Tomorrow Never Knows - An Interlude

Authors: lovely_rita_mm, jenny_wren28, & pennylane_fic

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.

Hello readers! You still with us? We've got one more story for you! This one is actually set during "Yes It Is", our first book, right after the party she went to with John and the other Beatles. If you haven't read "Yes It Is", go look at our other stories and read that first! :-)

Enjoy!

(P.S. We wrote these stories purely for fun. Don't consider them "canon" - they're mostly "what ifs", some funny, some serious.)

An Interlude

She entered the room, swathed in a crimson dress, wearing her hair simply. It was dark brown, nearly black in color, and tumbled to her waist in soft waves. As soon as he looked at her, he wanted to run his fingers through it. Hell, he wanted to run his fingers and hands all over her gorgeous curves. Damn his luck. She was clearly with Lennon.

"Goodbye Ringo. Thanks for the lift."

"Anytime, Maggie Sue. Just give me a call." And with that, he gave her a quick hug and peck on her cheek, and then waved as he left. She closed the door to Paul's flat softly behind her, and inhaled deeply as she tried to process everything that had happened today.

She had met the Beatles! She had played with the Beatles!

I KISSED JOHN LENNON!

She felt her self start to hyperventilate, and walked over to the little galley kitchen. Finding a glass, she held it with shaking hands as she filled it with water from the tap. The cool water seemed to clear her head some, and the desire to throw up subsided.

Maggie looked around the flat. It was simple, one bedroom, and sparsely furnished – a bed, a table, a sofa… all flat surfaces that could multi-task. She smiled wryly at that. Leave it Paul to have a sex-suite.

Just then she heard the familiar sound of a key sliding in the door, and the lock tumbling.

John?

But no, it couldn't be. She'd told him no at the party. He was married – she simply wouldn't have an affair with a married man. That was wrong.

Who could it be?

The door swung open, and tall, lanky man, with a tousled mop of brown hair came stumbling in with a very drunk, large-breasted blonde who either could not or would not keep her hands off of him. The way they were going at it, Maggie thought they might finish things right there in front of her, so she hastily cleared her throat.

They either didn't hear her or were choosing to ignore her.

Maggie tried again.

No response.

Sighing, she crossed her arms, and realized she was still holding a mostly full glass of cold water.

"What the hell?" the blonde sputtered as soon as she broke apart from the man. She was dripping and her mascara was starting to run down her face. She whirled on Maggie, anger filling her blue eyes. "You bitch!" Then she turned and looked at her equally wet date. "And what were you expecting? I don't care who you are, I'm not French and don't subscribe to the whole ménage a trois idea." And with that she stormed from the room.

"Angela, wait!" The man ran after her.

"It's Amanda, you tosser!" She slammed the door in his face.

He stared at it for moment before turning around and walking into the kitchen, keeping his back to Maggie. He grabbed dish towel and threw it over his head, trying to absorb the water.

Maggie didn't know what to do, or what to say. Who was this guy? "Well, that was awkward…"

"Yeah, sorry about that," came the voice from under the towel. "I saw Paul go home, so I didn't think anyone was using his flat. My mistake."

"Yeah, it was kind of a last minute decision. And Paul went home because he was drunk."

"You're not here waiting for him then?"

"Who, Paul?" Maggie laughed at that. "Not likely. I think he hates the sight of me."

The voice under the towel laughed in return. "Are we talking about the same Paul? He loves women. Almost as much as me." He pulled the towel off his head and shook it, before looking up.

Maggie gasped – it was Mick Jagger! His date had been the one commanding her attention, and then he'd been hidden under a towel. Now she wasn't sure how she had missed that it was him. He had a magnetism that she could feel the pull of just from being near him.

Mick stared at Maggie Sue for a moment, and then shook his head again. It was her! The girl in the red dress. The one Lennon had brought to the party. The way the two of them had been getting on all night, he was sure that they were together – that she was his most recent girl on the side. Yet here she was, and by all appearances alone. It looked like his luck had turned.

"You… You're Mick Jagger."

He smiled at her, not an impish smile the way the Beatles did, but one that exuded raw sex appeal. One that also made her feel very much like his prey.

"Yeah, I am. Only don't tell anyone okay?" He winked at her, and stepped closer. "And maybe we shouldn't mention to Paul that I have a key to his flat. Our little secret?"

She backed up but assented. "All right."

He took another step closer. "Where's John? I thought you were with him."

"He's at home." This time as she backed up her calves hit the sofa and she sat awkwardly down.

"Home? But I thought…"

"He's married." Maggie said quickly, and lifted her glass to her lips before she realized it was empty. Long fingers pulled it out of her hands, and he was in the kitchen re-filling it for her before she could say anything.

"Ah, so you're that sort." He handed her back the glass, and for a moment their fingers brushed, and she felt an electric jolt. It scared her, and when he sat down on the sofa next to her, she leaned as far away from him, from MICK JAGGER, as she could.

