settled as being parents for the first time, they had all but forgotten about Christmas. No plans had been made, not for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. He could not even remember if his family mentioned anything. Nothing really mattered but the two-week-old baby boy in his arms.

And yet, they needed to have Christmas. The holidays were important too. How was he going to fix everything in… two days?

“You just worry about being the wonderful mum that you are,” his eyes returned to hers. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Hearing the floorboards creak at the top of the stairs, George quickly hung the last ornament before running up to intercept Sitara. He kissed their child’s head, smiling when the baby gurgled, and moved behind his wife. Saying nothing, he covered her eyes, told her to trust him, and carefully guided her down the stairs.

His family managed to remain silent as the new family entered the room. His mother clutched her hands tightly, wringing them slightly, as she waited for her daughter-in-law’s reaction. George stopped mother and child in the center of the room, turning Sitara to face the last minute Christmas tree.

Kissing her ear gently, he dropped his hands from her eyes, settling his arms around her waist, under the baby, “Open your eyes, Sita.”

Her emerald eyes fluttered open and quickly gasped. Not only did a large, fully decorated tree take up a large portion of their living room, but a couple dozen wrapped packages peeked out from beneath the sparkling lights. Her gaze left the festive decorations and glanced around at George’s gathered family. Passing the baby off to George as she slipped out of his arms, Sitara quickly embraced each person, thanking them softly with tears in her eyes.

Returning to her husband and son, she smiled before kissing him softly, “This is…simply amazing, George.”

“Happy Christmas, baby,” his eyes twinkled before he kissed her again. “And happy Christmas to you too, little guy.”

Not Yet

Sun, 26 Feb 2012 06:36:12 +0100

Title: Not Yet
Characters: Sitara Barlow, George Harrison
Word Count: 1225
Rating:NC-17 [sex]
Warnings/Spoilers/Summary: George spends time with Sitara on his birthday.

February 25, 1970
London, UK

Stepping out of the bathroom with her hair dripping, Sitara quickly plaited her hair as she headed to her room. Kanti had already left for the evening; to where Sitara was unsure. It did not matter. All that mattered was she had the flat to herself, as planned, for George’s birthday celebration. With the band imploding, she knew he needed to get away from everything and just relax. A night in would do just the trick.

After seeing to a few more things around the apartment, Sitara dressed and styled her hair. She anointed her pulse points with scented oil and lit incense. By the time a knock sounded at the door, the flat was filled with the sweet, heady aroma of India. With no plans to leave, her feet remained bare, peeking out from under a long, sheer, pink skirt, which did nothing to conceal her matching fuschia panties. Tiny bells tinkled with each step as she headed to answer the door, though she did not know why he bothered to knock.

“Happy birthday, George,” she smiled as she opened the door.

His eyes quickly glanced over her, noting that her bandeau top left hardly more to be imagined than her skirt, “Hello, sexy.”

Motioning him in, Sitara closed the door before slipping her arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly, “How has your day been?”

“Much better now that I’m with you,” his arms circled her waist, pulling her close.

“I have food ready if you’re hungry,” she declared.

His lips met hers again, “I would rather…”

“Hmmm?” her green eyes met his.

George kissed her deeply, “I think you know.”

“George…”

Saying nothing, he quickly scooped her up. She giggled but looped her arm around his neck, kissing and nibbling on his ear. Stopping midway to her bedroom, George moaned and quickly kissed her. Keeping his tongue jostling with hers, he continued towards the room, slowly down to carefully slip through the door without slamming Sitara into the frame.

George laid her in the center of her bed and quickly moved to turn off the overhead lights. He briefly grinned, realizing candles were lit throughout the apartment. Turning back to her, his eyes glanced over her, the curves of her body warmed by candlelight. It illuminated warm tones of her skin, making her glow.

“You are… gorgeous,” he muttered, moving towards the bed.

“And all yours,” she responded.

He groaned, crawling towards her. His fingers trailed up her shapely legs, pushing the sheer, silk skirt towards her waist. Biting her bottom lip, Sitara giggled and lifted her hips, pulling her skirt and panties down. Without pause, George helped her shed the garments, tossing them off the bed. His eyes met hers before he climbed between her legs, leaning down to kiss and lick her virginal sex.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she attempted to watch him, but soon found the sexy feelings forcing her eyes to close and her head to fall back. She moaned softly, not entirely understanding why he was worshipping her when it was his birthday.

George pulled away once her moans softened and her body tensed slightly. He quickly sat up and reached around her back, unfastening the top. His mouth hungrily sucked and kissed her caramel-colored breasts, gently pressing her to lie back down. He pulled away from her, though his eyes remained on her naked body, and stripped his clothes off.

Her fingers circled his cock, stroking it to full erection. George slipped between her legs, remaining pressed up on his knees to allow her fingers to continue to dance over his hot flesh. His tip oozed slightly, making her giggle. He groaned as she rubbed her finger over the crown of his cock and then licked her finger.

As her finger left her lips, George leaned down and kissed her. He nipped and sucked on her bottom lip, while his right hand cupped and rubbed her breasts. She gasped into his kiss as he pinched her nipple gently before caressing down her body.

Holding onto his erection, George rubbed the tip up and down her wet slit. He traced circles around her clitoris with the tip of his penis, making her moan and sigh. Leaning up slightly, his eyes locked with hers. Smiling, George slightly pressed into her sex.

“George,” she gasped, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he kissed her. “I won’t go in all the way.”

Sita nodded, though grimaced as he pushed in slightly further, “You’re too…”

His lips touched hers again, “Oh, baby, you feel so good.”

He pressed against her virginal barrier, making her whimper. Understanding her unspoken declaration, he pulled out and went back to sliding his erection up and down her wet slit. Every few passes, he pressed his tip in until he reached her hymen. He wanted nothing more than to thrust fully forward, to feel her vaginal walls squeeze his cock. Instead, he swirled the crown of his cock around her entrance, feeling it get slick from her arousal.

“Sitaaaaa,” he moaned, “I need to…”

With her feet on the bed, Sitara arched upwards as his erection slipped down her wet slit. His eyes locked with hers as the tip of his penis pressed against her rosebud. She reached down and grasped her cheeks and relaxed. With a groan, George pressed the tip into her ass but did not thrust fully in. They remained locked thusly for a few long moments before he pulled fully out.

Sitara’s hands supported her position, pressing up on her lower back. Her green eyes watched as he quickly retrieved a tube of lubricant from the nightstand. With a smirk, he squeezed a bunch out, rubbing it all over his erection. Keeping a dollop on his finger, he returned to the bed. George moved between Sitara’s legs and gently worked his finger into her ass, rubbing the lubricant around.

Carefully he lined up between her legs and slowly thrust into her. She moaned as he found a slow rhythm. One of George’s hands covered her pubic mound, his thumb slipping between her petals to rub her clitoris while he thrust. His other hand reached up and squeezed her breast. She moaned and flexed around his cock.

“Oh god,” he groaned. “I’m gonna…”

“Me toooooo.”

A few more thrusts and George collapsed on top of her. His lips touched hers as he withdrew from her body. His fingers remained playing with her clitoris until her body rose in orgasm. Pulling his digits free, he slipped them between her lips, grinning when she sucked her fluids off of them.

“Tell me, beautiful,” he kissed her again, “when can I…?”

“Not until we’re married, George. I don’t want to get pregnant,” she stated.

“I know,” his hand casually cupped and caressed her breast. “But there’s ways we can avoid that…”

“No, George,” Sitara shook her head. “Not until we’re married.

He leaned over and kissed her again, “I love you, Sita.”

“I love you too, birthday boy,” she smiled. “Do you want to eat now?”

“Hmmm…. I suppose we should,” George captured her dark nipple in his mouth.

Sitara groaned, “George…”

“In a minute… I want to enjoy my appetizer a bit longer,” he returned to sucking on her breast. “God, I love you.”

“I love you tooooooo,” she moaned. “Ohhhh…”

No Buts

Sat, 24 Dec 2011 20:47:47 +0100

Title: No Buts
Characters: Sitara Barlow, GeorgeHarrison
Word Count: 691
Rating: PG13 [sexual tension, innuendo]
Warnings/Spoilers/Summary: George stops by to see Sita on Christmas Day. Spoilers. Inspired by Christmas is the Time to Say I Love You

December 25, 1970
London, England

Sitting in her living room in London, Sita’s green eyes darted to the clock. It was seven minutes until George said he would be there. In the months since moving to London at his behest — and into his flat — he had never been late when seeing her. Though she had absolutely no cause at all, Sita worried that he would not arrive. He had far too many responsibilities that day, his family and wife were more important than —

A knock at the door interrupted her worries.

Jumping to her feet, Sita smoothed down the front of her green silk dress and headed towards the door. Her fingers quickly tousled her hair before reaching for the doorknob. With a breath, she smoothly opened the door. Her eyes instantly met his and her face lit up with a smile.

“Happy Christmas, beautiful,” he spoke softly, stepping forward.

“Happy Christmas, George,” her hands slipped over his shoulders as his slipped around her waist.

Saying nothing more, his lips brushed hers as he carefully pushed her back into the apartment. Once the door closed behind him, George deepened the kiss, making her sigh. His thumb traced over her bottom lip after ending the kiss, his lips turning into a smile.

“You are so beautiful,” he remarked and kissed her quickly again. “You are all I could wish for this Christmas.”

“George…”

“Tell me, love… where is Kanti?”

“She’s out… with one of her boyfriends, maybe Donovan.”

“And when do you expect her to return?”

“You know how Kanti is…”

“Excellent,” he kissed her again.

“Did you just come over here to kiss me, George?”

“That,” his lips touched hers, “and other things.”

“What other things?”

George smirked, “Well…”

Seeing the light in his eyes, Sita rolled hers and pulled out of his reach. Saying nothing, she headed into the small galley kitchen. Without being asked, she quickly began to fix a pot of tea. Chuckling, George glanced around the apartment before sitting on the sofa.

“You do not have a Christmas tree,” he remarked.

“No, of course not,” she responded as she sat next to him. “Why would I?”

“I just thought…”

Her hand touched his knee, “That’s your tradition, George, not mine.”

“True…”

“How was Christmas with… Pattie?”

“Let’s not talk of that now,” he stated.

Before she could respond, the teapot’s shrill whistle echoed off the walls. Sita jumped up to retrieve it, but George’s hand snagged hers, keeping her from stepping away. Her green eyes flicked to his, trying to see what he wanted. With a smile, she quickly kissed him. Only then did he release her hand.

Sitting together once more, this time with cups of tea, George happily chatted with Sita about the activities from the previous few days. As their tea got cold, the musician slowly realized that Sita was melancholy. Moving closer to her, his lips touched her temple, very aware that she did not close her eyes or smile.

“Sita, my darling, what is troubling you?”

“Nothing…”

“You know I don’t believe that.”

She sighed and stood, heading over to the window, “George, what am I doing here?”

Jumping up, he circled his arms around her from behind, “Living your life, the way you want to.”

“No, really. Why am I here?”

