9:41 A.M., Saturday, January 23, 2021

PLUR-MAkKikM, just outside Honolulu, HI

Twelve teenagers stood in the living room of Ted Michaels, the legal guardian of Paul Clair Macon and his girlfriend, Paula Claire Akron, both fourteen years old. The couple was present, and the other ten who had gathered for this event (properly masked and maintaining, mostly, two metre separation) were friends from school. Most of them were also fourteen, though some of them were fifteen.

These schoolmates noticed that Paul and Paula had their guitar and bass with them, and that there was a piano in the room. They couldn’t help but notice the half-dozen microphones set up.

“I’m sorry if this sounds a little, well, Biblical,” Paul started, “but one of you is going to betray us.”

The other teens chuckled a bit, and it was Kalena Mihai’i who had a question.

“Do I have to deny knowing your name all three times, or is two enough?”

Paul laughed at that, and Paula said that twice should be enough.

“But that makes you Saint Peter. We need a volunteer for Judas.”

Sally Carlisle said, “I’ll do it. I’ll turn you over to the Romans. I could use thirty pieces of silver.”

There were more chuckles, but then Paul said, “Actually, you will be making money. That’s supposed to be your motivation.”

For the first time, the young people in the room looked nervous.

“What am I supposed to do?” Sally asked.

“Glad you asked,” Paul said. “We’re going to record an album today, just for friends, not for public release. We’re going to be singing songs the record company won’t let us release. Inappropriate for our age stuff. Again, just for you. The fans, except for you, should never even know we recorded it.”

“But YOU,” Paula added, glaring at Sally and pointing an accusing finger, “you greedy little so-and-so, are going to start selling copies.”

Sally blinked.

“So ... you get this stuff out, but it’s my fault, not yours.”

“That’s about it,” Paul nodded. “But we’ll forgive you.”

“So,” Paula chirped, “you still want to be Judas?”

Sally thought it over a bit.

“I’ll do it, but not for money. I’m a fan who thinks other fans should get to hear this. I do it for love, not money.”

The couple thought it over a bit.

“That,” Paul said, “is probably an even better idea. You could just upload the songs to YouTube for free, and even more people get to hear it.”

There was some more talk, and several of the other kids found a way to be a part of the plan: Jenny and Sam, who were dating again, would drop hints on Facebook and Twitter; George would make a point of getting caught singing a couple of the songs and admitting where he’d heard them (should get it all over one school at least); Kalena and Jim would play it loud at various parks they went to on dates. After two weeks of this, Sally would start her YouTube uploads.

The rules for this mini-concert-cum-recording session were laid out: the lights would go down just before performing and recording began. There was to be no talking, no singing along, no applause during this time. The lights would come up and either Paula or Paul would snap fingers, signaling that the microphones and other recording equipment were off. There was a little discussion of whether the songs should be sung one after the other with no breaks for talking, or if the lights should come up and talking be allowed after each song. It was quickly decided to have a break between each song. During this time there could be talk and applause. After a few minutes, the lights would go down and another song would begin.

There were a few more minutes of talk in general, and George traded the “get caught singing” job with Billy, who everybody knew couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.

“Builds the desire to hear it done right,” Billy said with a wicked grin.

George would introduce everybody he could to the original versions of the songs, and constantly point out that they would be good cover choices for Paul & Paula 21, who of course he knew, and everybody knew that.

There was a bit more talk, as there often is when young people congregate, but soon it was time for the business of music.

“OK,” Paul started things, “now this first song they did let us record, but then they refused to release it, and they won’t let us perform it on stage.”

“And we had this whole stage thing set up,” Paula continued, “with spotlights hitting each instrument as it’s featured, and whichever one of us is singing, and both of us when it’s both of us and, ah, it was so cool.”

Paul said, “Yeah, we’d love you to see it, but we don’t have the whole band and all the lights and stuff. So, we’re just gonna play the studio recording we made. It was supposed to be on ‘Kids These Days,’ but, yeah.”

Paula added, “There was TALK of putting it on ‘Doomed Airships,’ but there wasn’t room. At least, that was the excuse. With KTD, they just said no.”

