Chapter 6
Tala slowly lowered a leg into the warm water, then the other, and sank gratefully against the wall, letting the water lap around her. She leaned back, and closed her eyes. She let the scent of sandalwood envelope her and she tried to drift off. Instead, she began to feel a pain in the back of her throat and tears stung her eyes. It felt like a dam finally breaking against its barrier and the hot tears fell. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around herself and began to sob. The grace with which she tried so hard to deal with the situation had crumbled and she was spinning into a world she knew nothing about. Her feelings were out of reach, unfixable and all she could do was cry. She hadn't felt this way since her father died, totally out of control.
She tortured herself, thinking of how it would be without George, without speaking with him, without feeling him, without ever seeing him again. Was she being punished, to meet him, only to have him taken away? The grief shook her, made her quiver with wracking sobs. She never thought it would come to this, never had she expected to be weeping like child over something such as this.
She cried for a long time. The tears would subside, then she would think of something else she would never do with him again and fresh tears came. Slowly, the crying stopped, but she would still sob, little sobs that caught in her throat and made her shake. Finally emotionally exhausted and with nothing left to cry she sunk back against the wall and raised trembling hands to run water across her face. George was supposed to come today, and she couldn't let him see her in such a state, but she was glad she cried. A weight, though small, had been lifted. Thinking of him suddenly inflamed her passion for him and she felt a desperate need to be with him. This wasn't like her either, to need a man in such a way, but she couldn't help it. After a few more moments in the water, she stood, and got out, and wrapped a towel around her body. She wrung out her hair and let it fall, wet down her back. She walked from the room and sat in the dayroom, leaning against the pillows. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, chanting silently.
How long it had been, she didn't know, but her body was tense, waiting for George. Shuffling at the door ripped her from the depths of her mind and she rose quickly. He walked in, smiling. She went and threw her arms around him and buried her head in his shoulder. He smelled fresh and felt warm. She rubbed her cheek against his neck and kissed him there.
"George Sahib," she whispered huskily.
"Tala?" he asked, pulling her away to look at her. She took his hands and led him to the meditation room.
"What's wrong, love?" he said, frowning.
She said nothing, but let the towel drop from her body and pressed against him. She slipped her hands under his shirt and grazed his skin. She lifted it and kissed his stomach, then fiddled with the button on his jeans. He took his shirt off and waited for her to unzip the jeans. When she did he hadn't time to pull them off, she took his hands and pulled him down with her on the mats. She kissed him hungrily, running her hands through his hair, rubbing her legs against his. He kissed her neck, sending little shocks of pleasure through her. She yanked at his jeans, pulling them down, then caressed him, rubbing. He gasped and parted her legs and thrust inside of her. She threw her head back and dug her fingers into his skin.
She felt wildly possessed, and arched her back and moved her hips to command the movement and demand that he meet it. He braced his hands above her and groaned, thrusting into her hard, moving faster. Everything seemed blurry in her eyes and she felt separated from what they were actually doing. Madness had blinded her and it was only sensation now, the sweat and hard movements of their joined bodies. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, hooking her legs around his. She gripped his shoulders tightly and cried aloud with every push. Her orgasm came quickly and she fell back against the mats, shuddering. He came a moment later, then lay next to her, panting. She felt wonderful in the haze that traveled through her body and sighed deeply. After a moment she felt George's hand on her belly.
"Tala, are you alright?" he asked.
She opened her eyes and smiled. "Of course. Women have needs too, don't they?"
He gave a confused little smile. "Yeah, but . . ."
"But what?"
"I don't know, I just felt that you were frightened or something. You didn't seem yourself."
She gave a wan smile and looked away. "I just wanted you . . . very much. I had been thinking about you and when you came in, I needed you," she said softly.
He rubbed her belly a little and kissed her shoulder. "Okay. Just as long as you're alright."
She turned to him and smiled. "I am now."
She slipped her body next to his and he cradled her in his arms. He began to hum a little and brushed the hair away from her ear.
"It's been a long, long time. Now I'm so happy I've found you, how I love you," he whispered. She smiled and looked up at him.
"Is that a song of yours?"
"I think it will be. The words just kind of came to me recently."
"It's beautiful," she whispered, tracing her finger along his lips. He pressed a kiss against her finger, then took some of her hair in his hand.
"Your hair's wet. Were you in the water?"
She nodded. "For a bit, yes."
"Care to go in again?" he offered, grinning.
