I'll Be On My Way Chapter 2


    Finishing the last raucous chords of their song and more than ready for a break after two hours of voice-straining performance, the Beatles were looking forward to a few beers and meeting some of their audience.  Paul especially had no reservations about rubbing elbows with the locals.  He had appointed himself his group's unofficial promoter and took "chatting up" their audience members as part of that job.  This was another of his dad's influences, being aware that anyone, no matter how seemingly insignificant, might able to present an opportunity for advancement.  "Never underestimate your connections, son," Jim had been heard to say.


    Pete Best, the group's drummer, noticed Derek Markmann and his lady friend first and pointed them out to John. 


    "Look at that, will ya?  Out with his mum on a Friday night!" he snickered.


    "He looks like a poof to me," John said, barely glancing up from setting his guitar in its case.  He'd just bought the Richenbacher and treated it lovingly.


    "Take a look at those clothes...kind of posh for a place like this," Paul said after assessing their attire.


    Stu sidled up to John and said, "She looks old enough to be his grandmother."


    "Well, let's see what they're all about, shall we?" Paul asked, grinning.


    He joined the couple at their table and immediately engaged them in some friendly conversation.  They ended up buying him a beer, and, seeing that, John and Stu eagerly joined them.  George and Pete chose to chat up a couple of German girls at another table. The old lady ordered food for the whole group and they chatted amiably until the boys' break was over.


    The couple stayed for most of the second set, but left after Frau Scheider had obviously indicated that the place was too loud for her liking.  Paul watched as Derek assisted the old frau with her coat.  Derek turned back as they were leaving and gave Paul a smile and a brief wave.


    "Oh look, Paul, you've got a new friend!" John said sarcastically.


    "Shut up, John," Paul scowled at him.


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    Derek, it turned out, was a hustler, a paid companion.  It wasn't as if Paul had never seen one before.  Liverpool had its own share of sexual decadence in all varieties, but on a much smaller scale.  This was the first male prostitute Paul had actually met and sat down with over a drink, and Paul found himself intrigued by this seemingly charming and wealthy young man.


    Derek could see how Paul was impressed with him and was amused by the young musician's fascination with his opulent lifestyle.  Eighteen-year-old Paul McCartney had made an impression of his own on Derek, because he returned to the Kaiserkeller by himself the very next night.


    Paul was an extremely attractive young man; all the boys in this musical group "The Beatles" were, but it was Paul that Derek had his eye on.  His boyish good looks aside, Paul was young, naive, and hopefully just ignorant enough for Derek to be able to draw him in.  Derek was already considering which ways Paul's looks and natural charm would best suit his advantage.


    From the descriptions of their backgrounds, it sounded to Paul like he and Derek had a lot in common.  Both were the eldest sons of their families, both were children of impoverished cirumstances, both struggled to find their place in a post-war society that offered little opportunity to those without connections or money.  Yet somehow Derek had obviously manged to overcome his early difficulties and was living a very comfortable life with all the trappings of success.  Paul was interested in knowing Derek's secret.


    He found himself asking Derek how he'd come to be involved with someone like Frau Scheider.  The woman obviously had money and wasn't shy about spreading it around.  In fact, she seemed to enjoy showing off to everyone just how much money she had and took a certain amount of wicked pleasure in the fascination that her excessive generosity seemed to create.  Paul raised a suspicious eyebrow when Derek told him about the mysterious circumstances surrounding her husband's death.


    "It's easy money, Paul.  There are dozens of rich German widows like Frau Scheider living around Hamburg.  Most of them are just harmless old matrons looking for someone to listen to their woes, but there are plenty of others who sometimes want a little more than just companionship.  But most importantly, they are all willing to pay extremely well for an hour or so of your time."


    He could tell Paul was fascinated, so he continued.  "They like being seen in their luncheon clubs with a handsome boy next to them, someone to impress their friends with.  It usually means a nice meal, wine, whatever I want.  Then there are the gifts...." Derek ran a hand down the front of the expensive leather coat he was wearing.


    "So how did you get started, er, doing what you do?" Paul asked, genuinely curious.


    "It was a simple matter of survival...at first.  Then I met a very generous...person.  He knew I needed assistance and he made some introductions for me.  After that, my life became easier.  Now I answer only to myself, and people come to me when they need help," Derek said soberly.


