I stood in front of him, wearing an over-size, white shirt and smiling. "Looking for something, Mr. Sutcliffe?" He looked slightly disappointed but said with a smile, "I heard there were naked ladies in here." I giggled. "There was, but they're gone now." He shrugged. "Damn." I walked up to him and said sweetly, "Aren't we forgetting something, Mr. Sutcliffe?" He tilted his head. "Forgetting something? What could I be forgetting?" "Oooh, I don't know. Didn't you bring me something?" I hinted. He bit his lip, half-smiling and looked into
my eyes, searching for an answer. I just held an innocent expression, and waited. "What, did you want
me to bring art supplies or something for the mural?"
he blurted out. My mouth dropped. "No, silly! I
already have art supplies. Besides, we can't start
that tonight. I've taken my nightly shower and I don't
want to get dirty again." Stu nodded. "You don't have
to get dirty." he suggested. I shook my head. "I
always get dirty when I'm painting. It gets
everywhere, you know. Part of the experience, I think.
But especially when I use body-involved techniques,
you know, like using your hands and arms and feet."
Stuart felt the shock-of-recognition as when you
identitfy something of your own life or experience
from someone else. "I love that form of painting." He
agreed. "Okay, no painting tonight. Then what did I
"I'll give you a hint."
"Okay, whats the hint?"
"Sie sind annehmen, um mich zu kussen."
"I know that! But what does it mean?"
"You are supposed to kiss me." I translated.
"OH! Yeah, I brought you a kiss." He parted his lips
and kissed me caressingly, stroking back my wet hair.
As he finished, I took his hand and we walked into the
kitchen. There was Paul, sitting at the table sipping
a cup of tea. I remembered how he had a crush on me,
and it made me smile. Cute thing. The least I could do
was humor him. "Hi there, Paulie." I greeted him,
warmly. He glanced up at me from his tea. "Hello Trix.
George told us you flashed him in the shower." George
swung around. "I didn't say that!" he denied. I shook
my head, "Its okay, George, I already told you. It was
just a little mishap. No big problem." Maybe I was
just trying to convince myself of that. I still felt a
little embarressed at the situation but desperately
tried to keep things cool.
"Why does George get a peek? What about the rest of
us?" John snarled. I rolled my eyes. "Too bad." I said
firmly. John gave me an evil glare. "Oh, you are just
being selfish now!" The lads chuckled. I wasn't paying
too much attention. I was moreover concentrating on
Stuart's hand in mine. He was rubbing my knuckle with
his forefinger and just swinging our hands lightly. It
almost felt as though we were an item.
Paul watched our hands swaying together and he said,
"You two are looking awfully close." Could he have
been jealous? Perhaps. Stu answered, "What do you
mean?" John noted our holding hands. He looked a
little disturbed which took me by surprise. "Oh, will
you look at that? All he wants is to get in your
knickers, lass! That's a British boy charm, 'oldin
'ands. Learn now, girl, while your still young." I
stepped back, appalled. "Excuse me?" I said softly.
Stuart was outraged. "Bloody hell, John! How could you
be so foul? Sod off."
I felt an ache inside. The very thought of Stuart
using me for a cheap shag left my heart numb. Out of
anger, I swore, "Sie verdammten bastard! Wie konnten
Sie solch eine Sache sagen? Gehen Sie zur Hlle!" He
just stood there in total confusion. He didn't
understand a word. "Sie sind der insensative,
grausamste, perverted Ruck, den ich berhaupt mich
getroffen habe. Und Sie nicht sogar wissen, was ich
sage!" Astrid jumped into the kitchen, exclaiming,
"What?! Who is the most insensative, cruel, preverted
person you've ever met?!" I swallowed down hard. I
didn't mean for John to know what I was saying, and
there, Astrid had just translated!
Luckily, John laughed. Than he said to Paul in a very
loud whipser, "I think she's coming on to me!" We all
had a laugh at that. "Yes John, that's my pick-up
line." I joked. Stuart looked at ease that I was happy
again, and I felt at ease that John took my harsh
remarks so playfully. I knew in the future I would
have to watch my mouth, even when speaking in
"While you were taking a shower, Astrid told me how
you are entering some artwork in Einefrausse's
auction. That's very impressive. I'd love to see what
you have in mind. Maybe I can make some suggestions."