"Of course," she answered. He let her go, and she removed her legs from his and stood. He tugged his jeans the rest of the way off and followed her over. They stepped into the pool and sat down. George pulled her over to him and sat her on his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. He rested his head on her shoulder and nuzzled her skin. She was thrilled by his affection and placed her hands over his.
"So, what will you do when you go back? What are the plans?" she asked, voice light.
He sighed. "Back to the grind. I suppose we'll start work on a new album. I know John has lots of new songs he came up with when we were with the Maharishi. I have some too, and I believe Paul does. India's proved a creative well for us."
"I'll be excited to hear it," she said, smiling.
"Well, it probably won't be much of anything," he mumbled.
"Has anything you've ever done been less than spectacular?"
"Lots of things have. Most have, but people won't let them be anything less. There's all this hype and all the time we're thinking what we've done is crap. We get a lot of credit where it isn't due."
"You're too hard on yourself."
"As always."
"At least you know it."
"I know."
She laughed and leaned back against him. He hugged her tighter.
"You know, I was thinking about what it would be like, if circumstances were changed," he said, fiddling with her hair.
"With us?"
"Yeah. I've been giving it a lot of thought, not that I can change things, but that's the conclusion I've come to. I don't think I'd want them changed."
She turned her head a bit, to listen.
"I just couldn't take you back with me. I couldn't have us living in London. As much as I so want to think this wouldn't happen, just based on the strength of our love, our relationship would go the way mine and Pattie's has gone. Even if we were married, it would be a strain. I know it wouldn't be immediate, because of your kindness and freedom and patience, but it would happen. I would take that and you for granted, working longer, figuring you'd always be waiting there at home for me. But the way you are . . . you'd leave me, I know it. And I couldn't put us through that kind of torture. Even if things were different with the music, if there were no Beatles, that's no guarantee."
Tala nodded slightly. "I understand and agree to an extent. And I don't belong in London, that couldn't be my home. I think we could survive, initially. Our love will always survive, but as you said, a relationship, maybe not. I understand that you have your music, but it's all at your disposal. Nothing is there for me. I would leave you, but not forever. Never forever. I would wait for you to join me in India."
"I thought of that too. It works better, I feel so peaceful and at home here, and yet I wouldn't have what I needed here. No band, no other musician friends, no studios . . . not unless I imported them all. I can't give it up. Anything else, yes. Not music. It's all I've known. But, besides that, I know I would have a wonderful, peaceful life here with you. Little Talas and Georges running around . . . and you . . . I would love that."
Tala swallowed and looked down, feeling that this was something she was to cry about after he had gone. For now, she could feel no profound sadness.
"I couldn't make you stay here without what you needed. See, we understand what the other needs. Odd that even our love won't allow us to make concessions for one another."
"I don't think it's so much that, I just think we're being realistic. Do you think there could ever be a middle ground? Could we ever make it work, in the future?" he asked.
A breath caught in her throat. She could only tell the horrible and glaringly painful truth.
"It will never work. I mean, I could visit you if I ever end up in London and the same with you. But the lives we lead prevent us from ever meeting halfway, so to speak," she said, and turned to face him. "George, I think this may be it. Both of us will move on, expand our lives. I'm sure you'll meet someone fitting, someone to love and have a family with. You'll have your music and fame and you'll be adored for all your days. I'll move on as well, though my path seems much less clear, even to me. This doesn't mean that there will be no contact after we part. I wouldn't be able to stand that. If you ever receive random gifts postmarked in India, you'll know it's me, just to let you know I still think of you. But never will it be that same, I think. A chance meeting here or there at most . . . but it's going to happen like this because it can't be any other way."
He frowned and ran his hands down her arms.
"Don't tell me this," he mumbled, "It was so much easier in my head, but hearing it from you too . . ."
"I know," she whispered.
"Do you think you'll ever find someone? Someone to marry?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I'm rather difficult for men of India to deal with. If I do, it'll be miraculous, which means I'll probably have to love him. But I've met my soul-mate and it's you. Never before have I felt what I do for you, for any other man. It transcends love, which is why I could stand loving another. It would just be different love. Nothing so intense or fulfilling as this. But we have to move on, don't we?"
"It'll take time. But I don't even like to think about anyone else. It makes me sick. How can I even look past you?" he said, shaking his head.
"You'll just have to. It'll be easier than you think. Thoughts will fade, the way I look, things I said . . . the memories will stay of course, those never leave and I'll treasure the ones I have with you forever. But, you'll see. It won't be so hard."
