March 3, 1969 - Monday.
Apple Office and Studios.

George reclined in the chair, looking anywhere else but at the man in front of him, who was busy stuffing a jam doughnut into his mouth, icing sugar peppered across his black turtleneck jumper.

"Sure you don't want one, George?" Allen Klein offered, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, saliva pasted across his skin.

"No, ta," he shook his head, gazing out the window again.

George's appetite was gone, instead replaced with terrible nausea, as he chewed on his nail. Why did he feel so wrong about this? It was just a bit of money, no big deal - don't make it such a big thing! Nonetheless, any attempt of rationalisation did not ease his racing heart.

"So, what is it, George?" Allen asked, washing down the last bit of doughnut with a mouthful of coffee - black, no milk or sugar.

Steffie had poured it for him when she had brought in breakfast some minutes prior. She was surprised to find George there as well, expecting him to be at Abbey Road. They smiled at each other, a brief hello exchanged.

George leaned forward, his arms resting on the desk. "I was hoping for...a favour,"

Allen pursed his lips, curious, "What sort of favour?"

"Is it possible to increase an employees pay?"

Allen smirked, arms crossed, "Well, you've come to the right man. Whose it for?"

"Uh, May - May Shepard." he stuttered, realising then the nervous shaking of his leg.

"How much?"

George thought for a moment. Should he be doing this? It seemed to become more problematic for him the longer he was in Klein's office. Of course it was easy for the Shepard's to request money like this - they didn't have to deal with all the business bullshit! George peeked up at the cabinet behind Allen, different knick knacks and junk in there.

"George?"

"Yeah!" he gasped, startled at the voice, his gaze slowly returning to Allen's.

"How much?" he urged.

"R-right..." George cleared his throat. "300 pounds."

Allen furrowed his brows, "300? What does this chick do?"

"Uh, part of the kitchen staff-

"Chef?"

"No, no. Um, more of a helper."

Klein reclined in his chair, and George took a brief look at the glass cabinet again, before meeting the eyes of the man in front - who was chuckling at him. "300 pounds to a petty helper? Are you mad? Why?"

George tensed up at the ridicule. "I don't wanna answer questions, alright? Just - can yer do it or not?"

"Hmmm..." Allen straightened up, suspicious of the reasoning - he figured George was screwing the bird. "Fine. But it's gonna cost yer."

George eased up at the approval, but was annoyed at what he could predict was to become a complicated deal. "Cost how?"

"Yer trust and word, Mr. Harrison. Imma gettin' a bit fed up with the Eastman's hangin' round'." Klein leaned forward. "I say give em' the boot, and I handle everything."

"Manage us?"

He nodded, lifting up the lid of a small wooden box to reveal a set of nicely sorted cigarettes. Klein gestured to the smokes, picking one up himself, but George shook his head. "I wanna know for sure you're with me on this." he confirmed, lighting a match.

"I've been with yer since I met you, haven't I?"

Allen blew out the match, chucking it onto the table, as he took a puff from his cigarette. "80 percent - that's the share of publishing I'm willing to offer you,"

George pondered the figures - eighty per cent wasn't bad, it was better than some of the other proposals he had received. "C'mon, George...that's a pretty good deal," giving him that sly, devilish Klein smile.

Allen saw the doubtfulness in the younger man, and therefore promised, "How bout' I sweeten it for you? - I'll give that chick of your's an extra 10 pounds, and give you eighty five per cent instead."

George pursed his lips, considering eighty five to be alright. Klein would then be getting fifteen per cent - and with a bit of tinkering and debate from the others, there was a chance that number would drop. He had to make a decision then. May's parents - well, mother - were depending on him. George was convinced this money would bond him to May; he was so enamoured with her, that he had to one way or another be involved in nearly all aspects of her life.

A kiss may be grand,
But it won't pay the rental
On your humble flat.
Or help you at the automat.

"Yeah, okay."

"Okay?" Klein confirmed.

"Okay, Allen." he nodded.

"Excellent! I'll have the papers by this afternoon."

"Wait!" George panicked. "I don't want the others knowing about May's part of the deal - that's between us, yeah?"

Klein studied the guitarist, his lips curling into a smirk, as he flicked ash from the cigarette in the glass ashtray. "Well, George, we might be more similar than I thought..."

George didn't appreciate that comparison - he wasn't a business man at all, he was nothing like Allen Klein. In fact, he reassured himself for that entire afternoon that he was nothing like "the shark".

"It's not like tha'. This money has nothing to do with them. It's just for May, they don't need ta know, yer get me?"

Klein sobered a bit, nodding, "I get it. Cigarette?" he offered George the box, and this time he accepted. "Can't wait for my 15 percent." Allen grinned, and it was then that George realised how odd it sounded - the phrasing was off. Instead of stating what George would be getting, Klein had said the amount he would be getting, and therefore it sounded...different. Nevertheless, he didn't have time to question the deal as his cigarette was lit.