Stuart said. I nodded, excitedly. "Yes! That would be
fantastic. Would you like to see the painting I'm
working on right now?" Naturally, Stuart accepted and
we were back to the loft, the attic, the studio, in no
time. I pulled out the canvas. "This is it." Stu took
a long time studying it. The painting was a swirl of
pale blues, and cloudy whites, orange highlights, and
circular textures. It was a majestic piece, it just
needed something more. I hoped Stuart saw the missing
link I couldn't see. Maybe through an artist's eye, he
could find it, whatever 'it' was.
He put up the painting on an easle, staring at the
texture and format. "I want to work on this. Right
here, right now. I may not have the creative energy
later. Will you?" He turned to me. I stood a bit
speachless. "Now?" I insisted. He nodded. "I know,
you've taken your bath...but I can just feel it. I
want to help you. Will you let me help you?" He waited
for my blessing. I bit my lip looking at my softly
clean hands and then, at my almost completed
masterpiece. "Alright, you talked me into it. Come
on." We pulled out the different medias - oil pastels,
tempera, acrylics, watercolor. I wanted Stuart to have
a wide variety to choose from. I reached for the pain
brushes when I heard him say, "We won't need brushes."
Meanwhile, downstairs, Astrid was the hostess of three
over-ruling men. John was in the shower. Paul was
raiding the refrigerator. George had music blaring
from the radiogram. Leaving poor Astrid to accomidate
all of their petty needs. "Astrid, you're out of
shampoo!" "Astrid, do we have any more crackers and
dip?" "Can we listen to some Edith Piaf? Do you own
any of her albums?" "Where's the shampoo, Astrid?"
"I'll settle for butter if you don't have any dips.
Where do you keep your butter?" "Astrid, my split ends
can't wait any longer! Hurry 'ep!" Rushing to and fro,
she delivered John his shampoo and managed to find
George an Edith Piaf album. Just as she walked past
the pull down stairwell, she heard noises coming from
above. Paul walked into the area where she stood.
"Astrid, seriously, where is the butter?"
"Shh!" She scolded him. "What?" He protested. He shut
his mouth and listened. Sure enough, some sort of
humanly moanings were echoing in the attic above.
Astrid's jaw dropped in astonishment. "My word! Is
that...is that TRIXI?! And Stuart?!?" Paul's face lit
up. "Stu's getting some? Ah, so all male artists
AREN'T gay." Astrid smirked at the generalization.
"Hush, you!" They listened more carefully. Vaguely,
names were uttered from the room above in swooning
cries. "It's them, alright." Astrid confirmed. "Can
you believe that Trixi? She's known the boy what, two
days?" Paul laughed. "Romeo and Juliet knew eachother
for maybe an hour before they decided to get married."
he pointed out. Astrid nodded. "Yes, but maybe
Shakespeare was trying to hurry along the plot. After
all, it WAS a play. They couldn't have them dating for
a series of months, it would take to long to act out."
Back in the attic, I sighed a tired, relaxed sigh.
Stuart and I were lying on the floor, next to the
painting. He had me enclosed in his arms, as he gazed
into my eyes again. Stroking my hair, my whispered, "I
think I'm falling in love with you." I couldn't help
but smile up at him. "Yeah, you're okay too!" I
teased. He chuckled and kissed me again. "You don't
think we're rushing at all...do you?" I asked him. He
shook his head. "I have a good feeling about this. I
wouldn't violate you if I didn't feel the way I do
"What, horny?" I interrupted. He laughed again. "No. I
feel...like magic." I cuddled my head on his chest.
"That's a good feeling, you know." He lied there in
comfort. "I know." I turned my head to face the
painting. It looked completed, it looked just right.
"Perfect." I pointed out. He gazed at the canvas.
"You're right. It is. I think it's too good for
"Let's not get greedy," I reminded. "Its true! That
painting is excellent, better than any old auction
bit. What will we name it?" I shrugged.
Stuart gazed out the opening on the ceiling, where he
could see a glimpse of stars. The light twinkled
inside the room, etheral in its beauty. "How about
'Hamburg Night'?" he said softly. "I like it. Hamurg
Night. It fits." I kissed Stuart again, feeling safe
and cozy. "Trixi, would you like to go steady?"
I sat up and looked at him. "Excuse me?" He took my
hands, and gave me one of those looks. "I'm being
serious. Will you be my girlfriend?" It was the kind
of question a man like Stuart stood hours in front of
a mirror, trying to perfect the proposal just right.
