Awaiting On My George, an across the universe fanfic

November has come, and I'm in love. In love with the scenery; the golden brown colouring of the falling leaves are nothing short of breath taking and fill my heart with a longing to move to the countryside. In love with my new job; what other job could possibly compete with being a gardener at Friar Park?! But most of all, I'm madly in love with George Harrison. Not that this is anything out of the ordinary…I mean millions of teenage girls and young women are head over heels for the man. But then again millions of teenage girls and young women don't see him on a daily basis. I haven't really had a real conversation with him yet; I've voiced the occasional hello and thank you when he's brought cups of tea out on a tray for the gardeners…but that's about it. To be honest, I'd say I've spoken to Pattie more than George over the month I've been hired here. She gets lonely with him being in the studio for such vast stretches of time, and I can tell she's desperate to keep our chats going because she needs the communication. Sometimes I feel guilty talking with Pattie because I'm deeply mystified by her husband…but then again what difference does it make? I mean it's not like I'll end up acting out these fantasies with him.

My thoughts are disrupted by the crunching of steady footfalls through the dead leaves, and at first I assume it to be the head gardener trudging along; he has a habit of constantly checking up on the younger gardeners as though we're going to play truant or something! But my heart comes to a standstill as I hear a gruff throat clear behind me, and the gardening shears tremble in my grip when his velvet voice meets my ears.

"Winter's coming on fast."

I spin round, my eyes wide with astonishment that George Harrison is actually attempting to initiate casual chit-chat with me. What do I say? What do I do? I'm physically frozen to the spot for so long that the guitarist begins look concerned and his eyebrows knit together with growing confusion. Just sat something! He won't bite!

"Yeah…" I answer awkwardly, and hastily turn back to my work, too embarrassed to talk much more.

He looks so handsome this morning. He's been sporting a Sgt Pepper moustache for a while now, but today he's clean shaven and his hair falls perfectly into glossy waves around his rugged face. I want to just turn around and throw myself at him! He's too irresistible…to the point that standing in his very presence torments me beyond belief! Stay focused Alicia; you're being paid to garden, not gawp. Leave the man alone, he doesn't belong to you…

"Alicia, isn't it?" George's inquisitive voice catches me off guard, and my clutch on the garden shears becomes tighter.

"Erm, yes?" I reply, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, and I have to force myself to meet his steady gaze.

"I haven't had the pleasure of talking with you yet." He points out with a mischievous smirk that makes my knees tremble. He holds out his hand in a friendly gesture and I feel fit to faint on the spot.

"Believe me, the pleasure is all mine, Mr Harrison." I blurt out, and take his outstretched hand in my own.

"You can call me George, you know?" he grins as he releases my hand, "I'm not lord of the manor!"

"Oh, ok George." I smile, feeling my tense body begin to unwind and the clammy grip on my shears loosens.

"Look, Alicia," George sighs, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "I've got some more hedges that need trimming down in the belt of woodland on the east side of the garden. I was wondering whether you were willing to have a stab at them."

"Of course," I reply like a teacher's pet, desperate to please him, "I don't mind a bit of extra work. Keeps me out of trouble."

"I bet it does." George eyes me with another naughty grin and my face feels like it's burning up, "C'mon I'll show you what needs doing. You can leave the shears behind."

I slowly place the shears on the floor and walk aloofly alongside him, but deep down I'm practically screaming at the top of my lungs and parading the fact I'm walking with George Harrison through Friar Park…alone! We're silent for most of the walk, with George throwing in a few remarks on the weather or witty one liners, but I'm happy enough to bask in his beauty without speaking. We eventually reach the tight cluster of magnificent oak trees and I'm speechless. I've never been permitted in these parts of the grounds, and the view is absolutely breath-taking! My employer briefly takes me through this extra chore he has in store for me, but he seems distracted and I've lost count of the number of times he's trailed off mid-sentence whilst gazing upon my face; when I meet his glance his shyly drops his eyes like a nervous schoolboy.

"It's getting chilly!" he observes and shivers exaggeratedly, "Fancy a sit down until we warm up?"

"But I always thought exercise was the best way to stay warm?" I challenge him with a brash smile, and this causes a toothy grin to creep across his dashing face.

"We'll be warmer huddled close." He remarks flirtatiously, but then bites his lip as though to try stop the words leaking out. It's too late for that now though; talk about locking the stable door when the horse has bolted!

He leads me to a small bank amongst the thick roots of the towering oaks, and we slip down onto a mattress of moss and leaves. I'm sitting close enough to feel his elbow occasionally brush mine, sending electricity through every fibre of my being, and we both have our knees drawn up to our chest against the chilled temperatures. He chats to me about how things haven't being going too well in the studio and the disagreements the band have faced; but he seems surprisingly upbeat about the whole affair and laughs heartily as he impersonates Paul's resilient nagging. Sat amongst the gnarled roots of the ancient oak tree, I feel fully at ease and at one with nature. George seems to sense my state relaxation and judges it is appropriate to make his first move. Looking dead ahead across the vast garden, the Beatle snakes a slender arm around my waist and draws me closer into his side. I feel my cheeks flare up in a coy blush, but touched by his silent gesture of fondness I gladly snuggle into his warm coat and inhale his musty scent excitedly. Pleased by my loving reaction, his other arm wraps itself across my front body and he lures me nearer until our tingling cheeks are pressed together. Our prickling fingers lace themselves together and I could cry from the pure joy building within me. We release a love struck sigh in unison.