When George read over the contract later in the afternoon, he questioned one part, "What's this about?"

"Did you think I had an extra 310 pounds lying around, George? The money going to this chick of yours will ave' to come from somewhere,"

"And...where is this 'somewhere'?"

"Just look around, son." and clapped him on the shoulder.

The company? George thought. Other Apple employees? Must be...look around...Steffie, Mal, Louie, Sam, Neil...would he be sacrificing their pay for hers? George fought through the guilt as he signed his name on the dotted line.

****

March 4, 1969 - Tuesday Afternoon
Apple Office and Studios.

May was in the kitchen and fretting. Something always troubled her young mind. She was sitting on a stool behind the kitchen bench, Sam next to her, who was raving on about some party he had gone to on the weekend - lots of booze and pot or something. Their friendship was recently rekindled; Sam had apologised for his words a few weeks back, and she wasn't sure if it had to do with George's involvement or Sam's own decision. Nevertheless, May wasn't listening to Sam at that moment. Her period was late - a week at least, and she was loosing sleep over the possibility of being pregnant.

She had been so reckless she was ashamed! All May could think of was shagging George a couple of weeks back in his car, and that look in his eyes afterwards...he knew what had happened, and yet they did nothing about it. And they had fucked so many times after that...the thought in itself let a bitter taste in May's mouth. Those times following however, George always made sure to either pull out, or he would come in her mouth. But still...it was that once. May was unsure why she hadn't said anything about it to George. The more she pondered it, the more she realised that some part of her was hoping for the pregnancy. Those ridiculous urges soon disappeared as Steffie entered the kitchen, informing May there were people in the dining room requesting a pot of tea. She figured they were either Apple staff or business associates or whatever; there were different crowds in Apple all day, everyday.

Nevertheless, when May peeked round the corner of the dining room, she noticed a very familiar and handsome face. She beamed with joy, and hid behind the corner, placing the tray of tea and sweets on an abandoned table - she could see he was with others, but May wished to impress him anyway. She quickly smoothed down her hair and shirt, tugging her school skirt up slightly. With his words in her head..."I want you to wear it, May. It was made for you"... she untucked the pearl necklace from underneath her blouse, ensuring it was visible for him to view.

However, as May entered the dining room, she regretted her efforts on her appearance, as George was certainly satisfied with the female company he was with...

May's pace slowed, her lips agape and heart racing. And just as she thought of escaping the room, he greeted her with such enthusiasm, that it almost made her heart shatter.

"Ah, speak of the devil - May c'mere!" George had that boyish, silly grin on his face, and why he did was troubling for her to understand. How could he be so...happy when she was breaking?

May approached the table, tray still in her hands. Her eyes flicked to his, before deciding she couldn't face him at that moment, and instead focused on the tea pot.

"Hi George." May smiled, but he noticed it wasn't its usual brightness.

"Let me introduce everybody, this is Terry," George said, gesturing to the man in front of him. May breathed a "hello", her voice quivering and non-existent. Terry returned a nice smile and "good afternoon".

"And this is Pattie..." he added, turning to the petite blonde next to him.

May's eyes met those pretty, blue ones, and she couldn't even mumble a greeting. She didn't even smile, just nodded her head, as her heart dropped with disappointment and ache.

"Hi, George was just talking about you."

"Oh." May muttered. There were no thoughts, just a numbing in her chest. "Good things I hope," she tried to make the mood light, though it was difficult with the pressure of tears building in her cheeks and eyes.

Pattie was about to answer, when George interrupted, "Hope you brought the chocolate bickies, June." his wife noticed the odd nickname for the tea girl, but didn't raise suspicion.

May couldn't give a reply due to the confusion of the situation. He has brought his gorgeous looking wife here and then has the audacity to ask me for the chocolate biscuits?! Who does he think he is? It wasn't that she was too young, and perhaps a tad more sensitive. It was the way in which he regarded her as a simple Apple employee, when May knew - and she was certain George knew it as well - that she was anything but. Did he think I wouldn't mind? His whole demeanour stung her with rejection. And to top it all off, he had called her 'June', which symbolised to her that he knew what he was doing, and yet didn't care.

May placed the tea tray on the table, preparing the cups, placing two sweets on the saucers. As she did this, a voice startled her,

"That's such a lovely necklace, I love it."

May looked up, again connecting with those blue eyes, and she noted how piercing, yet warm, they were. She glimpsed down at the necklace, with the dainty pearl on it, before reaching for the small pot of milk to pour into the cups, "T-thanks." she stuttered to Pattie.

"Where did you get it?"

"Oh, uh..." May couldn't glance at George at that point, her cheeks flustering, "My fiancé gave it to me. Apparently my name means 'pearl' or something."

It was a good thing May was avoiding George's stare at that particular moment, because he wasn't very happy with her explanation of the necklace. "Yes, Greek, isn't it?" he piped up.