“Because,” he swept her hair from her ear before kissing it, “I love you.”

Chills shivered down her spine, “Are you…”

“I am in love with you, Sita. I love you. Everything about you.”

“But…”

“Things will change. I promise you that. I love you. Hold onto that.”

She sighed.

George kissed her ear once more, glancing out the window, “Look, Sita, carolers.”

Her eyes fluttered open to settle on the group of people across the street from the apartment building, “What are they… what are they doing?”

“Going door-to-door, singing the festive songs of the holiday, spreading good cheer… and love,” he explained.

“George…”

“Christmas is the time to say ‘I love you.’ And oh, Sita, I love you.”

She sighed, leaning back against him slightly, “I love you too, George, but—”

“No buts allowed today. Just love.”

She sighed, “I love you.”

Candlelit

Sun, 14 Aug 2011 01:08:39 +0100

Title: Candlelit
Characters: Sitara Barlow, Kanti Singh, George & Pattie Harrison, George's extended family
Word Count: 2530
Rating: PG13 [sexual tension, innuendo]
Warnings/Spoilers/Summary: George invites Sita and Kanti to join him and Pattie at his parents' for Easter. Spoilers.

April 11, 1971
London, England

Stepping into the flat, Sitara grinned brightly. She did not say anything as she headed into the small kitchen. Filling a glass with water, she waited for her best friend to surface, knowing without a doubt that Kanti had been waiting patiently for her return. As expected, the pretty Indian woman stepped into the kitchen, her expectant eyes on the heiress. Feigning ignorance, Sitara focused on her glass of water.

“Okay, spill it,” Kanti spoke up.

Sitara glanced over the top of her glass, “Hmmm?”

“You look like the cat who caught the songbird.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Kanti folded her arms across her chest, “You were gone much longer than ‘just a lunch.’”

“Well.... George and I...”

“Wait, you were out with George?”

She nodded.

“Sita...”

“Anyways, he invited us to go to Liverpool.”

“He did?”

Sitara nodded, “We’re going to join him and Pattie at his parents’ for Easter.”

Kanti paused for a moment, “Do you even know anything about Easter?”

“Well no, not much, but I am excited to learn. And this will mean shopping with Pattie.”

Her eyes brightened, “Ooooooh. That is exciting.”

With Pattie and Kanti at the market picking up last minute ingredients for their contribution to Easter brunch, George sat with Sitara in her hotel room. His arm slipped around her shoulders, subtly pulling her closer to him. Her emerald green eyes flicked up to his and she smiled. Without hesitation, he leaned over and kissed her gently.

“I am so glad that you came with us,” he stated softly.

“You asked me to. How could I say no?”

His fingers reached up, lifting a curl from her shoulder, “I am sure you could...”

“I have never told you no,” she declared.

His eyes held hers, his brows arching up, but he said nothing.

“Outside of the bedroom at least,” Sitara added.

Chuckling he kissed her temple, “Sita...”

“George, you’re married. And I promised Pattie...”

“Promised Pattie?”

She quickly looked away, “I’m not sure what I’m more nervous about: meeting your family or attending your church.”

“They’ll love you, luv. You don’t have to worry about anything,” he assured her, though he was still wondering what Sitara promised his wife. “You’re lovely. They will all see that.”

“I hope so. Pattie helped us find appropriate dresses for tonight and tomorrow,” Sitara declared. “Do you want to see them?”

“Will you model them?”

“If you’d like...”

“I would,” he nodded.

Kissing him quickly, Sitara stood and headed over to the wardrobe where the garments were already stored. She pulled open the doors, blocking her body from George’s view. He heard the zip of a dress and leaned to the side, hoping to get a peek at her. Before he spied the Indian dancer, keys turned the hotel room lock, causing him to sit up and Sitara to close the wardrobe doors, still attired in exactly the same thing as before.

Hiding his frown, George got to his feet and quickly approached his wife, kissing her cheek, “Get everything needed?”

“I think so. There were a couple of items, we could not find, but Kanti had suggestions for substitutions,” Pattie responded, handing the paper bag to him.

“I am certain my family will appreciate it,” he nodded, glancing in the bag. “Anything that needs to be kept cold?”

“Um, I think so,” she peered into the bag. “Yeah, there is.”

“I will go put it on ice until we get to my parents’. You girls... do whatever girls do before going somewhere...”

Two hours later, attired in fashionable yet modest dresses, the two Indian women stood amongst wooden pews with George’s family. Though his parents, brothers, and their families seemed to take instantly to the two guests, Sitara opted to sit between George and Kanti. Pattie had warned her the Easter Vigil could last for hours and she wanted to not have to worry about what she might mumble during it.

With the church completely dark, symbolizing the beginning of the service, George’s hand discreetly folded over Sitara’s fingers, as Pattie held the lit service candle. Sitara wiggled her hand slightly, positioning it better to hold his, and passed her candle to her best friend. On Kanti’s other side, Harry explained softly what was happening as the deacon slowly proceeded down the nave towards the sanctuary. Sitara strained to listen, but quickly gave up and focused on the sensations traveling up her arm, centering on George’s thumb rubbing the back of her hand.

She bit her bottom lip and stole a glance at him as the deacon chanted the Easter Proclamation. While Sitara did not know the proper response to the chant, George opted to not chime in with the churchgoers either. Instead, he held her shy gaze for a long moment.

Through the long service, lit by the candles held by parishioners, George never released Sitara’s hand, except when needed during the service. He spoke in whispers with his wife, even kissed her temple at one point, yet still held onto Sitara. Kanti noticed, but knew better than to say anything, especially around his wife and family. If George chose to act thus, it was not her place to speak. She, instead, focused on the service, trying to understand what it was trying to teach.

Leaving the church long after sundown, Sitara attempted to suppress a yawn. Though the plan had been to return to the Harrison’s house together, George seized the opportunity of alone time with Sitara. He quickly excused them, convinced his wife to return to the house with Kanti who seemed to have taken up another debate with his older brother, and skirted the Indian heiress off to a waiting car.

Seated in the back of the car, George scooted as close to Sitara as he could. He wanted to loop his arm around her shoulders but resisted. Instead, his hand found hers again. Her green eyes boldly met his and she smiled sweetly.

“You don’t have to escort me back to the hotel. I would have been fine with your family for a few more hours,” she stated softly.

“I could not bear another few hours with them,” he smirked. “Besides, we have hardly had the chance to be alone this weekend.”

“Well your wife is with us.”

He reached up with his free hand, tucking her hair behind her ear, “Sita, you know things aren’t simple.”

“I know. And it’s even more difficult because I adore Pattie,” she responded, closing her eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t have ―”

“Yes, you should have,” he leaned over and quickly kissed her before they arrived at the hotel. “Come. Let us go upstairs.”

Sneaking into the hotel through a back door, just in case any Beatles fans discovered George’s location, the two hurried up the top floor. Sitara pulled her room key out of her small purse, glancing at George. His hand slipped into his pocket, feeling around for his own key. He turned his pocket inside out when he pulled his hand out. Her eyes dropped down to his empty hand as she pushed the door open and stepped aside.

He took two steps forward, quickly glanced both ways down the corridor, and leaned down. A quick smile graced his face before his lips touched hers. He stepped around her, pausing to remove his jacket as she closed the door.

“The service was... interesting,” Sitara stated as George helped her out of her jacket.

“You do not need to lie to me, Sita,” he responded, hanging both of their jackets in the closet. “It was dreadfully boring and overdrawn.”

“Well... perhaps. Hindi religious ceremonies are far more... vibrant and...”

He returned to her, meeting her eyes as he touched her cheek, “Beautiful.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘action-filled.’”

Saying nothing else, George once more leaned down and kissed her once more. Her hands slipped over his shoulders and she pushed up on her toes. His arms slipped around her small waist, pulling her closer as he deepened their kiss. Ending the kiss once they ran out of breath, George pecked her lips once more before allowing her down from her tiptoes.

“You were so gorgeous lit by all those candles tonight.”

She flushed, “You were supposed to be paying attention to the priest.”

“I could not help it,” he smiled slightly and guided her over to sit on the bed. “Your beauty, Sita...”

“George...”

“We have a few... hours of privacy...”

“Sweetheart,” Sitara met his eyes, “now is not the time for―”

“It is a time of new beginning, a resurrection of faith and love,” he declared, leaned over and kiss her neck.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed, “George, we should not...”

“I love you, Sita,” he muttered, his hand gently running down the front of her dress, hesitating from cupping her breasts.

“George...”

Leaving Sitara’s room an hour later, George lit up a cigarette and leaned against the wall next to his own room’s door. Staring down at the floor, he hid his smile with a puff of his cigarette. He did not know how long he was going to wait for his wife to return to the hotel, but he did not particularly care. The night was already filled with bliss; he could wait as long as needed.

Her green eyes lifted as George’s mother sat beside her. Though she seemed to fit in with his family nicely, she had not expected to be alone with her. Discreetly, she glanced around for George, Pattie, or even Kanti, but all were occupied in other discussions. Instead, she smiled at Louise, wondering what the older woman was thinking.

“I truly enjoyed your rice dish. George has spoken often of your culinary prowess, but I had not expected... it was simply marvelous,” she declared.

“Thank you. I would like to thank you for welcoming Kanti and myself to Liverpool. It has been quite a weekend full of new discoveries, “ Sitara responded.

“I was delighted when George informed me of your joining us for Easter. I have always enjoyed your company, Sitara.”

“And I yours,” she smiled slightly.

“I would love to show you the garden. Have you seen it this year?”

“I have not.”

“Come along,” she grabbed the young woman’s hand and stood.

George watched in interest as his mother led the Indian beauty out of the buzz of the family. Though he wanted to intersect their walk, he stayed where he was, half-involved in a conversation with his sister-in-law. No one else seemed to notice the two departing. Perhaps it was nothing for him to be concerned about.

After a brief walk through the garden, with Louise pointing out her new plantings, the two women came to a stop some distance from the house. Sitara instantly felt her nerves rise and silently scolded herself. She had known Louise since her arrival in London. There was no need to feel anxious with George’s mother; none at all.

“May I ask you something?” the older woman met her eyes.

“Of course, Louise.”

“Do you love my son?”

Sitara did not blink, “I do. He is a very dear friend.”

“We are alone, Sita. No one to hear your words but me and God.”

“I love George. I will not deny that. Ever.”

“Even if his wife asks?”

She paused for a moment, “Even if Pattie asks.”

“I do adore Pattie, as you know, but I am very fond of you. I can see that my son... George is very taken with you. I thought perhaps...” she turned away, pacing along the garden.

Sitara instantly understood she was to follow. Saying nothing, she joined Louise.

“I thought perhaps his infatuation with you would lessen once you relocated to England, that perhaps the intrigue was the distance and the exotic appeal of India,” she declared. “But I have not seen that is the case.”

“No?”

“Not in the least. If anything, I would say the exact opposite has happened.”

“I see,” she responded evenly, hiding her emotional reaction to his mother’s declaration.