    "Do you have other people working for you?" Paul questioned.


    "A few...from time to time, though not necessarily in my particular area of expertise.  I do have some associates who assist me in other capacities," Derek answered somewhat evasively, but Paul didn't seem to notice.


    "It seems like pretty harmless work....if you can call that work, I guess," Paul mulled, more to himself.  Derek just sat back, smiling in agreement.


    "Most of them just want a sympathetic ear to bend.  There are a few that sometimes might want more from an attractive healthy young man," Derek said, hinting at a hidden implication.


    "You're talking about sex, right?  They pay you to...fuck them?"


    Derek chuckled but sounded slightly affronted when he replied, "Well, that's crudely put, but yes, they might occasionally ask for sexual favors."


    Paul thought about that for a minute and Derek was amused when he saw Paul shudder involuntarily.


    "Does that bother you to think of sleeping with an older, more experienced woman?" he asked.


    "How do you get past the idea that it's like sleeping with your grandmother?" Paul asked, uneasy at the thought.


    "Paul, they're not all as old as Frau Scheider," Derek laughed again.  "She just happens to have more money than most of the other ladies I know.  There are plenty of them that even you might enjoy spending time with.  Believe me when I say that there is much a younger man such as yourself might learn from the touch of a more experienced hand."


    Paul sipped silently at his beer for a long moment as he absorbed what Derek was telling him.  He glanced toward the bar and couldn't mistake John's disapproving scowl directed at him.  Too bad, he'd deal with John later, right now he was pondering Derek's words.


    He tried to picture himself in Derek's position.  Could he ever reconcile himself to taking money from women to have sex with them?  Depended if they were blonde and buxom, he grinned.  But what would his father think of a son who would consider taking advantage of an elderly widow in that manner?  But, on the other hand, even his father couldn't object to his son spending some harmless time with lonely women in need of companionship.  And getting well fed in the process.  Every letter he'd received from his dad so far had asked if he was eating properly.  So Dad should actually be pleased with the prospect of his earning more money for food and incidentals, Paul argued to himself.


    The prospects of what he was considering doing sent a wicked thrill of excitement through him.  So far away from home, off the leash for the first time in his life to do whatever he pleased with no one to answer to but himself.  It was an incredible opportunity, almost too good to pass up!


    But still, Paul's conscience felt uneasy.  "Consider the pros and cons, son," he heard his dad's words echo through his mind.  And he found that if he didn't picture the image of someone's grandmother underneath him, he could give serious consideration to the most desirable aspect of this proposition...the extra money in his pocket.


    Derek could see that lack of money was a strong motivator, and Paul wasn't going to need a lot of convincing that there were easier ways to earn extra cash than standing on a rickety stage in a smoke-filled room, performing for hours on end to an unappreciative crowd for very little compensation.  Derek decided to test the waters a bit further to see how far Paul might go for this extra income he seemed so hungry for.


    "Look, Paul, like I said before, what most of thse women want is to appreciate a handsome boy.  They like the look and feel of young skin next to theirs...and to be perfectly frank, it's not always women who have the need for that kind of companionship," he said cautiously, watching Paul's face for signs of disgust, but he saw nothing more than a curiously raised eyebrow.


    "There are a few gentlemen among my acquaintances as well, though I expect to entertain them myself," he said.


    Now Paul was staring at him with a stunned look on his face as he digested this bit of information.  Derek quickly continued, "You don't need me to tell you what an attractive young man you are, Paul.  You would do extremely well for yourself, regardless of what types of arrangements you desire.  And with my help with the right kinds of introductions, you'll find that my lady friends can be very generous."


    "How generous, exactly?" Paul looked up at him sharply at the implication of payment.


    That was a close call, Derek thought to himself.  At least he knew where Paul's limits were for the moment.  "Pretty much whatever you want...in English pounds, 10, 20...or more.  Depends on what is required of you.  Of course, if someone such as myself were to take the extra time to make the appropriate arrangements for you to start out, I'd expect a small...commission.  That's only fair, don't you agree?"


    Not really hearing the last part of Derek's words, Paul sat back in his chair, obviously mulling over the proposition laid before him.  He subconsciously put the worst of what Derek had told him out of his thoughts as he began adding up sums of money in his head.
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