"Yeah, it is." May answered, slightly gritting her teeth, her eyes on George's for a minute longer. She hoped he could detect the hurt in her glare.

"Well your soon-to-be hubby has great taste!" Pattie grinned, and May smiled at the irony, a nervousness fluttering in her stomach.

"Congrats by the way," Pattie said kindly, and May thanked her, before rushing to finish the teas. "Can I see your ring?" she asked.

"Oh, okay." May nodded. She gave Terry his tea first, before bending over the table slightly, extending her left hand for Pattie to view her engagement ring.

May's shirt raised marginally as she did this, catching both George and Terry's attention. George stared back at Terry, shaking his head, with a warning of "don't even think about looking at her..." He focused back on his tea immediately. With May flashing her engagement ring right near his face and Terry checking out his tea girl, George said to his wife, "Alright, I think May has to go now, love,"

Pattie was still admiring the ring, complimenting May over it. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Must get pretty busy at Apple?"

May straightened up, passing Pattie her tea, "Um, a bit."

She finally placed the remaining tea cup next to George, and he mumbled a "ta" , not even bothering to look up at her.

What was his problem? May wondered. Why did he feel the need to bring his wife here? To Apple. Where they meet up and fool around in the bathroom stalls. Where he sits on the kitchen bench top and asks how she is. Why did he think he could bring his wife into their space? What is wrong with him? The annoying part was that Pattie was really kind and beautiful and therefore most of the frustration was jealousy. May had never experienced such intense envy in her life. Sure, there had been a few instances when Peter had said nice words to her friends that she was bothered by - but that was nothing compared to this. This was like...betrayal.

As May collected the tea tray, Pattie said, "It was nice to meet you, May."

"Nice to meet you too." she hastily picked up the tray and left the room, eyes misty by the time she returned to the kitchen.

****

March 5, 1969 - Wednesday Afternoon
Apple Kitchen.

"Uh...shit," he cursed. "Must've left it on the desk - May?" Allen Klein called from the meeting table. The tea girl was at the back of the room, near the tea cart, daydreaming as it seemed. "May!" he raised his voice.

She jumped, "Yes, sir?" her cheeks bright red as her eyes darted between everyone at the table.

"There's some papers on my desk - pink and white, can you get them?" Allen requested, and May nodded. "Quickly please."

"Of course."

"And May?"

"Yes?" she stopped.

"Another pot of coffee, thanks." and with that Allen returned to the discussion, while May rushed to the kitchen.

The kitchen was surprisingly empty when she entered, and as she waited for the water to heat up, May collected several mugs from the top cupboard. As she turned around with the mugs, she was startled by a figure waiting at the door, causing her to loosen her grip on one of the delicate cups.

"Jesus!" May gasped, the shatter of the glass upon the tiled floor muffling her soft voice. "You scared me half to death!" she shrieked, and there was an undercurrent of accusation to her words.

"Just don't move," George instructed. "Christ, there's glass everywhere..." he observed, as if this was helping the situation.

"Well, who sneaks up on a person like that?" she questioned, and the rush of frustration she experienced was alarming for May. Perhaps it was the adrenaline of the shock...

George regarded her with pained eyes, but nevertheless retrieved the remaining mugs in her hand, setting them down on the bench top, before bending down to help May pick up the shards of glass. There was lingering tension from the other day with Pattie and Terry. They didn't dare address the incident, but it certainly hovered over them.

"What are you doing?" May asked. "I'll do it!"

George didn't respond, continuing to help anyway. May narrowed her eyes, gently knocking his hand out of the way, insisting she had it under control. This action unfortunately caused George to retaliate, and he gripped her hand, tightly.

"What is your problem? I'm trying to help," his voice cracked at the end due his annoyance. "I'm sorry for scaring you, but you don't have to act like a child,"

May was deeply offended at George's scolding, her mouth agape in disgust, "I am not a child!" she exclaimed, yanking her hand out of his grasp forcefully. This movement was too quick for George, and he was therefore unprepared as his now free hand landed right on top of the fragments of broken cup.

"Shit," he hissed, turning his palm upright to see blood seeping from small cuts on his skin. May was left to react with guilt and fear as he showed her. She tried to reach out for his hand, but he pulled away. "Please let me..." May breathed.

"Oh, now you want to help." George sarcastically stated, rolling his eyes, for which she replied with a harsh, "Don't be like that!"

May sighed, shutting her eyes to calm her racing heartbeat. Where was this anger coming from? Was it an extension from the other day with his wife? Her patience was incredibly thin, and it could have been caused by so many circumstances - the late period, the wedding, this affair - that May wasn't sure how to deal with it all, except for acting...childish.

"Is it deep?" she asked quietly.

George's injured hand was currently closed, and when he opened it, a slight sting occurred as the blood was now smeared. "I don't think so," George answered, as he continued to stare at the red streaks across his skin.