“It is a... difficult thing for George, I am certain. He is loyal to his wife ― to some extent. But his eyes belie his feelings towards you.”

“I...”

“I saw him looking at you during the Vigil last night,” Louise pointed out. “I have never seen such... passion before.”

“Louise, I don’t know...”

“I am not asking you to do anything. In fact, he is the one who needs to figure out his heart,” she stopped, turning to Sitara. “But it does make a difference in my mind and heart that you feel as he does.”

“I believe I do.”

“Then my heart is eased,” she smiled.

Not knowing how to respond, Sitara merely smiled in response.

The older woman reached for Sitara’s hands, squeezed them once, and then turned to head back towards into the house, “Oh look, the children missed an egg. George so wants children, but five years of marriage and Pattie has not conceived...”

Biting her bottom lip, Sitara picked up the missed egg. Not feeling that it was her place to say anything, she remained silent as she followed Louise back to the house. The older woman did not stay on the topic long, instead pointing out other plantings on their walk back. Though no longer nervous to be alone with Louise, Sitara found herself feeling more confused than before. Had George’s mother blessed their forbidden relationship? Had she suggested Sitara should bear his children?

Pushing her questions into the back of her mind, she pressed the found egg into the youngest of George’s nieces and nephews’ hands. The child giggled happily, thanking her for the Easter present. Trying to focus on the moment, on absorbing the Western holiday, Sitara smiled and moved through George’s family until she found Pattie.

Meeting the model’s eyes, she smiled and hugged her, kissing her cheek. Pattie embraced her as well, before inviting her into the conversation with one of George’s uncles. Remaining by her friend’s side, she caught George’s questioning eyes from across the room. Sitara merely smiled reassuringly at him before responding to a question asked of her. If being with George meant she would see his family often, at least on major holidays, then she was even more grateful to be there ― even if the future may mean severing her friendship with the woman at her side. She only hoped if that happened, George would be resurrected in the eyes of his family.

She would hate to be his Judas kiss.

Magic of Lust

Sun, 14 Aug 2011 01:06:52 +0100

Title: Music of Lust
Characters: Donovan Leitch, Sitara & Geoffrey Barlow, Kanti Singh
Word Count: 3726
Rating: NC-17 [language, alcohol, sex]
Warnings/Spoilers/Summary: After the retreat at Rishikesh, Donovan ends up as a guest at the Barlow estate. As its his birthday, Sitara throws him quite the party... and the fun lasts until dawn.

May 10, 1968
Jaipur, India

Seated under an awning draped with brilliantly colored sheer silks, Donovan lazily chatted with Geoffrey. Though he had only been staying with Sitara’s family for a week, he certainly felt welcome, even a part of the family – which in his mind was a great feat considering all of the drama that occurred in regards to Rishikesh. He had a mind to ask what had changed the tea magnet’s mind towards Sitara’s foreign friends, but he also did not care to upset the current status quo, especially as they were hosting a birthday celebration for him.

Bearing a tray with fancy tea cups on it, Sitara made her way towards the men. Her every movement tinkled musically, due to the small bells on her ankles and the hem of her skirt. Remaining silent, she sat the tray in front of the two men before picking up one and handing it to Donovan. Smiling as he accepted, she remained dutifully silent and took a step backwards. His eyes remained focused on her as she demurely cast her eyes downwards.

“Thank you, Sitara,” her father spoke after sipping the tea. “Is the entertainment almost ready?”

“Yes, father,” she replied.

“Very well,” Geoffrey nodded. “As you were.”

She nodded and turned, retreating back to the house. In the week he had been there, Donovan had never witnessed such behavior. He understood that a Barlow party for any reason seemed to be an excuse for Geoffrey to entertain anyone important in Jaipur, but he did not like the relegation of Sitara to the role of a servant. Knowing better to rush right after her, he sipped on his tea and continued conversation with Geoffrey and his guests, waiting for the appropriate moment to slip away.

Excusing himself to visit the loo, Donovan headed into the mansion. Rather than head to the nearest restroom, he turned in search of Sitara. Knowing the house fairly well, he reached the women’s quarters quickly and reached for the door. Before his fingers could circle the handle, it opened.

“Kanti,” he smiled slightly.

Her eyes widened and she stepped out, closing the door behind her, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him away, “You can’t be here.”

“Why, love?” he asked softly. “I’m just looking for Sita.”

“Oh no,” she kept pulling him away from the entrance to the women’s quarters. “You especially can’t see her.”

“Why not?”

Kanti rolled her eyes, “Haven’t you learned anything yet?”

“What?”

She shook her head, “You can’t be going in there today. And you can’t be alone with Sita today.”

“But–”

Her lips quickly touched his to silence his words, “You just can’t. Now go back outside and sit down.”

“But –”

She kissed him again, “Go back outside. Sita cannot give you your gift if you are not out there.”

He sighed, “Okay, but I don’t like this.”

“It will all be all right in the end,” Kanti declared, kissing him one final time. “Go.”

With some hesitation, Donovan turned away and headed back outside. He hoped whatever was going on would change once the night fell and some, if not all, of the guests left.

After a few theatrical and musical performances leading up to the sunset, Donovan pushed his negative thoughts about Sitara’s treatment from his mind. When she suddenly appeared on the back porch, surrounded by other dancing girls, a bright smile lit his face. He was quickly swept up by her dancing performance, though he had no idea what she sang and danced about. As her dance ended, his head spun, though the wine he drank could have contributed to that. He understood how George had felt the night of his birthday celebration. Donovan knew Sitara did not dance for just anyone.

Seemingly once her performance ended and she changed from her dancing garments, she was allowed to attend the party. A number of the guests left after praising her dance, leaving a small lingering core. When Donovan approached Sitara, no one interrupted or looked at him with disdain. No one even seemed to care when he complimented her dance, flirted with her, or any of his interactions. He was beginning to believe Kanti overreacted.

“Come,” Sitara stood, her hand held out to him, “and walk the gardens with me.”

Not even glancing at her father to make certain it was acceptable, Donovan slipped his hand into hers and followed her away from the lingering party guests. They weaved through the gardens, pass monkeys and birds that hardly lifted their sleepy heads to glance at the humans. She stopped some distance from the party, tugging him to sit on a bench under a tree.

“I apologize for not spending much time with you today. As hostess… and a woman… it was not my place to be…”

“Sita,” he freed his hand from hers to touch her cheek, “you are above being a servant.”

She rolled her eyes, “I wasn’t a servant today. You must not have noticed that I onlyserved you. That’s what any hostess would do.”

“But –”

She quickly kissed him, “Enough worrying, birthday boy.”

He smirked, “Do you and Kanti talk about the best way to shut me up?”

She giggled, “Maybe.”

His eyes focused on hers, “You are so beautiful.”

Her eyes dropped to the ground and she flushed, “Don…”

He tilted her face back up to his and kissed her softly, “Beautiful.”

Biting her bottom lip, she looked away briefly, trying to find some balance once more. Donovan remained as he was, watching her. He knew she was fighting her emotions, her feelings towards him. He was certainly cocky enough to enjoy it. And with George back in England… His hand dropped from her chin and rested on her knee, gently rubbing the silk of her skirt.

Her eyes returned to his, “I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

“Remain here,” she instructed, stood up, and hurried away.

His eyes went to the stars and he smiled. He had a slight buzz from the evening’s wine… or whatever it was they had been drinking since sundown. The pretty dancing girl sought his affections, away from everyone else. If only his birthday gift included her best friend and nudity, Donovan would surely never forget this birthday.

Returning with a small package, Sitara sat down next to him again. He stole a kiss from her lips before accepting the gift. Removing the silk scarf and happily looping it about her neck, Donovan opened the small, hand-carved wooden box and smirked. Inside were six, white, hand-rolled cigarettes. He did not have to pick them up to know they were not like her father’s cigars.

“Ah, how well you know me,” he grinned and plucked one from the box.

“It is really just a… pre-gift,” she stated, reaching into the lid of the box for a match to light his joint.

“Oh?” he responded before leaning back and inhaling the acrid smoke.

“The rest is inside. I’ll give it to you… later,” Sitara stated.

Rather than press her for whatever it was, he looped his arm around her and pulled her closer. He smoked two of the joints, back-to-back, sharing a bit of the smoke in a forbidden kiss with the dancing girl. She giggled a bit more readily, a thin veil separating them dropping away with her slight intoxication. She did not even protest when he cupped one of her breasts while snogging.

“Shall we… go… in?” she suggested between kisses.

“I think… yes,” he agreed.

They headed back towards the house, holding hands until Sitara could hear her father’s voice. She paused just outside the reach of the light of the candle lanterns, kissed his cheek, and instructed him to go to his room as soon as he could. She would bring his present there. Curious, Donovan wanted to rush directly to his room, but lingered with the few businessmen still socializing with Geoffrey after Sitara bid good night and left with a flutter of her skirts. Once he deemed it acceptable to excuse himself, Donovan thanked his host and turned in for the night.

Enjoying another of Sitara’s joints, Donovan barely had the chance to sit down before a knock sounded at his door. Getting back up, he crossed over the room to answer the door. He smiled as his eyes met Sitara’s before flicking down to the tray in her hands. Saying nothing, he stepped aside, motioning her in. Before he turned to close the door, he quickly stole a kiss from her and then allowed her to continue on with the tray of tea.

“Uh uh. Not so quick,” Kanti spoke up as he closed the door.

He stepped aside, holding the door open still as the older woman stepped in, carrying some sort of instrument in a case. Letting the women get settled, Donovan closed the door and leaned against it, smoking. Kanti set the case on his bed and returned to him. Without hesitation, she plucked the joint out of his fingers and took a couple of deep puffs before returning it. Refusing a kiss, she motioned at the case.

Stepping over to the bed, Donovan snapped it open. His mouth dropped open slightly. Inside the case rested an intricately painted sitar. His fingers cautiously touched the instrument, though he did not pick it up. Kanti and Sitara stepped up on either side of him; the younger handing him a cup of tea.

“Sita, this is beautiful,” he muttered and sipped the tea.

“You deserve to have your own. I saw you playing George’s whenever he’d let you,” she stated, her eyes focused on his face.

“Thank you,” he smiled.

Not entirely in the mood to play, he handed his cup to Kanti and closed the case. He accepted his cup back after setting the instrument aside, sat on the bed, and sipped the warm liquid once more. As it danced over his tongue and down his throat, Donovan realized it did not taste quite like anything he ever tasted before. He brushed it aside, as he was in the home of one of the larger tea magnets in the world, and instead glanced at the two women flanking him.

Feeling a weird sensation wash over his body, Donovan handed the teacup to Kanti before leaning in to kiss her. She returned his kiss with as much passion for a moment, before breaking away to set the teacup down. As she stepped away, he turned his wavering attention to Sitara, pulled her brusquely to him, and kissed her deeply. She smiled in the kiss and pressed him backwards onto the bed.