"How can you say that? Don't you care?," he said harshly, though not directed toward her, she knew.
"I do care. I'm being realistic. And I know that's how it will be. For me as well. It hurts me just as much."
He looked at her, dark eyes burning, then leaned in to kiss her. His hands cupped her face and then ran down her neck.
"I will forever admire you for that . . . that gift you have of telling the plain and utter truth, no matter how painful. But also that you say it, and say it with some form of hope lingering on behind."
"That's what life is like. Forever stripping away what good or fortune we have, but always giving us glimmers of more to come."
He looked at her again, amazed it seemed, then shook his head. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back close to him. She leaned against his frame, feeling secure and loved.
"You're right, you know," he mumbled into her hair.
She said nothing. She wasn't right because she knew something, she was right because that was the way things were going to happen . . . fate. His hands rested on her shoulders, then traveled down her arms and gently cupped her breasts. She let her head lull against him and he kissed her in the hollow of her neck, along her throat.
"George Sahib," she whispered, eyes closed.
"I love it when you call me that," he muttered, tracing his fingers over her lips. She opened her mouth to tenderly suck on them, and he turned her head toward him, to kiss her. His tongue brushed against hers, slowly, drowsily. He rested a hand at her nape and let the other trace down her back. She shivered and turned her body to face him, placing her hands at his shoulders. His hands fell to either side of her waist and she leaned in close.
"Sahib," she murmured again, brushing her hand along his cheekbone. He closed his eyes and dipped his head closer against her hand. Then he took his hands from her and braced them against the edge of the pool and pushed himself out, the water coursing all around him as if he were some water god. He smiled and extended a hand for her to take. He pulled her out too and she fell against him and they collapsed on the ground, soaking wet. She laughed and looked down at his smiling face, his eyelashes so dark with the wetness. She bent down and kissed him and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her on top of him.
"Precarious position we're in, isn't it?" he said, a laugh in his voice.
"Indeed," she answered, in his ear. She gently nibbled on his earlobe and ran her tongue against it seductively. His hands spread out wide on her back and hugged her tightly. She heard his exhale and felt his hardness against her skin. She reached down to put her hand around him as she continued to kiss him, running a trail along his neck.
"Tala," he whispered, grabbing her arms roughly. She moved her face to see his and he kissed her hungrily, desperately. She raked her hands through his hair and closed her eyes as he broke away and began kissing her breasts. His hand slid down her belly and in-between her legs and he stroked her, entering her with his fingers, making a groan slip from her throat. She bowed her head a little, pressing against him. He shifted beneath her and she felt him inside of her, the heat making her shiver. She ground her hips downward to meet his, to create that delicious friction. He raised his legs and she leaned on her knees, letting him move her with his hands. His fingers pressed into the skin at her hips and she watched his face, eyes closed, lips glistening with moisture. She slid along his body to reach his face, to kiss them, to let her hands rub up and down, over his arms. The feel of his mouth and tongue were like electricity, it was all coursing through her body. Her senses seemed extra sensitive, each touch sent a separate tingle through her.
It felt so good, him inside of her, the thrusting, the melding of bodies to make one complete, divine being. She drew her head down, to gently suck on his skin, to run her tongue there in little patterns. His hands moved from her hips and smoothed over her hair and down along her back. They kissed, a series of sensual, but light kisses, tempting and seductive. He buried his face in the dip of her shoulder, kissing her skin with his hot mouth. Tala felt her passion building, slowly but ever more forcefully, sliding up through her body. Her limbs began to tingle and everything became so heightened. She moaned and leaned her head back, letting her hands fall to his chest. He reached to grab them and he twined his fingers in hers. He pulled her arms over his head, and brought her body close to his, so they could see each others faces. The sweat dripped from her body, mingling with his and the water. She could feel it, the orgasm seeping into her and she tightened her grip on his hands. She felt him reciprocate and she looked at him. His eyes were deep and centered on her. At that moment she came, as did he, and she watched him as her own body quivered with pleasure.
The connection lasted, their eyes and hands meeting and holding through the heat and passion of the orgasm. Gently, slowly, the waves died away, and she lay against him. He held her close and she closed her eyes, savoring the moment, the little things . . . the way their breathing was synchronized, the way her body felt, so gratified and light, like a feather. They fit each other perfectly there, and neither said a word. She could feel him tenderly stroking her hair and she pressed a gentle kiss on his shoulder.
"My love," he said quietly, then. She smiled and looked up at him. His eyes were shining and bright. She kissed his lips softly and she felt his hand curve around her nape.