"Let me, George...please," she whimpered, reaching across so that her palm slipped around his wrist in a loving squeeze. Their eyes met, and she witnessed George's stare soften, as he nodded.

They stepped around the porcelain pieces, and May ran the tap, adjusting it so that the water was a lukewarm temperature. May grabbed bandaids and antiseptic cream from the cupboard whilst the blood was cleansed from George's hand. The cuts were not too deep, and she carefully rubbed the cream into his palm, apologising profusely when he winced from the sensation. The action was reminiscent of when they first met, and May had burnt her hand on the tea pot. As she did this, her thoughts cast back to Tuesday, when she met George's wife. She considered asking - well, more like interrogating - him now about it. But the fear was tearing up her insides. What could she say? It had hurt, but Pattie was his wife - she couldn't do anything about that. Maybe she should stop acting like a child. May had always regarded affairs as dangerous and wrong, but acts that adults committed. She had to stop with the fragility and be the woman she should be.

Despite this attempt to appear strong, her eyes were transparent with worry and panic, as she looked up at him, his palm now covered with a bandaid.

"God, I'm sorry - am I fired?"

George couldn't help but chuckle at her anxieties - perhaps she had added it in to lighten the mood, and if she had, then that was what made her so special.

"Nah, don't worry about it, June. These things are bound to appen', y'know?"

May nodded, giving a shy smile. George cupped her cheek with his good hand, pecking her forehead. "I'm sorry, too - you're not some kid,"

She shook her head, gaze to the floor. May heard him add softly, "Yer gettin' married for God's sake..." and why he had said it then, as if it had just dawned on him, saddened her deeply.

George sighed, pinching her cheek lightly, his hand falling to his side, "Christ, I need a bloody holiday," he laughed.

"Hmm...I know what you mean," she mused, smiling bright at him. "My grandparents have this house in Wales that my parents and I used to go to when I was younger. It's lovely there...cool, secluded and quiet,"

"Great. So when do we go?" George asked, and his seriousness caused May to giggle warmly.

Once May realised he wasn't joking however, she matched his solemn stance. "W-what? You mean that?"

"Does it look like I mean it?"

May's bottom lip quivered, as she regarded him oddly, "What...how? We can't..." her sentences trailed off, unable to comprehend. She wasn't like George. She couldn't just drop her life suddenly and run off on a holiday with him - she had school, a job, a freaking wedding to plan. He lived in a very temporary world, he just flitted from one thing to the other. Want to go on holiday? Easy. Let's go now.

"C'mon..." George's fingers combed through her hair. He kissed her cheek once, down her jawline twice, and on her lips...long and tender, his arm slipping around her waist. "Don't you wanna be with me?" George mumbled upon her mouth, red and full. May's breaths were shaky and rushed from the arousal and proximity of him. Do you want to be with me? May wondered, as the desertion she felt on Tuesday remained.

"Of course..." she answered through trembling whispers, her hands around his neck, trailing through the ends of his soft, brown locks.

"Then let's go..." he replied calmly, "It's what we both want - and need."

May was still unsure about the idea, but with the guilt of today and his inviting eyes and words, she could only reply with, "Okay, let's go."

****

March 7, 1969 - Friday Morning.
Oxford High School - Girl's Bathroom.

Proton - positive.

Electron - negative.

Ring of Fire - in Pacific.

Alfred Wegner - Continental Drift.

"Hurry up, May! Class's about to start!" Tracy exclaimed, stubbing out a cigarette on the grimy, lime green tiled floor.

"Shut up!" she replied bitterly, carefully writing "supanova - stars end". It had to be precise - not too dark, but not too light either. Just enough for May to read off of.

For that morning, all four girls - Tracy, Stacy, Gina and May - had copied the answers to their science test on their thighs. It was perfect. They had heard of other girls in the year doing it in tests and never getting caught. No male teacher would have the audacity to call them out for cheating - it would then reveal that he had been perving on the girl's inner thighs and crevices.

May was unsure if she wanted to cheat, but all her other friends were doing it, so that automatically meant she had to as well. This was high school - group approval meant everything. She didn't want to appear a wuss. Adult. Woman. Good. The fear of punishment was looming in May's mind - she really did not want to be caned. All of her friend's had, had it. She was the one who had remained good throughout all of school. However, now she was about to jeopardise her good girl reputation.

The girls had worn only their skirts - no stockings - which was already a violation of the school rules. It was winter and bloody freezing. Luckily, inside the classroom, it was marginally warmer.

Gina and May sat next to each other, near the window, on the right hand side of the classroom. Whereas Tracy and Stacy stuck together, choosing to sit in the middle of the room, which May figured was a dumb idea because there would be a higher chance of getting caught.

Everything was going fine, May had made it through half of the test without any troubles. Her attention continually shifted from the science teacher, Mr. Sutton, and confirming he was either distracted by work or focused on another part of the room, May would then discreetly raise her skirt, glancing at the words on her thigh, before hastily scribbling down the answer on the sheet. Suddenly, she heard a stern, male voice.