Her body began to grind against his as her mouth continued to battle his. With a sly smile, Kanti moved around the room, turning out all but a single, dim lamp near the bed. Feeling the weight of an additional body press down the bed, Donovan pulled out of the kiss with Sitara. A breath later, Kanti’s mouth crashed into his. Sitara moved to his other side and began to kiss his neck. He was in heaven between the two beautiful women. Focusing on Kanti’s kiss, he did not notice Sitara’s lips leave his skin until the kiss ended and another cup of tea was pressed towards him. Drinking it dutifully, he smiled when Sitara kissed and licked the dribbles from his lips.

Though he was not aware of it happening, Donovan suddenly realized Kanti no longer wore a top. Before he could sit up to kiss and cup her breasts, Sitara leaned across him and did exactly what he planned to do. His eyes widened, his smirk turned into a grin, and he folded his hands under his head to watch the two women. Sitara’s mouth left Kanti’s breasts and kissed her mouth. The older woman’s hands danced up her back and unzipped her top. Kanti ended the kiss to lavish the same attention on the heiress’s breasts.

With his loose cotton pants clearly tented with his erection from watching the two women make out over him, Donovan slowly sat back up. Each hand cupped one of the women’s breasts, his thumbs tracing their pert nipples, as he sloppily tried to kiss both of them. With little grace, he laid back down, bringing Sitara down with him, still locked in a kiss. As the younger woman remained to his side kissing him, the older one carefully removed his pants. Donovan groaned into his kiss with Sitara as Kanti began to kiss and lick and suck on his erection.

Though he did not understand how, both women were suddenly completely nude, save for various bangles and jewels. His mouth kissed and nibbled any caramel-colored skin he could, feeling two pairs of lips dancing over his naked body as well. Feeling a moan against his stomach, he glanced down and groaned himself. Sitara was making her way towards his cock, but stopped as she was overcome with emotion. Kanti’s mouth licked and plundered the dancer’s sex from behind. He wanted so badly to be inside one of the women, but he did not want to interrupt their lovemaking either.

“Kanti,” he mumbled, drawing her eyes up to his.

He knew he did not need to say anything to her, that she would read the desire in his eyes. She stopped sucking on Sitara’s wet sex and quickly kissed him, leaving the sweet, musky taste of her best friend on his tongue. Her lips kissed quickly to his ear.

“Do you want me or do you want her virginity?”

He groaned, unable to voice a response as Sitara’s mouth circled his cock. Kanti glanced down and smirked, doing and saying nothing for a few moments, enjoying Donovan’s groans at Sitara’s actions.

Her eyes went back to his, “Me or her.”

“Oh fuck, I don’t…. uhhhh…”

With a flurry of activity, the women switched positions. Not saying a word, Kanti sank down onto his erection as Sitara practically sat on his face. Donovan needed no instructions and quickly began to kiss and lick her sex as her best friend gyrated on top of him. The two women kissed and fondled each other breasts, soft moans passing their lips every few breaths.

Unexplainably, Kanti no longer rode his cock. A moment later, Sitara reached her orgasm, coating his chin and mouth with her honey. Suddenly, she no longer sat astride his face but lay on her back beside him. Kanti leaned over and kissed his wet mouth, her hand briefly stroking his cock.

“Now… take her,” she breathed against his mouth.

With a groan, Donovan rolled away from Kanti and on top of Sitara. He held her legs open and pressed forward, the tip of his cock slipping into her wet entrance. Gently pushing into her tight body until he felt resistance of her virginity, Donovan looked down into her eyes for encouragement. She smiled up at him just as Kanti moved behind him and kissed his neck. With a groan, he thrust forward, pushing deep into her body. She gasped in pain, but at Kanti’s urging, he did not stop moving. Soon the room filled with the music of lust as three bodies winded around each other.

“Ohhhh… I’m gonna…” Donovan grunted as he thrust into… someone’s body.

He felt fingers pull him out of the tight, wet, warm sheath clutching him. Those same fingers danced up and down his glossy cock. With a few throaty grunts, his body tensed and shot white sticky streams. Only once the fingers stopped dancing on his cock did Donovan roll onto his back and glance at his two lovers. Both women quickly leaned over and kissed him, before turning their attentions back to each other. He turned on his side and smirked, watching the two women lick his semen off each other. A groan passed his lips as they shifted to lick and finger each other to orgasm.

Watching their erotic actions, Donovan’s cock once more became tumescent. With little pause, he straddled Sitara’s head and thrust into Kanti’s body. She moaned into Sitara’s sex but continued to lick and thrust her fingers into her friend’s slippery body. With Sitara’s tongue lapping at Kanti’s sex and his own alternatively, Donovan quickly orgasmed. His cock barely had a chance to soften as he moved away for Sitara’s tongue quickly lapped up his milky mess from Kanti’s sex.

He knew it was going to be a long night. And perhaps the best birthday ever.

Waking closer to dinnertime than breakfast, Donovan groaned. His head felt as if outweighed his entire body, held down by his thick, dry tongue. Ever so slowly, he rolled out of bed and headed over to the dresser where a tray with a teacup rested. Automatically lifting it to his lips, despite knowing it was long cold, he sipped the remainders of the liquid.

And promptly spat it back into the cup, a grimace on his face.

Whatever the tea had been, remaining untouched overnight had not done it any favors. It was bitter and musty, almost like a strong piece of hash. Deciding a quick toke of the joints given to him the night before by Sitara would chase away his hangover from hell, Donovan turned on the lights and searched his room for the small wooden box. Finding it on the nightstand, he lit up a joint and inhaled deeply before glancing around.

His eyes landed on the sitar in its case resting against a small armchair and he quickly smiled. It had been a very thoughtful and likely expensive gift. He would have to thank Sitara once more, as soon as he was presentable. Glancing down at himself, Donovan’s brows furrowed. He could have sworn he was naked upon falling asleep. In fact, he was certain he had been naked with the two Indian beauties upon sleeping. He had notgone to bed in his pants.

Joint perched between his lips, he approached his bed. His eyes quickly glanced over the bedcovers as he shifted them about, looking for any sign the women had been there with him. Specifically, he was looking for the stain from Sitara’s lost virginity. All he saw were white stains on the cotton sheets where he had woken.

Concerned, he quickly dressed while finishing the joint and hurried out of his room. Without pause, he slipped into the women’s quarters, certain he would find Sitara somewhere in them. He passed through half a dozen rooms before discovering her outside in her courtyard, painting a flower in the nearby garden. Kanti lounged on a pile of pillows nearby, idly thumbing through a book.

Clearly his throat to gain their attention, Donovan stepped out into the courtyard.

Sitara looked up first, “Good morning – or should I say afternoon? – Donovan.”

“Good morning, love,” he responded, stepping closer. “Quite a night we had, no?”

“It was a splendid party. I’m glad you had a good time.”

His hand gently rested on her shoulder, massaging it slightly, as he softly muttered, “I meant the after-party.”

Kanti sat up, her interest piqued, “What after-party?”

He glanced over at her, “Last night… in my room.”

“We brought you the sitar and some tea. That wasn’t much of an after-party,” she commented.

“Didn’t we…”

“You drank half a cup of your tea and were out like that,” Kanti snapped. “It took both of us to get you properly in bed.”

He glanced down at Sitara, “You mean we didn’t…?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Kanti and I left you in your bed and went to bed ourselves.”

Donovan’s hand left her shoulder and he paced away, trying to connect his memories with what the women were claiming. It could not be true. At all. It was all so vivid. He could practically feel Sitara’s tight body clenching around his as he thrust into her. His body was even beginning to react to the memories. It had to be true.

“But last night,” he turned to face the two women once more, “you and you and me… we…”

“Nothing,” Kanti declared. “I was hoping to fool around for a while, after Sitara left, but you were completely out of it. So I went to bed with her.”

“With her?” his eyes brightened.

Kanti rolled her eyes, “Not like that.”

“Oh,” he paused. “So we didn’t… you know?”

“No.”

His eyes went to Sitara, “And we didn’t… you know?”

She flushed, “No.”

“But… I vividly remember…”

“Nothing happened,” Kanti stated again. “Nothing at all.”

“But… then… why…?” he sat on a stone bench, sighing.

“You can’t hold your liquor,” the older woman suggested.

“I’ve never had issues before,” Donovan claimed.

Kanti’s eyes flicked to Sitara, noticing she had been very silent for the past few minutes. Deciding her best friend had some idea as to the root of Donovan’s problems but finding it enjoyable that he seemed so out of sorts, she remained silent. The Scottish musician continued to mumble incoherently for a few moments, seemingly trying to figure it out on his own.

Unable to bear it any more, Sitara left her easel and sat on the bench next to Donovan, grasping his hand, “Remember when we first met and I asked you about your funnycigarettes?”

“Vaguely,” he replied.

“And I told you that we don’t really smoke it here, but ingest it otherwise?”

He nodded slightly, “Kinda.”

“Last night, in honor of your birthday, I brewed you a cup of bhang. I increased its potency, thinking it would be needed because of your smoking, or else you would not feel anything from it at all. I did not consider you would be drinking with my father most of the night or that you would smoke three joints prior to the cup,” Sitara explained softly. “And then you drank the tea more quickly than I would have recommended, even without those other factors. I… I am sorry, Donovan. I did not mean for it to… I apologize.”

The Scottish musician stared at her for a moment before grinning. His hands surrounded her face and he kissed her quickly. Sitara stared at him, confusion all over her face.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize,” he declared, pausing. “That was the single best trip I have ever been on. I want to do it again.”

Indian Stars

Sun, 14 Aug 2011 01:05:35 +0100

Title: Indian Stars
Characters: George Harrison, Sitara & Geoff Barlow, Kanti Singh
Word Count: 4280
Rating: PG-13 [kissing, smoking, partial nudity]
Warnings/Spoilers/Summary: George is still in India, after escaping there to spend Valentine's with Sitara. Sitara throws a day-long party for him, which may even top the Maharishi's party of the year before. Canon with my epic. Contains spoilers.

February 1969
Jaipur, India

Lying on crisp white sheets in George’s hotel suite, Sitara smiled as his fingers gently rubbed up and down her spine. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly as she kissed his chest. He did not regret escaping London, and by extension the band, after the rooftop concert to come and be with Sitara. He had not really intended to spend so much time in India, but leaving her side seemed impossible. Therefore, he remained, ignoring pleas to return to England from the band, managers, lawyers, and even his wife. He was happy with the beautiful dancing girl in his arms. Happiness was so hard to get by these days. He was not letting it go.

“George?” she muttered, her breath dancing on his chest.

His fingers found hers, weaving his fingers with her delicate light caramel-colored fingers, “Yes, beautiful.”

“Are you happy?” her face pivoted up to his, her green eyes locking with his brown eyes.

“Right now with you, I am,” he responded without pause.

She smiled slightly, “That I can tell, but I mean overall. Your letters… and phone calls…”

“Of course I am.”

“I do not believe you.”

“Of course I am,” he repeated.

Sitara stared at him blankly, remaining silent.

