The Beatles #1

1967

1967

You were always around the Beatles. Everyone knew you, or at least had heard of you. You were the Beatles' most popular groupie. Everyone asked you what it felt like to be with the four most popular boys of the era. Sometimes you even appeared in the newspapers alongside them.
For you, it was fun and exhausting at the same time. You knew that none of it was true love or anything like it. Everyone wanted you for one single reason. You were like a boost for their egos, always there to flatter them and so on. Sometimes you felt a bit lonely. You wondered if any of them actually cared about you, but how could they not? Even just a little bit? They adored you. You were their girl.
Tonight, as always, they invited you to have a drink with them at a bar near the hotel where they were staying during the tour. Of course, you accepted and got ready. You always loved getting dressed up. All that pretty makeup and expensive clothes reminded you of how much they spoiled you. Not with love, but with material things.
You headed to the bar, which was just around the corner. It was an elegant-looking bar, with jazz music and dim, mysterious lighting. You walked in, looking around to see where the boys were. They were all in a booth, sitting on red leather cushions, drinks in hand, chatting among themselves. You quickly approached them.

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