"Let's stay like this forever," he mumbled.
"Alright," she agreed, snuggling closer.
He gave a little chuckle. "I think we should. At least for today. I think we should lay under a blanket and do nothing all day."
"Nothing?" she questioned, giving him a grin.
"Well, okay, one thing, " he conceded, squeezing her close.
She ran her finger along his sensual lower lip and smiled. "I have a few bottles of wine. I think we should have some of that as well, and see where the days takes us."
"Sounds good," he mumbled, lifting a strand of hair from her face.
"Well, I suppose I should get dried off a bit," she said, pulling away.
He reluctantly let her go and watched as she stood and crossed the room where she grabbed two towels. She tossed one to him and began to dry herself off.
"You're beautiful," he said softly.
She paused, and looked at him. His eyes were deep and intense. She blushed and continued to dry her hair. He stood and wrapped the towel around his waist and went to her, enveloping her in his arms.
"I mean it, Tala. You're lovely."
"Thank you, George," she said shyly.
He leaned to kiss her softly, then let her go.
"Where's this wine? I'm in the mood to get pissed."
She grinned. "In the cupboard above the stove."
He left and she tied the towel around her and put her hair up in an unruly mass. She went to the dayroom and spread out a blanket and pillows and sat down. He walked over and joined her. He popped the cork and poured a generous amount into two glasses. He raised his.
"Cheers. To us."
She smiled sadly, and clinked hers against his, then drained the contents quickly. He smiled at her and leaned to brush his tongue along her lips. She felt the heat rise through her body and she put a hand on his arm. He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.
"You're something else, you know that, love?"
She tilted her head and raised a brow. "How's that?"
He shrugged. "You just are."
"I am?" she whispered, pressing her lips lightly at the corner of his mouth. She felt the electricity snap between them and he moved closer to her. She decided to tease him a bit and she broke away, to drink some more wine. He watched, and when she was finished, reached for her again but she stood and walked to the kitchen.
"Love?" he called after her.
"I have more wine. I want my own bottle."
She retrieved another from the cupboard and slowly walked back. He watched her, eyes shimmering with passion. She stood above him and held out the bottle.
"Could you open this for me?" she asked.
He took it and worked on the top, and she let the towel drop from her to a heap on the floor. He looked up, lips turning upwards. She sat next to him and took the bottle, and had another drink. She felt his eyes on her, and when she put it down and looked at him, he grabbed her and drew her close. His breathing was fast and his eyes were impassioned. The desire between them was so thick she could swear it was a tangible thing. He kissed her deeply, the wine sweetening their mouths. His hands went to her breasts and caressed her slowly. She began to ache, to feel him inside of her and she leaned closer, letting her hands knead his skin.
They made love, fast, lustful love that quenched the thirst of desire, lovemaking as if they hadn't seen each other for ages. She turned to him as they lay back on the pillows, and brushed the hair from his eyes. She ran her fingertips over the hollow of his cheek and the firm line of his jaw.
"So handsome," she said, smiling.
He grinned. "Don't know what you see. I'm just a skinny lad from Liverpool, is all. Nothing special. Big ears. Big teeth. I can go on . . ."
Tala laughed. "You amuse me."
"I'm glad," he said, reaching for his bottle. His took a long drink, then licked his lips.
"I wish I had more time here. I'd love for you to take me around, for us to tour India."
"Maybe some day we will. We could go to Sri Lanka, Bombay, Agra, Calcutta, anywhere. There's so much to see and take in. I've never even done it, and my father and I traveled quite a bit. You would be the perfect traveling companion."
"And lover," he added, kissing her neck.
"Of course," she laughed, tickled by his lips. She took her wine and had another drink, beginning to feel the heat rise to her cheeks.
He rubbed his finger there, along her cheekbone. Nothing was said for a few moments and the mood suddenly became solemn and she closed her eyes, knowing he was going to say something that would upset her. He noticed and gave a heavy sigh.
"I don't have much time, love."
She nodded and tried to smile at him, to give reassurance she didn't have.
"Four days is all. I was thinking I could come the day before I have to go. We can do anything you want, but I want it to be special."
"Yes," she agreed, turning her face to his. His eyes were dark, and veiled. She couldn't read them.
"We'll go to the ocean."
"Alright," he said, nodding.
Tala closed her eyes again. They still had this day . . . this day to relax and stay in each other's arms . . . she would make this day last as long as possible.
Chapter 7
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