George pulled away from her and rolled out bed, leaving the Indian beauty lying in bed in her panties. Glancing sideways at her as she propped her head up with her hand, he shook a cigarette from the pack, slipped it between his lips, and lit it up. He inhaled a few tokes deeply as he paced about the suite. His dark eyes glanced out the crack in the curtains, into the Indian night, before he turned to look at her. Still lying propped up on her stomach, Sitara was quite the vision. Her long, dark hair curled lazily about her shoulders, a few escaping over her chest to dust her pear-shaped breasts. A jade-colored bindi glittered in the center of her forehead, reminding him of her dinner apparel hours before she snuck from the house to come with him. He had not asked why she kept that adornment, but removed her fancy clothing and jewelry for the simple black attire she preferred when slipping out from her house. He knew the red bindi indicated marriage, so perhaps keeping the jade jewel was a subtle reminder that she did not really belong to him? He did not know.

He could not lie and declare he hated how she refused actual intercourse with him. Though he certainly wanted her that way, George admired how steadfast she was in her declaration of no sex without marriage. A little over a week ago was the first and last time she was without panties around him. Every stolen moment since, she would touch, kiss, stroke, and even suck him, but never would her panties slip off her hips. He knew she wanted his touch and more, as he did touch her with the silken garment still covering her pubic mound, but still she refused him. George respected that, perhaps loved her a little more.

However, that was not what she asked. She asked if he was happy. He meant it when he said he was when he was with her, because every moment with the Indian beauty hewas happy. No longer finding happiness in the studio with the band, no longer finding happiness in his marriage with Pattie, no longer finding happiness with his small bungalow Kinfauns house, George could not actually say that he was happy.

Grinding out his cigarette, he headed back over to the bed, sitting on the edge, “No, I suppose I’m not.”

She turned on her side, “Why not?”

He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, inadvertently exposing her breasts fully, “All the things that should make me happy… don’t. I’m happiest when… I’m away from it all, to be honest. I’m happiest when I’m here with you.”

“Well what are you going to do about it?” she asked softly.

George leaned down and kissed her deeply, pushing her back onto her back, “Be with you forever?”

“I’m certainly not opposed to that,” she smiled at him. “Be with me right now is enough.”

“Sita…” he kissed her again.

Her eyes flicked to the clock next to the bed. With a grin, she pushed him up enough to turn them over. Sitara quickly showered his face with kisses until he smiled. Straddling him still, she sat up fully, her sparkling eyes down on him.

Confused at her actions, George asked, “What, love?”

Sitara quickly leaned down and kissed him, leaning back up before his arms could circle around her waist, “It is now officially your birthday, at least here in Jaipur. How shall we celebrate?”

His pointer finger reached to the hollow at the base of her throat and slowly traced down between her breasts. He paused when he reached her sternum. Flattening out his hand as much as possible between her breasts, he closed his eyes and felt her heart thump against his palm. His mouth twitched in another smile, finding his heartbeat quickly synchronize with hers. She leaned down, forcing his arm to bend at the elbow. Her lips softly touched the corners of his smile. His other hand quickly circled around the back of her head, pulling her close to deepen the kiss. His fingers released her hair as the kiss came to a natural end, allowing her to sit back up. His hand remained on her chest.

“How shall we celebrate your birthday?” she repeated.

“I wish… I could be with you during light of day, not just hidden away at night like this,” he declared.

“Well then,” Sitara quickly pivoted off him and reached for her black clothing, “I should go then.”

“Wait, what? No,” he reached for her.

She stepped out of his reach, pulling her blouse over her head, “I need to be leaving soon anyways.”

“But you normally stay until dawn,” George pointed out.

“I normally,” she quickly kissed him before pulling on her loose cotton pants, “don’t have a million things planned for the following day either.”

“You do?”

She grinned, “It won’t be anything like your birthday last year with the Maharishi, but I do hope you enjoy it.”

He paused for a moment, “You have a day of activities planned for me?”

“My father said nothing at dinner last night?” she pulled her shoes on.

“If he did, I did not hear it over my focus on you.”

Sitara smiled again and kissed him quickly one more time, “Try and get some sleep, George. You need to be at my house for breakfast.”

Stealing away Sitara after lunch, George escorted her to a quiet location in the gardens, with Kanti near as escort. Glancing to make certain they were out of view of the house, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her happily before guiding her to sit on a stone bench. They sat side-by-side for only a moment before he could not resist and pulled her into his lap. His lips touched hers again, but did not linger.

“How did you manage to pull all of this off? I was under the impression that your father does not like me,” George stated.

“He is just wary of your intentions with me,” she responded. “He doesn’t not like you, George.”

“My intentions with you are honorable,” he declared.

“He knows you’re married, George.”

He instantly frowned, “Sita…”

“Anyways, this isn’t about that. Father agreed to it because of the same reason the Maharishi liked to show you guys off in Rishikesh last year. And because he loves a good party,” she explained.

“Are all Indian birthday parties an all day thing?”

“No,” she nuzzled him. “You are a person of honor in this house, that is why the party will last many hours.”

George eyed her suspiciously, “What more is planned, beautiful girl?”

Sitara winked, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Sita, George,” Kanti spoke loudly, though did not approach the two.

“I’ll show you to a room where you can rest,” she got out of his lap.

“What? Why?”

“You should nap, darling,” she touched his nose before he stood up. “It will be a long night if you do not.”

With her best friend still attending them, the couple headed back to the house, passing by people tearing down tents and setting up other platforms. George’s steps slowed as he tried to figure out what was going on, but Sitara tugged on his hand, motioning to the house with her head. Shaking his head, he followed her into the large Indian mansion. They hurried down a tiled hallway to an ornate door before stopping. Sitara dropped his hand and opened the door, pushing it open wide but did not step into the room. George briefly glanced in, but his gaze did not settle on the opulent room. Instead, his eyes settled on the beautiful woman in front of him. With no one but her best friend, who well knew the nature of their relationship, he quickly gathered the young woman in his arms and kissed her.

“George!” she gasped, pushing weakly on his chest.

He kissed her again before releasing her, “How long must we be apart?”

She smiled brightly at him, “A few hours. Someone will come escort you back to the party in a few hours.”

“Not you?”

“Not me.”

He frowned, “But why not?”

“Because,” she glanced quickly around before stealing a quick kiss. “Go rest. I will see you soon.”

Before he could say anything else or worse, gather her back into his arms, Sitara stepped away and hurried down the hallway with her best friend. George stepped into the center of the hallway, watching the two women walk away; wondering if either would give him any indication where Sitara’s rooms were. In all of his visits to her home, he was always kept in the most public of spaces and had no clue where the Indian beauty slept at night. However, before he could really get any idea of the girls’ destination, a group of young boys and girls stepped into the hall behind the girls, obscuring his view of them. Once they dispersed, Sitara and Kanti were no longer in sight. Sighing and shaking his head, George stepped into his appointed room and closed the door. If the deluxe breakfast, yoga session in the gardens, massage, and opulent lunch indicated anything, music, food, and laughter would fill the night. He had been right the night before; Sitara brought him happiness.

Seated next to Geoff, as the guest of honor, George wondered where his girl was. As he had been informed, a young man retrieved him from his quarters, where he was astonishingly able to nap, and led him back outside to the gardens. Though there was no threat of rain that evening – nor would there be until the monsoon weather during the summer months – gauzy, multi-colored canopies had been erected throughout the garden, providing places for fragrant garlands and warm glowing votives to hang. Platters of all kinds of delicacies circulated about as musicians played on a platform off the side of patio.

George kept up conversation with Sitara’s father, but his thoughts and eyes continued to wander about, looking for any indication as to her whereabouts. He did not even see Kanti among the guests. Did his girl still sleep? He could not imagine Geoff allowing Sitara to sleep through the birthday meal. Perhaps there was something wrong. Maybe she had fallen ill in the hours apart?

Before George could voice his concern, the musicians finished their raga and let silence fall over the gathered partygoers. George’s dark eyes left the tray in front of him and glanced about, settling on the musicians. Apparently awaiting his attention, the leading musician nodded to his fellow players. They set down instruments and picked up others. Intrigued, George set down the fruit in his fingers and sat up straighter.

“You are in for quite a treat, Mr. Harrison. If I may say so myself,” Geoff grinned. “We all are.”

The lights in the house and on the porch went out, leaving only the candles in the garden illuminating the party guests. A heavy, scented smoke filled the porch, obscuring view of the house and any who stepped out of it. George closed his eyes for just a moment and inhaled the incense. When his eyes fluttered open, a bright light shone from the house, silhouetting her body in the smoke. His heart stopped. He knew exactly what was about to transpire: Sitara was going to dance for him.

“This is different than what she danced a few days ago,” her father muttered, setting down his beer. “I did not expect…”

Wearing a sheer white sari that she pulled over her head like a veil, Sitara started the song with a few sung words, peeking out from under the veil. As she pulled it back, she got to her feet and moved backwards, her hands and body moving with the rhythm of the song. Her top and skirt were also white, embellished with silver and gold embroidery and beading. Gold, silver, and diamond jewelry adorned her wrists, ankles, throat, nose, and ears. A smile teased George’s lips as he noticed one of her bracelets was a gift from him.

As Sitara danced and sung, George felt himself pulled into her world. He did not understand the words leaving her lips, had not even remembered that she sang, but he was completely entranced. Though he could feel her father glance at him, George said nothing, his attention remaining completely focused on the dancing girl. As she twirled about in her full skirt, he was a bit surprised to find she did not wear the long slim pants to conceal her legs. Instead, she wore what he could best describe as pedal pushers, not short-shorts, but not pants either. That glimpse of her calf when she danced about the back patio, utilizing the different levels to tell her story, seemed far more seductive than the current fashion of miniskirts in London – and he did not know why.

Midway through the dance, other girls joined Sitara in her performance, wearing similar outfits but in different colors. He appreciated the contrast of their dancing as much as he would the backing tracks on an album. Sitara was the true star, however. The other twelve dancers could not even touch her sparkle.

Colored chalk dust added another layer to the dance, blown by the additional dancers. George’s eyes dropped to Sitara’s feet. He smiled again as she quickly danced through the colors, her toes dusted with rainbows. Her eyes only settled on his, sending glittering sparks up and down his spine. He could feel as if something monumental was to happen that night; he just did not know what.

As the music and dancing abruptly stopped, George quickly got to his feet, grinning and clapping along with the other guests. He quickly approached Sitara and without thought, embraced her, kissing her cheek. Her eyes widened and quickly dropped to the stone floor underneath their feet, but she did not speak. Realizing his mistake, he stepped back, hoping no one had seen his transgression.

“That was beautiful, Sita,” he muttered softly.

Her eyes fluttered back up to his, “I am glad that you enjoyed it.”

“What does it… mean?”

“I shall tell you later,” she smiled. “Let us join my father for dinner.”

After many hours of entertainment, food, and smoking, the partygoers thanked their host and headed home. Even as the midnight hour approached, George did not indicate he was returning to his hotel suite – nor would the Barlows have allowed it. Surprisingly, Geoff wished both well for the night, leaving them in the garden alone. Seeing the patriarch enter the house, Kanti jumped forward to volunteer to attend the couple.