"Y'know Alicia," his voice is hushed, as though reserved for my ears only, "I've always had…well feelings for you…ever since the first day I saw you at the job interview."

"Feelings?" my breath catches in my throat and he nuzzles my hot cheek with his nose.

"You know what I mean." He mumbles embarrassed, but his grip on my hand tightens with the desire to take me now, beneath the branches of the elegant oak. I shiver.

"I…I guess I've always had feelings for you too," I admit ruffled, and he raises his eyebrows with an amused smirk, "you've always been my favourite Beatle. The most handsome too."

"Better looking than Paul?!" he asks all wide-eyed and exaggerated.

"I'd say so." I smile lovingly against his smooth cheek.

He abruptly inclines his face towards mine, and his heated breath scorches my lips as his dark eyes silently study my love dazed expression; the yearnings I've managed to keep bottled up are finally beginning to surface, and George is lapping up the desire hungrily as it bursts at the seams. At first our long awaited kiss is so delicate that I barely feel his fiery lips brush mine, but soon his kisses deepen and I eagerly return his welcomed sign of affection. He's breathing noisily, and his hands frantically lose themselves in my brunette hair as he violently forces our lips to weld together; I can hardly break free to catch my own breath without feeling his hot kisses smothering me once more. Not that I'm complaining. I notice beads of hot sweat sit on his flustered brow and reach up to unzip his winter jacket; with a clumsy shrug of his shoulders the Beatle lets the coat fall into a crumpled heap beside up. He too unzips my coat, and I wriggle free; the frosty autumnal breezes bite at my skin through the sleeves of my jumper. His enchanting lips have leisurely kissed their way up my throat and his voice is husky in my ear.

"Lie back." He murmurs firmly, yet his lean hands guide me down to the mossy floor tenderly and my nerves begin to vanish into the crisp autumn air.

With heightening thirst fully submerging my senses, the rustles of the crackling dead leaves beneath me sound like thunder rumbling around my head; I find myself straining to catch the string of sweet nothings George pours into my ear as he gradually lowers himself to me. He's ravenously kissing my throat again, and the sensation of those adoring lips against my chilled skin sends my body into a fit of shivering goose bumps. His hands run animatedly along the rope of my spin, and I feel the mounting warmth radiating from his crotch as he manages to press himself ever so closer; he lets out a stifled moan at this forbidden contact. I can tell he's itching to further…

"Ready?" He asks calmly, but I can see his pupils are dilated with a crazed rush of urgency intermingled with raw passion, which violently courses through his veins.

"Ready." I nod my head decisively, the thunderous roars of the leaves beneath us only just beginning to subside and being replaced by my stuttering heartbeat which pounds relentlessly in my ears.

He pulls himself back from me, and I shiver with the freezing sensation of his body no longer being pressed upon my own. I gaze up dreamily at the vibrant leaves falling from the skies, falling from the heavens, and my heart swells with pure love as I patiently await George's heated embrace; autumn is beautiful! I'm awoken from my woozy dreaming by the sharp sound of a fly being unzipped and his familiar arms are soon encircling me once more. He begins frantically hitching up the thick fabric of my skirt, giggling like a naughty schoolboy, and before I can quite grasp the reality of what's taking place, he's gently positioning himself between my quivering thighs. Is this actually happening to me? Is this really me about to make love to THE George Harrison? A part of me expects this all to be a lusty dream and that I'll jerk awake at any moment to my cold bed sheets. But as his hot hands grip my thighs, leaving small pink indentations amongst my pale flesh, I realise this is real.

At first it feels as though he's forced the very breath from my lungs, and I hear a sharp gasp escape my tremulous lips as a melting sensation spreads upwards through my abdomen. George also seems to feel the sudden spark that has set my insides alight, and his head is thrown back with an extended groan; his desperate hunger finally quenched. I stammer to spit out the words to express this incredible sensation, but George's wet lips are already crashing down on mine and my hands entangle themselves in the sleek locks of hair that playfully brush my rosy cheeks. I flinch impulsively as his fangs prick teasingly at my bottom lip, and I hear him sighing shakily into my mouth with sheer ecstasy. He begins to quicken the pace, unable to hold back much longer and the fallen leaves roar along with his erratic movements. At the back of my mind, my rationality is screaming at me to stop; we're being way too loud, anyone could see us together and if news got back to Pattie…I'd be dead. But I can't be logical! Not at a time like this!

It's all becoming too much for me to take, and tears of absolute joy sting my eyes as I find myself crazily hanging onto the tartan scarf draped around his throat. His lusty grip on my hips is so forceful it feels as though my pelvis will shatter at any moment and I can tell he's close to his peak by the way his eyes grow glassy. Again, his kisses are stifling my pants and his teeth crash against mine. Abruptly, I feel him buck between my legs and he releases a gasp so raucous I expect the tree to come down on our fanatical embrace. I soon follow him, and sink dreamily into the mossy ground below with a euphoric sigh; the warmth of our avid love making swallows me up completely. We lay clumsily entangled in each other's limbs for a moment or two, catching our bearings and waiting for our hammering heartbeats to slow. George turns to me sweetly, planting a tender kiss on my lips before pressing his face into my brunette tress and inhaling deeply.

"Warmed up, darling?" he coos sensually into my hair, and I pull him tighter to me.

"Definitely." I beam lovingly, kissing him hard on the lips once more and enjoying the sensation of the aftermath of our burning passion.