"Tracy Summers and Stacy Smith. Stand up, please." Mr Sutton leaned back in his chair.

Some of the boys were amused at the distraction, making remarks, but the teacher told them to "shut it". May's heart began to beat rapidly, blood rushing to her ears and neck, as she watched Tracy and Stacy rise from their seats.

"Out in the corridor." he pointed to the door. "Now."

The girls swiftly exited the room, heads down, as Mr. Sutton kindly instructed, "Everyone please continue your test."

As the teacher joined the girls in the hallway, May and Gina locked eyes, mouths agape in shock.

"What now?" Gina whispered.

May shrugged, "Continue the test?"

Just as she picked up her pencil, Mr. Sutton opened the door, calling "Miss May Shepard and Miss Gina Jones" to "join him outside". May glimpsed at Gina, the anxiety bubbling up inside of her so fast, that she was positive she was going to faint before she reached the door. All four girls lined up, in a row, against the wall.

"Now..." Mr. Sutton smirked. "Raise your skirts please, May and Gina."

"Sir, what the hell?" Gina protested. "You perv!"

"'Pardon me, sir?' is what you say. For goodness sakes, Miss Jones, learn some manners." Mr. Sutton scolded, and Tracy and Stacy snorted. That earned a look from the teacher, and the girls quietened.

"You heard me, young ladies. Raise your skirt. Now."

Their fingers lingered on the hem of their grey skirt, unmoving. Slowly - but surely - did Gina lift her skirt - it was the smallest tug to the material, but enough for Mr. Sutton to see.

"Miss Shepard?" he questioned, and May stared at him, not budging. "Don't be a stubborn thing now,"

She turned her head, as she raised her skirt, revealing the black ink, handwriting on her legs. Mr. Sutton smiled, "Right, to the Deputy's office, please. All four of you."

May felt her knees go weak at his words, failing to comprehend the directions until the teacher had entered the classroom again. Her breathing became shallow as she heard Gina say,

"What the hell was that?"

"What?" Stacy shrugged, a sneer on her features.

"What the fuck was that about?"

"We ave' to go to Bradley's office - didn't yer hear?" Tracy drawled, as the two girls began to walk down the hallway.

"You ratted us out, what the fuck?" Gina spat, as she and May caught up with the others.

"As if we were gonna take all the blame,"

Gina rolled her eyes, "God, I just hope we don't get the cane. Bradley gives it so hard the marks last for days."

This information alarmed May; she wasn't good with pain. If it took her hours to get over a minor burn in the Apple kitchen, then how was she to deal with this? Mrs. Bradley was the school's Deputy Principal. She was tough, old fashioned, and unfair. Her hair was always up in a bun, slick and proper. Her favourite outfit was a brown pencil skirt - way past her knees, like a nun's dress almost - and grey turtlenecks. Bradley was in desperate need of a late sixties, psychedelic wardrobe makeover ASAP.

The girls were called into Bradley's office, May overwhelmed by the vintage smell of the books and stationary on the shelves. The colours of maroon, reddish-brown, and olive green was all she could distinguish in the room. The rest was ordinary, a table and chair, sheets of paper...and of course Mrs. Bradley, who stood in the corner, waiting patiently. May noticed something in her hand, but she didn't want to stare at the Deputy too much, afraid it would heighten her punishment.

The girls lined up in front of her desk, as she greeted them, "Good morning, ladies."

"Morning." they replied.

Mrs. Bradley made her way to the students, studying their uniforms and stance. "Up straight, Miss Summers." and Tracy complied, straightening her back.

"Hmm..." and that's when May felt a pressure on the backs of her legs...a long object, a ruler she determined it was. "Kneel now, all of you."

Uh-oh, May thought, hastily pulling down her skirt as she knelt. The school rules stated that the girl's skirt had to be past their knees - two inches minimum. May and her friends were definitely not the role models for this guideline. It was too late however, as Bradley had already noticed the shortness of their skirt - she called them "homeless tramps" because of it. Whilst measuring the length of their skirts with the wooden ruler, she discovered the handwriting on Gina's leg, and with a disgusted look in her eye, she ordered the girls to "stand up, immediately!"

"Cheated on a test, have you? That sort of behaviour is unacceptable." Bradley warned, and May accidentally glanced into her stern stare at that moment, feeling small and intimated. "I expect it from boys; silly and immature they are! But not from women like yourselves,"

May turned her head, wondering how Gina and her other friends were holding up with this talking to, but it had been a mistake to do that. "Eyes to me please, Miss Shepard! Or should I say Mister Shepard because you're acting like a brat!"

May's gaze returned to the bookshelf, a desperate need to roll her eyes at the bullshit she was hearing. First I'm a tramp, now I'm a man...what is this woman on, huh? Part of her couldn't wait to tell George, he'd get a right laugh from it. She heard a small snort from Gina beside her, and in that second she was glad her friends were with her. However that delight vanished once she heard a harsh crack, followed by a muffled gasp.