Geoff shook his head, glancing out the window, “Worry not, young Kanti. He will not transgress with my daughter on my property. You can leave them be.”

“Are you certain, Śrīmāna?”

He nodded, motioning her away from the window, “Leave them be, Kanti, and prepare for bed.”

“Yes, Śrīmāna.”

Waiting a few moments to see who would attend them, Sitara’s mouth dropped open in slight surprise that no one joined them. Not about to argue against it, she stood, offering her hand to George. With a smile, his hand slipped into hers and he stood. Hand-in-hand, the pair headed away from the house and into the night-blooming garden. Neither spoke, uncertain how to bridge the gap from being surrounded by busy partygoers to being alone.

Eventually the two sat on the ground, his arms pulling her close. They remained just like that, looking up at the sparkling stars. He did not understand it, but the stars seemed brighter in India. Perhaps it had something to do with the woman in his arms.

“My eyes met my lover’s/Who know what will happen next? My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what will happen next?” Sitara softly declared.

Figuring that she was translating her performance, George remained silent.

“The world has brought down the stars to the earth/But my mind is unattached/This wonderful Diwali is here, but without him present/ My mind thirst for a meeting/ My beloved, my anklets call/ My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what will happen next? My eyes met my lover’s/ Who knows what will happen next?”

He squeezed her gently.

“In the evening, on the edge of the river, I fill my water pot and walk in such a state/In the evening, on the edge of the river, I fill my water pot and walk in such a state/And when I saw you, my bangles tinkled/My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what will happen next? My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what will happen next?”

His foot tapped slightly to the rhythm in her translation, finding music even in English.

“My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what will happen next? Holi has come, bringing all colors/ Without you, though, even Holi is not pleasing/My friends are spreading color all over me/My sari and my whole body are wet/And my body is shivering, my body is shivering. My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what happens next? My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what happens next?”

His lips touched her still adorned ear.

“When the moon shines at night, my body burns for you/ I ask the moon not to come here, unless you are here, too/ When the moon shines at night, my body burns for you/ I ask the moon not to come here, unless you are here, too/ Come only when my lover comes/ Shine only that night when our bodies and mind shall unite/ My eyes met my lover’s/ My eyes met my lover’s/ Who knows what happens next? My eyes met my lover’s.”

George remained silent for a moment, in part, to be certain her translation was complete, in part, to allow the words to sink in. A smile teased his lips. He understood why her father tensed during the performance. However, if Geoff was worried, why allow them privacy now?

“Can you see why I danced it for you?” she asked softly.

He leaned back, allowing her to pivot in his embrace, “I certainly do. Your father was not… pleased. He expected the same dance you danced on his birthday.”

She rolled her eyes, “You have already seen my Sattirya. And I wanted something special just for you.”

“He knew the performance, though.”

“Of course he did. It is from a movie that came out in 1965, called ‘Guide.’ I do not have talent to write music like you do, George,” she declared.

One hand left embracing her to caress her cheek before he quickly kissed her, “And yet he allowed us to be alone now.”

“I know. He must trust that you will not sully his daughter’s reputation in the gardens of his house,” she teased.

“How little he knows me,” George kissed her again, this time lingering a bit longer.

“Or perhaps after many months, he has finally decided to trust me again.”

“Enough to let you go back to England with me?” he quickly responded, a note of hope in his voice.

Sitara chuckled, shaking her head, “I highly doubt that will ever happen again.”

“But–”

“Let’s not bring down the night with such talk,” she interrupted and kissed him quickly. “Have you enjoyed your birthday?”

“You have made me feel like a king – no, a maharaja,” he winked.

“Oh really?”

“That would make you my maharani.”

“No, that would make Pattie your maharani,” she argued.

Both fell silent for a moment.

“Sitara, you know I love you.”

“I do.”

George kissed her softly, “I want to be with you, as a man is with his wife.”

“We cannot.”

“But–”

“I know that there are many ways to keep from conceiving a child, George. Even if you had not tried that argument before, I would know. That is not the point.”

“Then what is?”

She sighed, pulling out of his embrace, “If I were to give you my virginity, I would have to marry my uncle.”

His mouth dropped open in shock, “What?”

“I would be deemed unsuitable to marry and thus given to my mother’s brother to marry,” she explained. “Presuming my father defects to my mother’s family’s customs, as he often does since we live here.”

“First of all, your virginity is none of your father’s business. Even if it was, he could not… that is outrageous,” he declared, getting to his feet. “We’re leaving. You’ll come back to the hotel with me tonight and tomorrow we will leave for London.”

“George,” she reached up for him but did not stand, “we’re not going anywhere. Just sit and relax with me.”

“But–”

“Sit,” she tugged on his hand. “My father has given us leave to be out here on this beautiful night. Let us not squander it.”

“But–”

“Sit with me, George,” Sitara requested again, softly.

Sighing, he sat back down and pulled her into his arms, “That’s just wrong, Sita.”

“I don’t disagree, George, but until I can circumvent that, we must abide by his rules and expectations.”

“But–”

“Do you like your tanpura? I know you already have a sitar, so I commissioned it especially for you,” she stated.

George blinked, “That was your idea? Your father made it sound like it was his idea.”

“Of course he did. That’s his way,” Sitara declared dismissively. “Do you like it?”

“I do. I haven’t an idea how to play it.”

“I will show you… later,” she did not move to get up. “I suppose it is similar to the sitar, though it is more of a drone instrument.”

“It is beautiful and very thoughtful of you.”

She nuzzled him, “I know better than to shower you with fancy things. You have money enough to buy your own racecar. A gift should be something of your interests and from the heart.”

“That means so much to me.”

“And I have already given you my heart and soul…”

George pulled her closer and kissed her. Though beginning innocently, their embrace heated and deepened. Slowly he pressed her back against the warm ground, both shifting their position to accommodate the movement. His hand moved down from her cheek, gently caressing her neck, before cupping her breast. He felt her heart race and her nipple tighten. George wanted nothing more in the moment than to slip their clothes off and make love to her under the glittering Indian stars.

However, her recent declaration of what could happen should they cross that boundary shot through his mind. With a sigh full of regret, George pulled away, rolling to lie on his back next to her.

“I would die before allowing that to happen.”

“Uh, what?” she turned on her side, facing him.

“You marrying your uncle.”

Sitara quickly kissed him, “That is not going to happen, George.”

“But…”

“You’ve had a long day. Let me escort you back to your room,” she declared, pulling away and standing up.

“I… okay,” he got to his feet as well.

Before Sitara could step away, George pulled her close in his arms and kissed her deeply. She smiled at the end of the kiss and kissed him again. Wiggling free of his arms, she headed deeper into the gardens, leading him in a very circuitous route back to the house. He noticed another walled-in garden near one side of the house. Without asking, he had a feeling that was Sitara’s own private garden.

“Some day…” she muttered softly as they entered the house, “I hope to show you things…”

“Like?”

Sitara stopped in front of the ornate door, “Places men do not step in this house.”

“Is that where you go now?”

She winked, “Perhaps.”

“Stay with me tonight,” he blurted out.

“Oh how I would love to, but we both know I cannot,” she responded. “Tomorrow though, unless you travel to see Ravi…”

“I am not going anywhere without you.”

She glanced around quickly before gently kissing his mouth, “Good night, George. And happy birthday.”

“Good night, beautiful girl. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, kissed him once more, before turning to flee down the hallway.

George watched her leave for a long moment. She turned and looked back once, flashing him a bright smile, before disappearing from sight. Oh, he loved her. He loved her more than anything, even music.

Lingual Exploration

Sun, 14 Aug 2011 01:03:32 +0100

Title: Lingual Exploration
Characters: George Harrison, Sitara Barlow, Donovan Leitch, Kanti Singh
Word Count: 5,226
Rating: R [drugs, sexual situations]
Warnings/Spoilers/Summary: George and Sita are thousands of miles apart for this lover's holiday, but that does not mean they won't celebrate it. Donovan happens to be out wandering the world again, and happens to stop by to see Sita. Set a year in advance of the epic, so there are spoilers.

February 1969
With over five thousand miles between them, George bemoaned the fact he could not hold and kiss Sitara that day. He had hoped to get out of the country to see her, but band responsibilities kept him firmly in London. Attempting to head to the airport after the rooftop concert failed him. He was stuck in England; she was stuck in India. While he could have brushed it off as if she did not know much about the holiday, he knew he could not just be lazy about it. Just because she was sheltered in India did not mean she was completely clueless. Besides, by then she should have received his letter.

After stopping by the studio early in the morning but not staying for more than a few minutes as Paul was there, George headed back home. He greeted Pattie vacantly before heading into his room. Without pause, he picked up the phone and dialed through to India. Though a patient man, he could not stand the lag in connecting to the Jaipur house.

“Namaste.”

Recognizing the voice instantly, he smiled, “Namaste, Meena. Is Sitara available?”

There was a long pause, “Did you send her flowers?”

He grinned, “Perhaps.”

“There is not enough room in her quarters for what you send her.”

“Oh yeah?” he slipped a cigarette into his mouth and lit it. “She was only supposed to receive a dozen.”

“Then perhaps you should discuss how many are in a dozen next time, Mr. Harrison.”

He chuckled, “I will consider that. Can I speak with her?”

“Please hold.”

Grinning, he sucked on his cigarette and propped his feet up on the desk. The number of flowers, though not yet confirmed, did not surprise him. He had ordered a dozen of every color available at the florist. Perhaps, he should have specified which flower when placing such an order. He wondered what flower filled her rooms.

“Hello?”

“Hello, love.”

“George! Thank you for the flowers!”

“I wish I could give hand them to you in person, perhaps with a song or two.”

She giggled slightly, “I do not think you could carry so many flowers.”

“Ah, Meena was not being hyperbolic then?”

“Every surface of my room has flowers on it. It smells like a slice of floral heaven in here.”

He smiled again, “I wish I could share it with you.”

“Perhaps sometime soon.”

Her words instantly lifted his hopes and he sat up fully, his feet returning to the floor, “Are you going to be in London soon?”

“No… I do not think so. I would like to, but… you know he will not let me leave.”

“But, love, it was months ago. Has he not relaxed?”

“Oh no. Not at all. I am still not even allowed out in town without his appointed guards.”

He frowned, “Slip over the fence?”

“Only if you were waiting to catch me on the other side.”

“I can be there in,” he glanced at the clock, “a few hours. Meet me at midnight?”

She did not respond, keeping completely silent.

“Say the word and I will meet you over the fence at midnight.”

“That’s an all day flight, George, if you can even find passage on one. I really don’t think – ”

“Baby, I’m a Beatle. It will happen.”

She sighed, though she was grinning, “Then over the wall at midnight.”

“I will see you tonight, love.”

After hanging up with Sitara, George quickly rang the office and informed them of his immediate need to get to Jaipur. With a pleased smile, he finished his cigarette before standing to go pack for his sudden trip to India.