His big, brown eyes glittered so sweetly and I could
feel his heart beating against me, a mile a minute.
That little promise I made to myself taunted me: no
more dating. It echoed in my head like a child in a
narrow, hospital corridor. Technically, we still
hadn't yet to go on an official 'date'. If you wanted
to get into the technicalities though. But I knew I
had to stop living in the past. Moving on was the
healthiest decision I could make, and Stuart was the
perfect person to turn to. I put my chin on his chest.
"Yes, I will." In a heap of excitement, he wrapped his
arms around me, pulling my closer and kissed me there
on the spot.
"Don't you think this game is a bit childish to being
playing? I feel like we're at a slumber party back in
5th grade." Paul said, throwing some popcorn at me. I
ate one of the kernals and said, "Paul, this IS a
slumber party! You guys finally get the night off thus
you can spend the night here. So we're just having
some fun." It had been two weeks and four days since
the night Stuart and I hooked up. In that short time,
a lot had happened. Astrid followed up on her
photography assignments, the lads were performing more
hours than usual mostly at night, and I was in
attendance to many of their shows. The record producer
had come to a listening of the group. He hadn't
contacted the lads yet, but Klaus informed us that he
was impressed and the job was still up in the air. In
other news, Stuart and I had been engaging in the most
romantic of all relationships. I admit, waiting for
him to get out of work could be long and tedious. But
when we were together, it made it all worth while. We
went to the pictures and watched Parisian independant
films (even though neither of us spoke French). We
visited local art galleries, hung out at various
clubs, dined in cheap but classy restaurants, and just
relaxed at home together. As soon as he could get out
of work, Stuart came straight to our flat. It was just
regular routine. Astrid and I were growing used to him
coming over so often. The other lads also hung out at
our apartment, calling it the 'home away from home'.
Probably because we provided showers and fed them, a
casualty once taken forgranted until they were
deprived of it.
Another observation that I picked up on was Paul's
lack of interest towards me, lately. Maybe he got over
his crush when he discovered Stuart and I were a
couple. It wasn't that he didn't like me or that he
ignored me because he didn't. But he seemed neutral to
me, and just friendly, never pushing for anything more
Anyways, the guys were over that night at 11pm and
they were sleeping over. We spent a while thinking up
bed arrangements. The conclusions were finally drawn:
Pete Best would sleep on one of the reclining chairs
in the dining room. Paul got the ugly sofa. George
would sleep with Astrid in her bed. John slept in the
small guestroom bed. And Stuart slept with me in my
bed. No one was quite ready for 'beddy-bye' time so
someone suggested we play little games to keep
ourselves entertained. The latest suggestion: truth or
dare. Sure, it was adolenscent. But it was also
harmless and fun, which in all meant good enough for us.
"Alright, I'll start. Truth or dare...Paul!" I asked playfully. Paul contemplated a moment and then said, "Truth."
"Who is prettier, me or Astrid?"
"Hey, thats not fair!" he whined.
Astrid leaned foward in interest. "Yeah Paul, which one of us is prettier?" He looked at me and then at Astrid, then back at me. "Trixi." he spat out. I laughed and gave Astrid a superior look. "Why her?" Astrid wondered. "I guess I perfer brunettes over blondes," he answered. "Fair enough." she settled. Paul looked around the circle of people. "George! Truth or dare."
"Um...dare." he said uneasily. John's face lit up with delight. "That's my boy! Take it like a man. Unlike Paulie." he instigated. Paul just shot him a look and then turned to George. "I dare you to french kiss Trixi!" George flushed, his cheeks as ruddy as could be. John was more than amused. "Yeah, snog her good! Right in front of Stuart. This'll be great."
"Hey, you don't have to do it if you don't want to, George." Stuart pressed.
George was smiling at me, ear to ear and then he faced Stu. "No, I don't mind." he insisted. George crawled over in front of me, and I could feel everyone staring. Especially Stuart. He held my hand, selfishly. George was watching my lips, and would quickly glance at my eyes. "Do you mind?" he asked me. I shook my head. "No, not at all."
"I mind!" Stuart interrupted. I stroked Stu's cheek and assured him, "Sweety, its only a dare. They just want to see you get all riled up."
"Nah, we just want to see him get pissed." John corrected.
Stu shook his head. "Okay then."
George moved closer to me. He closed his eyes and...