The lights went down and the cover of the Beatles song began. The teen couple didn’t sing this live in the living room; it was a recording they made at eleven years old. There was no sex in the song, and nothing which could be interpreted as anybody sleeping with anybody; there was no violence, no dirty words, and no drugs. But the song was weird, and trippy, and this is why it was nixed. It is the last full-studio-quality song the kids heard at this event.

The song faded, the lights came up, and Paul Macon snaped his fingers, indicating that the microphones were off and it was alright to make noise. The gathered teenagers applauded, and there was much talk about this song, what it means, and why the record company would be afraid of it. Some of the kids were surprised to discover that it was Paul & Paula 21’s third cover of a Beatles song.

“The same guys that did ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ and ‘When I’m 64’ did THAT?!”

Paula, who had put her mask back on as soon as the singing was over, laughed and gave Jim a hug, causing him to blush.

“The Beatles did everything. They’re generally credited with the first heavy metal song, ‘Helter Skelter,’ which is about a slide by the way.”

“Besides,” her boyfriend added, “WE sing ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ and ‘When I’m 64,’ and ‘Within You Without You,’ too.”

“Well, yeah,” Sam admitted, “but you didn’t write them. The Beatles wrote all that stuff, and it’s so different.”

Paul hung his head a bit.

“Yeah. I keep trying to write stuff, but so far none of it’s much good.”

Paula Akron gave another hug, this one to her lover.

“Hell, even Paul McCartney didn’t write ‘When I’m 64’ until he was fifteen. You’ll get there.”

Paul looked up, his grin mostly unseen behind his mask.

“Time for another song!” the young man announced. “Now this one they didn’t let us record, and looking back I can see why.”

“It’s kind of funny that we even asked,” Paula said. “I guess because we were ten years old and thought we could do anything.”

The lights faded and the teen couple sang “Friends and Lovers,” a song where the title alone would have caused Steve, who was the man currently in charge of telling the kids what they couldn’t sing, to say no. Even Richard, who had the same job at the time and who had okayed “Afternoon Delight” and “Islands in the Stream,” had said no to this one. Even if the title hadn’t been enough, lyrics such as “I don’t know what we’re afraid of | Nothing would change if we made love” would have been.

This time, as the lights came up and the mics went off, it was Paula who snapped her fingers. Again, their friends applauded, and there was much discussion of the song.

“Was that the Beatles, too?” Jim asked, and Paul laughed.

“No, that wasn’t the Beatles. That was for a soap opera in the Eighties. You ... can see why they said no.”

Paula laughed.

“We actually thought they’d let us do it.”

“You know,” George pointed out, “Paul’s voice is totally different in that ‘Friends and Lovers’ song than it is in the Beatle-y song.”

“Well yeah,” Paul said. “We were eleven when we recorded it. I done grew up a little since then.”

Paula laughed.

“Some fans are going to wonder who the hell I’m singing with.”

After a bit more conversation, Paula announced the next song.

“OK now this next one we never did ask. We were twelve when we heard it, and we knew there was just no way in hell they’d say yes, so we just didn’t ask.”

“But,” Paul added, “it is the sort of thing we’d like to be doing in a couple of years. I think by the time we’re sixteen, it should be OK to be a little sexy. The song was originally recorded by Bad Company.”

The lights dimmed and the gathered teens fell silent. The young couple belted out “Feel Like Makin’ Love,” a song as subtle as its title. It wasn’t hard to convert it to a duet, and everybody knew that Paula would indeed gift Paul with both night and day, and when DIDN’T they feel like making love?

The song faded with the couple singing, in harmony, “Well I feel like makin’ love” over and over.

Some of the teens forgot to wait for a finger-snap, so the microphones were not shut off in time to avoid Billy as he declared, “Well, I got a hard-on now.”

The general laughter of teenagers was also recorded for nearly a second. In editing, it would be decided to leave this in.

The mics were off when Paula said, “Billy, if that song gave you a hard-on, you’re gonna have to change your pants after this next one.”

There was more laughter, but the mics and music didn’t start until it was over, and then the teen couple sang “Je T’Aime, Moi Non Plus.” A couple of the kids present spoke French, or spoke enough, and those who did not had no problem recognizing the tone. No translation was needed for Paula’s orgasmic breathing at the end, nor for her facial expressions, and one of the boys present would believe for the rest of his life that he had seen his classmate cum right in front of him.