Lounging in her gardens, peacocks roaming about, Sitara turned another page in her book. Completely restricted from the outside world, she once more relied heavily upon books. George sent her at least one a week, though she always finished it in a couple of days. Book after book in her own library had been flipped through enough times that she now resorted to slipping books out of her father’s library when he was not looking. If not for visitations by girls known to her father, by her father’s permission, she would truly feel as if she was locked inside a prison, not palatial walls.

However, that day she did not expect any visitors – save for George’s secret night meeting. When one of her maids approached, she instantly presumed her father sent for her. Pressing an envelope into the spine of her book, Sitara closed it and sat up properly, waiting for directions.

“Mistress, you have a visitor. Shall I bring him to you here?”

“He?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Shall I escort him here?”

“Who is he?”

“He says he is a friend of yours.”

“I see,” she set her book on the nearby end table. “Invite him in. We will take tea out here.”

“Yes, mistress,” she bowed slightly and hurried off.

Curious as to whom her visitor could be and certain her father would not like a male visitor, Sitara ran her fingers through her hair, untangling her soft curls. While she would have liked to hurry back to her room to truly fix her appearance, her finger styling and brushing the shallow wrinkles from her silk dress would do. Her visitor would have to forgive her, as he was truly unexpected.

“Why hello, beautiful girl,” a soft and very familiar greeted, drawing her eyes up from her skirts.

With a grin, she jumped to her feet, “Donovan!”

They embraced happily, his lips brushing hers. Surprised to see him, she found words did not tumble from her lips. Instead, her hand folded over his and she tugged him to sit with her on the chaise bench.

“I did not know you were in India,” she commented softly, her fingers spreading his out in her hand.

“I am on a bit of a wander-about,” he remarked.

“And that somehow brought you here?”

“No,” he lifted her hand to his lips. “Your beauty brought me here.”

She flushed slightly and pulled her hand free, “Stay for tea?”

“I would love to.”

Sipping tea, the two told stories of the past few months since their last visit. Though he often called and sometimes wrote a letter, they did not communicate as often as she and George did, giving them many topics to discuss over tea. Donovan brushed her fingers when reaching for tea and sought out other excuses to touch her. Sitara noticed every touch, but said nothing.

His hand grasped hers once more, as the tea service was removed an hour later. Without anyone near to see them, he tilted her head up and kissed her lips gently. Sitara smiled but pulled away before he could deepen the kiss. Freeing her hand from his, she stood and moved to a different seat. Not to be put off, Donovan followed her to the new seat. He glanced around and immediately noticed their new seat concealed them from view of the house behind a flower-filled screen.

With a smile, Donovan’s hand rested on her knee as he leaned over and kissed her temple. Her eyes fluttered close, her lips parting. His hand traced up her thigh, softly rubbing as his lips gently kissed towards her mouth. As she relaxed, he continued to rub her leg and deepened the kiss. Sitara’s hand went to his shoulder, her fingers tightened slightly as his touches continued.

“Don…” she breathed as his lips moved to suck on her earlobe.

“Yes,” he nibbled gently.

“You should…”

His hand nudged her legs apart and cupped her sex, “Yes?”

“Ohhhh…”

He grinned and kissed her mouth deeply again, “What should I do?”

“Ohhhh… you should… stop.”

His hand left her sex and moved to her hip, pulling her to the edge of the bench. Her green eyes remained focused on him as he knelt in front of her. Not entirely sure what he was doing but feeling as if her body was on fire, Sitara did not protest. Smiling up at her, Donovan’s fingers gripped the bottom hem of her skirt. His hands dipped under the silk fabric, his fingertips caressing her legs. Slowly, he continued up. Still smiling, he leaned down and kissed her exposed knees. She gasped as his fingers pushed further up, revealing her toned thighs.

“Don…”

He leaned forward and kissed her soft thighs, “Yes?”

“I…”

Donovan inched her skirt up a bit more. His eyes left hers and flicked down to the juncture of her thighs. Biting his lip, one hand caressed up her thigh and shifted over to her panty-covered sex. A soft moan left her lips as his thumb pressed down into her warmth, searching for her clitoris.

“Dono…”

“Mistress!” her companion, Kanti, suddenly appeared.

Sitara gasped and pulled her skirt down, not caring that Donovan was still between her legs, “Kanti!”

“Sorry, Sita,” she muttered, looking away with a deep blush as Donovan returned to sitting properly next to Sitara. “Your father…”

“What does he want?”

“You… dinner…”

“Excuse me?” she snatched her hand away before Donovan could grasp it.

“He is having a potential suitor over for dinner,” she quickly answered, still avoiding looking at the two. “You need to plan the menu and dress appropriately.”

Sitara frowned, “And if I do not want to?”

“Mistress…”

“Fine, fine,” she stood. “I will do it. But Donovan will attend as well – as my guest.”

Donovan smirked, but said nothing.

“Of course, Mistress,” the young woman looked to the Scotsman.

“Don,” Sitara turned to his, “I need to go take care of things. I hate to leave you alone for… awhile, but Kanti can see that you are kept company.”

“Oh really?” his eyebrows arched up, his gaze quickly appraising the maid.

“I shall try to be speedy,” she declared, her fingers turning his face to hers. “Try to behave yourself.”

“Whatever do you mean, love?”

Sitara quickly kissed him, “I will see you at dinner.”

As her father continued to entertain the father of her would-be suitor, Sitara grabbed Donovan’s hand and led him out into the garden. Pulling him as out of the light of the house, she dropped his hand and began to stroll casually through the night garden. Flowers that normally did not bloom during sunlit hours filled the gardens with sweet, soft fragrances. Her long fingers trailed down, catching petals as she continued to walk. Keeping a few paces behind her, Donovan fished out a hand-rolled cigarette and lit it.

Reaching the end of the path, Sitara turned and met his eyes. A soft breeze lifted the scent of his smoke to her. She smiled crookedly, knowing full-well he did not smoke tobacco. He slowly approached her, stopping close enough to easily kiss her. Lowering his joint to the side, he leaned forward and did just that, the tip of his tongue gliding briefly over her lips.

“I am sorry about this evening. I know you did not come here to be subjected to Indian courting,” she stated softly.

“It was intriguing,” he stole another kiss. “But moreover, you are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she flushed slightly. “Was Kanti good company?”

“Oh the best.”

“Oh?”

He inhaled his joint deeply, “She was very energetic and eager to please.”

Sitara eyed him suspiciously, “You had sex with her.”

“Who me? No, never.”

She playfully pushed his shoulder, “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” he responded seriously.

“And I do not believe you, but it matters not. She will tell me.”

He stared at her and inhaled one of the final puffs of his joint, “Will she now?”

“We tell each other everything. She is my best friend.”

“Everything?”

“Mmmhmmm,” she responded and turned away from him, moving over to a stone bench. “Everything.”

“So then,” he sat beside her and discarded what little was left of the joint before placing his hand on her knee, “she should not have been surprised to find us in the garden earlier.”

“Perhaps…” her hand covered his, keeping it from wandering.

He leaned over, kissed her ear, and whispered, “What naughty things have you talked about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sitara replied dismissively, her eyes closing.

“Do you talk about sex?” he whispered.

“Don…”

“Sitara!” an older woman called.

Sitara pulled abruptly away from Donovan, “I’m sorry. This is good night.”

He groaned, “But–”

“It has to be. There is no way around it.”

“Sneak out and meet me.”

Her eyes flicked to the house, “I can’t. Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Sitara!” Neela called again.

“I have to go. Now. Good night, Don. I hope to see you again, though I understand if you must wander on tonight,” she quickly kissed him. “Good night.”

Leaving the singer in the garden, Sitara hurried back through the garden, her bells and jewels softly clanging in the darkness. Donovan sighed and waited until he no longer heard her. While he had not truly expected to get anywhere with the Indian beauty, he still hoped, which is what drew him back to her repeatedly. Now that he was acquainted with her best friend, things could become far more interesting. However, that would have to wait for another visit.

Seated in the middle of her large bed, her legs folded under her, Sitara giggled as Kanti pulled a comb through her hair. Left alone for the night, the two girls chatted about the courting meal. Between the two of them, there was no way Sitara would marry the son introduced that night; but no one expected her father to accept. Ever since the virginity testing the year before, he continued to threaten to marry her off, but it never actually came to fruition. That suited the two girls just fine, as Kanti would attend Sitara no matter where she lived.

“So tell me,” she turned around as the other girl set down her comb, “did you and Donovan…?”

Kanti’s eyes went wide, “No! I would never! He wants your affections, not mine.”

Sitara rolled her eyes, “You can tell me, Kan. You know that.”

“Well,” she sat on the large bed next to her best friend, “we did… touch and kiss… but I would not allow him to put his lingam in my yoni.”

She gasped, “Did you see his lingam!?”

“Maybe,” she flushed and looked away.

“Oh tell me more!”

Kanti shook her head, “I will not.”

“Please! Surely he would wish me to know.”

“I will not say another word,” she glanced at the clock. “Besides, we must get you out of here. You do not want to make George wait for long.”

Sitara’s green eyes flicked to the clock, “Oh my! It is already past midnight.”

“Come,” Kanti stood, holding her hand. “Let us change and then you can be off.”

Attired in a simple black dress with minimal embroidery and no mirrors or metallics, Sitara followed Kanti out of her bedroom. With the maid leading her, she silently walked down the hallway, hoping to make it outside without being noticed. Though she snuck from the house with some frequency, it always made her nervous to weave through corridors and hide in empty rooms while others passed. On nights where her father entertained, it became more difficult as guests were difficult to predict.

Yet that night the girls escaped to the gardens without incident. Tiptoeing through the flowers and around trees, they arrived at the back fence. Kanti climbed up the tree first, checking around to make certain it was safe for Sitara to venture up. Satisfied, she climbed back down and hugged her friend, whispering that it was safe and she would wait for her return.

Carefully climbing the tree, Sitara glanced back down at her best friend before scooting over the large branch hanging over the stone fence. She sat on the branch for a moment, her eyes searching the darkness for anyone lingering near the fence. She sawno one, not even George. Her lips curved into a frown, certain he had not been able to pull off his great feat. Sighing, she moved to stand and head back over the fence.

A familiar whistle froze her where she stood. Slowly, she pivoted, green eyes searching for the whistler.

“My, my, my, what a pretty bird up in this tree,” an accented British voice spoke.

“George,” she breathed, her eyes connecting with his.

He dropped his cigarette, stomped it out, and held his hands up to her, “I promised to catch you.”

With a smile, she carefully slipped off the tree branch and landed in front of him. His arms quickly circled her, pulling her close. Grinning, her hands slipped over his shoulders and she kissed him briefly. His dark eyes searched hers briefly, before his lips went to hers again. Sitara’s arms tightened around him as she pressed up on her toes to deepen the kiss.

“I didn’t think you would actually be here,” she muttered, her breath dancing on his lips.

“I’m a Beatle, baby,” he winked. “Where shall we go, my beauty?”

“I… I am not sure.”

“Take me to your favorite place to escape to?”

