Magdalene and the Beatles's First Lp.

MAGDALENE AND THE BEATLES’S FIRST LP. Magdalene watched Mary bend down to put on the LP. The Beatles.

They’d saved up and bought it together. She took in Mary’s stockinged thigh showing through the slit in the side of the school skirt. Mary placed the LP carefully onto the turntable, with her finger put the needle arm down onto the vinyl. The music started up, Mary stood up and sat next to Magdalene on the single bed. Magdalene sensed her there, her thigh next to hers, her warmth, their knees almost touching. What did your Ma say when you said you bought the Beatles? Magdalene asked. She said nowt, Mary replied, but Da said it was a load of shite and where did I get the money from to buy it? John Lennon's voice sang over the twanging guitars. Magdalene said, did you tell him we bought it together? Mary nodded. Her hands pushed between her thighs, her young face lit up by

the room's light. Don't you think Paul's a dish? Mary asked. Magdalene shrugged her shoulders, studied Mary’s knee where a spot of flesh showed through a hole in the black school stockings. She wanted to move closer, kiss the cheek, place her lips on the skin. She breathed in the borrowed scent that Mary wore. Said she'd liberated it from her Ma's room. Mary talked of the boy they'd met in the woods above the school. Tried it on so he did, she said, over the guitars and Lennon's loud voice. Magdalene wished she could put her hands where the boy had tried. I put him straight, Mary said, kneed him where his fatherhood might flow. Mary moved up and down on the bed in response to the music. The bedsprings complained. Magdalene sensed the movement, took in Mary’s behind going up and down on the bed cover. Glory be. She wanted to kiss. Needed the hand to touch Mary’s, the skin to join up with hers. Downstairs a voice bellowed

to keep the bloody noise down. Mary sighed and bent down to turn the knob the thigh revealed in the skirt's slit, the spot of flesh through the hole in the bended knee. Magdalene captured the image. Hid it in her memory bank for later, for bedtime, for the cosy pretend hold, maybe more if in her dream she was lucky and bold.

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