"Each of you will be punished." Bradley informed them. "Such bad behaviour - you should be ashamed of yourselves." and it was followed by another loud whack, the wooden ruler coming into contact with the delicate skin on the back of Tracy's thighs.

Oh, god! She's doing it there?, May panicked, her heart pounding harder as a third time the ruler came into contact with flesh, Tracy emitting a shaky breath. And then another. And another. May wanted to run away, she really wasn't prepared for the pain. When Bradley wasn't looking, May quickly pulled off her engagement ring and hid it in her skirt pocket. Jewellery was forbidden at the school, but she wore her ring - and now George's pearl necklace (hidden under her blouse) - anyway. She couldn't ease the agitation that grew when she thought that if it hadn't have been for Tracy and Stacy sitting in the goddamn middle of the classroom, then this wouldn't have happened. Fuck them, she thought, as she heard a hushed yelp from Tracy, as the ruler struck the palms of her hands this time. Bradley had said this would teach them a lesson "that your thighs are to be hidden, not written on, and your hands are for writing the answers on paper, not your legs." If only Bradley knew what May's hands had done in the Apple bathrooms, and who's mouth had been on her thighs, the bitch might not have gone near her.

Halfway through Stacy's punishment, a wooden snap caught May's attention, horrifying her - Bradley had been striking the skin so hard, the wooden ruler broke in half. She watched the Deputy walk around the desk, opening the top drawer, retrieving a new ruler - how many does she have?, May wondered. A glimmer of something drew her attention to the crucifix around Mrs. Bradley's neck, it had reflected against the light coming from the windows across the room. Bradley continued to advise the girls..."this will teach you how sinful it is to cheat!", a hit to the thigh..."What a shame and a disgrace...", a hit to the palms..."God forgives no one who cheats!". Any other day, any other year, and the words would have meant nothing to May. Yet in that moment she thought of George. Everything about George. Sinful. Cheat. Unacceptable.

May's thoughts were interrupted due to a piercing sting - she wasn't ready for the hit to the back of the thighs, definitely not. May breathed out deeply, her nails digging into her palm as another smack connected with her dry, white skin. She shut her eyes, wincing at the pain each time. When it came to punishing her hands, May turned her palms upwards, and the nail marks from when she had been pushing them into her skin were quite deep and severe. Bradley smiled for a second, before the ruler was hastily belt across the palm.

She was speechless as they were dismissed from Bradley's office. Her legs ached so much she could barely walk. And she was still expected to be on her feet for her afternoon shift at Apple. At least if George was in he could authorise her not to work and sit with him, but he was at Abbey Road, and therefore she was stuck with everybody else. They planned to catch up later though, so May was looking forward to that. Frustration at the situation - George, her shift, the beating - was quickly rising for her, and it caused her to say,

"Y'know? I'm with Gina, you guys did rat us out."

The three girls looked at May, as they stopped in the hallway. Class was still on, students in their rooms, and so it was quiet and still in the corridor.

"Now, why would we do that?" Stacy smirked, hand on her hip.

May scoffed. "You guys wanted to get caught!" and the accusation intrigued Gina.

"Do yer think we're idiots?"

"Yes." she impulsively admitted, and Gina smiled at that. Gina was younger than May; her awe of the elder girl was certainly detectable. "You sat in the middle of the classroom! Sutton was all over your ass!"

Tracy and Stacy shared a look. "Aw, someone's a little upset cuz they couldn't handle a beating,"

"Oh, grow up,"

Stacy's arms crossed, "You're always the goodie two-shoes, May! Why don't you grow up a little, huh?" she teased, her eyebrow cocked up, provoking a challenge from May.

But May couldn't be bothered protesting anymore. Her hands and legs hurt like hell. She just wanted to go home. May was the good girl; good grades, clean and proper uniform - most of the time, certainly not in Apple Studios - engaged to a man - although that meant nothing to her lately. If only she had the guts to reveal her affair with George - it was on the tip of her tongue. But they would never believe her, so what would be the point? It would only cause humiliation. May was the eldest in the group, and yet her kind hearted nature resulted in her being walked all over. She was sick of it. Why did she hang with Tracy and Stacy anyway? To appear as if she was the bad one? To be cool? She didn't need those girls anymore. George made her feel all those things...and more.

Gina glanced at May, worryingly, as she was somewhat aware, from the party last week, of how much May wasn't a goodie two-shoes anymore. "Go to hell." May hissed.

The ringing of the school bell ceased further conversation, and Tracy and Stacy headed down the hallway, to the girls bathroom. May and Gina locked eyes, Gina smiling.

"I don't think they like us."

"I don't care." May shrugged.

Gina and May collected their school bags from outside their science classroom, before sitting on the brown, wooden benches, cursing once the backs of their thighs pressed the hard surface.