While the Rolling Stones weren't the Beatles, she did like them. And Mick. Especially Mick. She couldn't say that she'd always had a crush on Mick, because one did not crush on Mick Jagger. That man was a force – a sexual force. He exuded sex from every pore, from his long, lean legs and his gyrating hips, to his full pouting lips. No, if anything, she'd had sex fantasies, and plenty of them, of the man, but never a crush. This man was not meant for lasting relationships. Just fun flings. And Sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Since Maggie had cost him his date for the evening, she knew what he wanted, and the thought scared her. Mostly because he was MICK JAGGER! As if her day hadn't been crazy enough as it was. The thought of it made her queasy again.

He leaned over, his expression slipping from sultry to concerned in a flash. "Are you okay?"

Maggie closed her eyes and just nodded her head. "It's been a long, really weird day. It's just a lot to take in."

She heard a chinking sound and then felt something cool pressed against her head. She peaked through her eyelashes and saw that Mick had a cold tumbler of ice pressed up against her forehead.

"Uh, thanks."

"No problem. Would you like some scotch in that glass? Trust a Beatle have nothing but scotch and coke stocked. No imagination, that lot." Mick poured a generous helping of liquor on top of the ice in Maggie's glass and then fixed himself a drink. He sat back against the sofa, closer to her this time, and tossed back his shot of scotch. "So, what do you do, when you're not driving all the rockers at parties mad in curve hugging crimson dresses?" He thumped his empty tumbler onto the coffee table.

Maggie blushed, and then laughed. This was the second time today she'd had this conversation. Only this time, Mick didn't know where she came from. "I'm a scientist."

"From America obviously."

"Yes, obviously." She was starting to relax as the scotch she was sipping slowly warmed her insides.

"I've been with loads of American girls. But never a scientist." He smiled again, and Maggie had to resist the impulse to lean over and chew on his inviting lower lip.

"Oh? Well, you can't always get what you want." As soon as the words her mouth she giggled. As near as she could remember, that song didn't come out for a few years yet.

"Yeah, but if you try sometimes, you can get what you need." He slid over until his hip lightly brushed hers. He pulled back and waited to see her reaction.

Maggie's head swirled. She wasn't drunk, but she wasn't completely sober either. But still, she was very aware,that she was in 1964, and while the Stones were big, they weren't that big yet. And she was alone in a flat with Mick Jagger, and her hormones were already going a million miles per hour after her very hot – yet, should never have happened – kiss with John at the party. Maybe a bit of fun wouldn't hurt?

Since Maggie hadn't pulled away, or slapped him, Mick crushed Maggie's mouth with own full lips. Maggie gasped. Strong arms encircled her and pulled her tight against his hard, lanky body. She didn't resist, and after only half a second she was kissing MICK JAGGER back just as fiercely as he was kissing her.

He pulled away and smiled languidly at her. "By the way, I'm not married."

Maggie's only response was to smile. She pushed him down hard on the sofa, and re-attack his pouting smile.

Mick certainly hadn't expected such an enthusiastic reaction from this woman. She'd seemed afraid of him at first. Judging from the way she was straddling him now, she'd gotten over her shyness. Mick kissed ran his fingers through her long hair and a slight moan escaped his lips. Yes, she was different from the ones he usually bedded.

Mick didn't spend much more time contemplating the situation, as he was soon busy working his hands up her skirt, and his own trousers down. As he felt her legs wrap around his waist, his last cognizant thought was that he was having a woman that Lennon clearly wanted but who had rejected him. That was an added bonus. Women didn't turn John down very often. Or, as evidenced by the current state of affairs, Mick.

Maggie woke up the next morning under the kitchen table, with one of the sofa's pillows under her head, and afghan blanket wrapped around her. Her dress was somehow hanging off of the light fixture overhead, and the coffee table was on end, with the lamp on the floor – thankfully not broken.

She sat up gingerly, and reminded herself to never again do it on the kitchen floor. Mexican tile was cold and hard. When she surveyed the room she chuckled – they'd never managed to make it to the bed, and it was the only part of the flat that wasn't in some sort of disarray.

She got a chair and stood on it to fetch her dress, and when she got back down she saw that there was a note pinned to the door.

Messy cursive was scrawled across it, but she smiled as she read it.

Dear… I didn't catch your name. Sorry.

Thanks for last night on the sofa. And the coffee table. And this morning on the breakfast table. And I really don't think kitchen sinks were intended for that use. Ring me next time you're in town. We should do more scientific research.

Remember, if you try sometimes, you can get what you need.

-Mick

Maggie laughed, and folded the paper up before tucking it in her purse. Well, that had been a lot of fun. Maybe she would look Mick up when she got back to the future. But then she remembered how scary he would look eventually, and decided against it.

"So, how was Macca's bachelor pad?" John asked as Maggie got in the car. Maggie just smiled knowingly at him and leaned back into her seat.

A/N: Thanks for reading! This was one of the short stories we wrote to keep you entertained while we work on the third book. We're working on writing it now, so it will be a little bit before it gets posted! If you follow us, you'll get notified when we start posting it! Also, like Yes It Is (7443398), Tomorrow Never Knows (8541872) is now available on Lulu dot com.

Also, if, for some reason the stories disappear from here, you can always find us on Livejournal at yesitis_fic dot livejournal dot com. We love comments, so please tell us what you think!