Her eyes searched his face, “Are you sure you are not too tired from being on a plane that long?”

“I got some rest, love,” his fingers reached up and caressed her cheek. “Show me your world.”

Nodding, her hand slipped down his arm and into his hand. Silently turning away from the fence, Sitara pulled him away from the house. They did not speak as they strolled along in the darkness. He glanced around, observing everything they walked by. While he had walked midnight streets with her before, it seemed different every time. Even knowing the area around her house during daylight hours, he was uncertain as to their location, but it did not matter. He was with her; that did matter.

They strolled down the streets and found a rickshaw, heading towards the Pink Square. Though he had been to the eye-catching square with buildings constructed from pink and red sandstone at different times of day, usually with Sitara, he had not gone in the dark of the night. She guided him to Hawa Mahal, the Palace of the Winds. Never passing beyond the fences into the building, as it was intended for women only, he only knew the building from afar. That was all about to change.

“Sita…” he breathed.

“Shhh,” she stopped, turning to kiss him quickly, “you wanted to see one of my favorite places to escape to. This is it.”

“I…”

“Come. I will show you inside,” she whispered.

Circumventing the metal fences and the guards as well, though they could have been slipped a few rupees and stepped aside, Sitara led him into the building via the entrance near the rear. With no lamps or candles lit nor any light fixtures turned on, moonlight filtering in through the lace-like latticed windows provided the only illumination. An airy magic seemed to imbue everything. Without pausing to glance out the carved windows, which once serviced the royal ladies of the house, the couple continued down empty corridors to sloped ramps. George wondered where she led him, but said nothing, waiting for the reveal.

They reached the top floor without impediment from any guard that may have been protecting the 18th century building. Sitara did not pause to allow George to glance around, but rather continued on to the highest terrace. Releasing his hand, she stopped and turned to face away from the building. Joining her, he too turned to face as she did. His mouth fell open in awe. Though the darkness of after-midnight subdued the view, George was amazed at the vista before them. The hills, gates, and trees of Jaipur stretched as far as the eye could see. Turning he could see where the pink square ended and the tan buildings of the next block began, albeit it with some difficulty in the night light.

“Sita…”

Her fingers slipped into his, “It is a beautiful view, even without the full light of the moon.”

“I…”

“I will try to bring you back during the light… or perhaps we will still be here at sunrise. It is absolutely beautiful to watch the sunrise over Hawa Mahal,” she commented softly.

“I would like that.”

Her eyes turned to his and she softly kissed his lips, “I still cannot believe you came all this way, just to see me.”

“I cannot believe I ever let you come back here,” he turned fully to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I should have fought to keep you in London…”

She closed her eyes, stepped closer, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. His arms tightened slightly, understanding without words what she was indicating to him. He kissed the top of her head, silently vowing to himself that he would rescue her from her gilded prison once-and-for-all as soon as he could.

Slowly Sitara unwound from his embrace, “Do you want to see more of the palace?”

“Can we?”

“We’re not supposed to, but we can,” she winked.

“By all means, my love,” he pulled away and motioned for her to lead the way.

They descended the ramps to the courtyard in the center of the palace complex. With little pause, Sitara headed towards the one part of the palace George likely never would have seen otherwise. Saying nothing, she ducked into a large building, leading him past screens that obscured the entrance. George noticed that she moved about with ease, almost as if she had perhaps lived in the building at one point.

“What is this place?” he muttered, drawing her attention.

Stopping under an intricately carved archway, Sitara turned to face him, her hand resting on the pillar, “These are the quarters of the royal harem.”

His heart fluttered at her statement, “Oh really?”

Noticing the flash in his aura, Sitara smiled and nodded. George stepped closer, smiling when she did not retreat. With a smile, he leaned down and kissed her. With a soft sigh, Sitara’s hands pressed against his chest, her fingers curling slightly around the light fabric of his shirt. Tempering himself as much as possible, George pushed her backwards beyond the archway. With some measure of grace, he turned her, guiding her into a room with a brilliant stained glass window, his mouth never leaving hers.

His hands slid down the curves of her body and cupped her ass as they neared the window. With a happy sigh, he lifted her onto the small window ledge, grateful the window was open to the courtyard below to allow such a perch. Her glittering green eyes looked into his as he leaned out of the kiss. The desire in his eyes reflected back in hers.

“Sita… I want…”

“I cannot…” she softly declared. “Not until we are married.”

He groaned, “But–”

“No.”

George kissed her sweetly, hoping to convince her with his kisses and touches, “May I… may I touch you?”

Her eyes held his for a moment. Biting her lip gently, she nodded. Groaning a soft thank you, he leaned in and kissed her again, his fingers gently tugging her black silken skirt up to her knees. As his tongue gently played with hers, his fingertips began to caress her bare knees, disappearing under her garment. Featherlight touches rubbed up her legs, far enough to brush across her sex – her naked sex – as his hands rolled over her hips to cup her ass. His body tensed at the realization she wore no panties underneath her dress.

Eyes closing, her hands left his shoulders and slapped down on the windowsill. As her long fingers curled around the stone ledge, Sitara sighed into George’s kisses. His hands roamed back over her hips, returning to her silken thighs. Finding no resistance, he gently parted her legs, gaining access to her flower. While one hand remained on her thigh, his other hand cupped her sex, gently massaging it. Her mouth left his, a soft moan slipping from her parted lips as his middle finger slipped inside to find her swelling bud.

His teeth nibbled along her jawline to her throat. He kissed her pulse, feeling it quicken as he began to gently rub and tease her body. Smiling against her flesh, his own body responded to her soft moans and sighs. Oh how he wanted to push his pants down and bury himself in her hot body. Her denial made him insane, increased his desire for her. He needed to be inside her, more than anyone ever before.

“Sita… please,” he requested softly.

She groaned, unable to verbally respond. However, she shook her head. He had not worn down her defenses completely.

Leaving her swollen clitoris alone, George slipped his finger into her slippery sex. He stroked in and out of her quickly, pressing against her walls. Unable to penetrate her deeply due to her virginal membrane, he was still intent to bring her orgasmic release. Maybe then she would allow him release as well. He shifted his hand, allowing his thumb to press against her bud as his pointer finger began to press in her as well. She gasped, moaned, and wiggled, but did not beg or even ask for more.

Meeting her desire-filled eyes briefly before kissing her deeply, George desired more than just touching her. With a smirk, he pulled out of the kiss and squatted. His hand left her thigh and rubbed his engorged member briefly while he withdrew his fingers from their shallow penetration of her body. Leaning forward, he kissed her petals before parting them to reveal her hidden bud.

“Ohhhh,” she moaned as he began to suckle and lick her body.

With his fingers touching her and his mouth working on her sex, Sitara felt her body began to tense. Her legs left the windowsill, resting briefly on his shoulders before tightening slightly around his head. George chuckled in the middle of his task, but did not stop. He needed her honey to coat his tongue almost as much as he wished it to coat another part of his body.

Her moans became louder, echoing off the empty stone walls. Perhaps centuries before, silken tapestries and wall hangings absorbed sighs and moans of pleasure, but they, like the harem, were long gone. If any guard walked the grounds, surely the sounds of the lovers would alert him or perhaps he would shrug it off as the spirits of the palace past. However, no one interrupted the two lovers.

His other hand released his still-clothed cock in order to reach up and grope her breasts. He pinched and rolled her swollen nipples, feeling her body arch to his mouth and his touch. Her gasps increased, her moans too breathy to qualify as moans. She was figuratively and literally on the edge. And George loved it.

With a half moan, Sitara’s body stiffened in orgasm. Her sex gushed honey and quivered around the barely inserted fingers. Her legs loosened their grip of his head, falling limply back to his shoulders. She continued to breathe erratically, trying to find solid reality once more.

Lips covered with her juices, George stood and kissed her hungry mouth, letting her taste herself on his tongue. Without his request, one of her hands left the windowsill and cupped his cock, gently rubbing the soft cotton fabric of his loose pajama-like pants against his sensitive body part. He groaned against her mouth before devouring her with his kiss. His hips pressed forward, trying to thrust more of his erection into her grasp. She clutched and rubbed, and while pleasurable, it was not enough. He needed more.

“Sita,” he breathed, “I need to feel you.”

“I cannot,” she refused. “If I were to get pregnant…”

“Please, baby,” he groaned, the tip of his covered cock briefly pressing against her still-exposed and wet entrance. “Please.”

“George,” she whispered, gently pushing his cock back with the hand wrapped around it, “I cannot.”

“Sita…”

Not responding verbally, Sitara pushed away from the window, her hand still holding him. As her skirt fell back in place, she guided him backwards gently. She kissed him deeply as she released her erotic grip of his member. With both hands free, her fingers pushed up his long cotton shirt and slipped under the waistband of his pants. She tentatively touched his erection, smiling when he gasped at her soft caress.

Pulling fully out of the kiss, Sitara knelt before him, both hands circling and stroking him. Looking up at him with large eyes filled with affection, she held his sex, leaned forward, and licked his entire length. George inhaled sharply, struggling to watch her lingual exploration of his tumescent penis. Her tongue swirled around his crown after a few lollipop-like licks. Winking up at him playfully, Sitara’s lips enveloped his head. With her fingers stroking his shaft, she sucked gently, her tongue sweeping around him.

As his arousal was already nearing peak before she began to suck, it did not take long for his body begin to tense. He attempted to warn her, but all verbalizations came out muddled and lost in moans. Grunts passed his lips as his body surged forward, pressing a bit further into her mouth to release. He gushed into her mouth, making her eyes widen slightly. However, her lips remained fastened around him as he pulsed.

Carefully he pulled away as her hands released him. Dribbling a bit on her lips, George frowned, not wanting to leave a telltale stain on the front of her dress. Before he could do anything, her finger caught it and she sucked her finger clean. George groaned at the sight and nearly did not pull his pants back in place.

“Sita…”

She slowly stood up, smiling sheepishly at him, “I hope that was…”

His arms quickly enfolded her, “I… love you, Sita.”

“I love you, too, George.”

“Come and… show me more of this marvel before I lose my ability to keep my hands off you,” he commented softly.

“Okay,” she smiled slightly. “There are a few other places I want to show you before the sun comes up.”

“You’re not worried about getting back home before the sun comes up?” he asked softly, his hand slipping into hers before she headed from the room.

“Not really. Kanti will cover for me,” she responded, “as usual.”

“Remind me to thank her again.”

She glanced at him, “Do you intend to come see me during daylight hours?”

George nodded, “I will be here a week. I plan to spend as many hours with you as you will allow.”

“It is not my allowance you need to worry about, but rather my father.”

He stopped and abruptly pulled her to him, his lips touching hers, “No one will keep me away from you, Sita. Thousands of kilometers could not. I will not be subjugated to his will. I will call on you during the day and spirit you away at night, if you will allow me.”

She grinned, “I want nothing more, George, than to be with you.”

“Then it will be so,” he stated and kissed her again. “Oh and Sita?”

“Yes?” her eyes fluttered back open to look into his.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”