"Fucking Bradley! This is gonna bruise for weeks!" Gina exclaimed, as she searched through her bag, finding an orange to eat for lunch. "Are yer gonna eat? We can share?" she offered the piece of fruit.

May shook her head. "Nah."

"Can I see your hands?" she asked, and May turned her reddened palms upwards. "Your's look worse than mine,"

"It's cuz' I'm a guy, yer see? She thought I needed rougher treatment,"

Gina laughed loudly, "Yeah, what the fuck was that about?! She's lost it."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know, bullshit is what it is. And I have to go to Apple after this!" May whined.

She watched Gina suddenly turn serious, grasping her wrist tightly, "Hey, hey," and May tugged her arm away, body still tender from the shock of Bradley. "Speaking of Apple...what was that the other day? With George?" she smirked, and May couldn't help the smile spreading across her face as she remembered the kiss her and George shared at his birthday party.

Although her expression was happy and amused, she didn't answer, which prompted Gina to say, "Aw c'mon! Spill!! Are you two a thing??" she bumped her shoulder.

May glanced away, suddenly shy, "I-I don't know."

"How can you not know? The way he kissed you...I'm sure George knows what the fuck is going on!" she laughed.

May shrugged. "I don't know what else to say?" her cheeks flustered marginally. She had never spoken about her feelings about George to anyone - only to him. A wash of insecurity overcame her.

Gina cleared her throat, as she slowly unraveled the peel of the orange. "Well, how long has it been going?"

May had to decide then - was it safe to trust Gina? She felt the most connected to her as a friend. Perhaps it would be good; a chance for her to talk about the feelings of fear, guilt and love.

"Since I started there - almost."

Gina's eyes widened, as she reached for a pair of scissors from her pencil case. She liked to cut the pieces from the orange out with the sharp edge of her scissors. It was just a Gina thing to do. "Seriously?"

"Almost." she emphasised. "Things only started to get really goin' and heavy until...after that party we went to a month or so ago."

Gina nodded, crossing her legs, "So..." and offered the orange to May, and she immediately took it, slicing herself off a piece. Gina knew her friend too damn well - although May had at first refused a bite to eat, it wouldn't be long before she succumbed to her hunger. "What's he like?" she asked, eyes dazzling.

May giggled, leaning closer to her friend, as they shared the orange...and many other pieces of food - their jam sandwiches, May's pear, and a packet of chips - as she informed Gina of all the wonders of George. Their first interaction, how he called her 'June', his kisses, his intoxicating scent, his fantastic fashion style, his gifts, his touch-

"Have you had sex?!" Gina shrieked, laughing like girls do their age at such a word as "sex".

May didn't reply, worried if she would be judged.

"I'm taking your silence as a yes..."

May was fine with that, as she continued. All Gina said after she was done was, "God, I wish there were guys like that at our school..."

"But what about Peter? You're still marrying him, yeah?"

May nodded. "Yeah..." she sighed, fiddling with the ends of her skirt. "George came at a good and bad time. I didn't mean to do this, Gina. Maybe I did - I don't know,"

"Doesn't George have a wife?"

"Yes! I don't know about that either. It doesn't faze him." she explained. "They come from a different world than us. They think differently..."

"And this is Pattie..." entered May's mind.

"Oh, like UFOs?" Gina questioned deadpanned - she was fighting a grin badly.

"Yeah, like that." May nodded, and the girls burst into laughter.

After that, May decided to inform Gina of her and George's getaway to her grandparents holiday house in Wales. The pair were to be away for Sunday and Monday, coming back on the Tuesday. It was risky - in May's view - to be gone for two whole days, but George insisted, and she found herself hopeless to his persuasion. Gina ensured May she would cover for her incase something went wrong, and that May would be fibbing to her parents that she was staying over at Gina's place for the two days.

****

Apple Bathrooms.

"So no more playing?" May questioned, untying her hair, allowing it to flow in bunches down her shoulders and back. She tousled it a few times, checking in the mirror.

Her hair was like mermaid's hair - long, glossy, and thick. As George watched her fiddle about with its ends, he imagined her lying on the bed, hair cascading over the white pillow cases. He was reclining against the bathroom wall, hands in his front, jean pockets.

George noticed her gather her locks in a bunch, about to braid it, when he said, "Leave it."

May was startled at his request, she turned, "Yeah?"

He nodded, "I like it out."

"Okay." May shrugged, shaking her head a bit so that her hair landed down her neck and shoulders nicely - but also in a messy way. She had read in a magazine with Gina once that guys apparently liked messy hair.

George cleared his throat, "So, anyway, yeah - we're just taking a break on the album. Ringo's doing this film or somethin'. And this hand and everything-

"Oh, okay." she muttered, collecting a tube of lip balm from her blazer pocket. "Bit stupid to start recording an album and then stop like that."

