The next time was a riskier affair. And I mean that second word in every sense.


Linda, the kids and I were staying in a hotel where, incidentally, there was a party where it was rumoured John would be. I was determined to avoid him for the sake of my marriage, but it wasn't to be; I just went into the ground floor toilets and...

I'm standing at the urinal, pissing, when he arrives. It's then that I realise why I haven't seen him already; obviously he was waiting for the most inappropiate moment to drop in.

"Hey, there, buddy." A fake American accent with just a hint of a druken giggle.

I fight the urge to spin around and thus wee on my designer shoes, which is what he was hoping for. Can't let him win all the time. Finally he comes to me, standing beside me and staring shamelessly.

I zip myself up before he gets any ideas, and move to the sink to wash my hands. "Hi John," I say, guardedly, not trying to show that this is actually kind of exciting and my heart's going wild just at the thought of hearing my real name again.

"What a place for the Beatles reunion, ey?"

I glance around. They're quite classy bogs, actually, as befits a five-star hotel. "I dunno. I've seen worse. Besides, it's not a proper reunion unless you've got George and Ringo stashed away in those cubicles."

He grins. "Nah, but it's the first time I've seen you since the split."

"No it's not."

"What?"

"Ringo's party? Six months ago?"

"Don't remember..."

"You came on to me." I glance around the empty room, nervously as always. Hey, it may be legal now, but I don't exactly want any journalists writing stuff about Paul 'cause of me. "You kissed me."

He shoots me a predatory smile and moves a few steps closer, his fingertips grazing up my arm, breath on my lips...

I grab his arm. "John..." I can't think of anything to say. 'I don't want it' would be a lie. "No." I finish lamely, sounding like I'm talking to Martha, and make for the door.

"Goodbye, Paul" He says loudly. I wince, and leave.

~