"Hey," he raised his hands up in defence. "I don't make the rules." he teased with a grin.

George continued observing her from afar. Everything about her...the precise application of the gloss upon her full lips...the way she leaned in close to the mirror, her bottom stuck up more that way...her long legs, and how they would just wrap so easily around him. George could never contain his desire for her.

"Ay' you," he called softly. May turned immediately, a sweet smile on her face.

George approached her, guiding her petite figure into his arms, kissing her gently. Her response was instant and one of enthusiasm, clutching onto his shoulders, as his hands lingered on her lower back. May had to loosen her grip marginally as her palms were a bit tender from being punished earlier in the day - the constant use of her hands in the kitchen that afternoon had not helped. George drew back gradually, dreamy and aroused.

"Are yer wearin' the necklace I gave yer?" he asked.

She gazed up at him, somewhat perplexed at his question - and at that specific moment. May nodded nevertheless, untucking the necklace from where it lay beneath her white blouse.

When George watched her, he studied her hand, a finger in particular - which was rid of a usual engagement ring. May hadn't yet put back on her ring since Bradley's punishment. George unfortunately mistook this to be intentional, and the fact she was adorned with him instead of her git of a fiancé, was frighteningly pleasing for him.

"Good." he smiled, pulling her in for another kiss.

His actions seemed influenced by doubt and insecurity. May couldn't fully understand his actions - did it have something to do with the Pattie incident earlier in the week? Did George not trust May? She guessed there were loving motives behind his inquiry. However, it also made him appear controlling. George was delicate and slow with the kiss, his tongue flicking across her bottom lip, and she parted her mouth almost instantaneously. A throaty moan escaped him as his tongue met with hers, the calming caress of her fingers in his hair absolute delight. He had planned a nice drive for them that evening, like they had a few weeks back...listen to a few songs, talk, and kiss. But that idea quickly went out the window as he felt her body against his. George wanted her here, right now. He was getting carried away, like he always did - once he had a taste of her he was done for. Addicted.

George's hands moved down, squeezing her bottom, good and firm, longing to hear that shaky whimper May always gave him. This time, it was followed by a plead of "George...more..." Her beseech was desperate and completely helpless for him, that his only response was a deep throbbing in his pants. She was just so sexy...and all his.

George kissed behind May's ear, jawline and neck. He continually snuck glances at the reflection of them in the bathroom mirror - his hands all over her...mouth on her skin...the press of her chest against his. It was a thrill. That is, until his fingers tugged up her skirt, and he glimpsed at the backs of her thighs.

"Fuckin' hell!" George gasped, "Christ, luv!" he lifted her skirt further up, "Who did that?" he regarded her with concerned eyes.

May cocked her head round, her lips parted in surprise at the view in the mirror. "Holy shit." she breathed, lightly touching the darkened red marks on back of her legs.

"Did you not know?"

May giggled, shaking her head. "No - I did. The Deputy did it." she explained, showing him her palms. "See?"

George squinted to see the light irritation on her skin. It wasn't as bad as the bruising on her thighs however. "Deputy, ey'?" he smirked, "What did yer get done fer?" his arm slid around her waist.

May smiled, "Cheated on a test." she lifted up her skirt to reveal the slightly faded handwriting on her skin.

"Yer teacher caught you?"

She nodded. "Yeah, Mr. Sutton did."

"Mister?" George raised his eyebrows. "An old perv is what he sounds like to me! Lookin' up yer skirt an' all!"

May laughed, "That's what Gina said!"

"I got caned at school. A very bad student, I was," he said, and grinned, as if this was a good thing.

She returned the expression, eyes full of amusement, "I bet you were!" she exclaimed, her fingers running up the collar of his jacket.

"I got caned once where they missed me on the hand and got me ere'," he indicated on his wrist.

"Ouch." May winced.

George nodded. "He got it the next day though. Me dad clocked him real good." and they chuckled.

"Yer didn't get the cane?" he confirmed. He hadn't seen the usual weals that occurred after a caning on May's skin.

"No, it was a wooden ruler."

"Ah, I see." and his hold on her tightened. "Well, you're lucky really, because unlike meself back then, you have someone to do this..." he picked up her hand and began to pepper tiny, feather-like kisses on her sore palm. It was ticklish and intimate... and so loving of him. He did the same with the other hand, and for some odd reason, it became clearer to her then just how much George cared for her.

"I can't wait to go away with you." he said, pecking her wrist. "I'm countin' the hours."

"Ha!" she chuckled loudly. "You're too sweet, G, I can't wait either - school is such a drag."

George smiled, "Why don't we take a drive? Rest yer legs..." he leaned in to her ear, whispering, "...in the backseat,"

****

A/N: hope you enjoyed this chapter! I will be going on holiday for all of July, and therefore there won't be an update for all that time - so I hope this chapter is enough for now :) Not to worry, I will try to get something up around early - mid August when I am back. Thank you for reading! xxxx