December 19th 1967. – The Day It All Began.
Bree Mason had been wondering the streets of London ever since her talent had led her there back in early 1965. Bree was a very talented singer, her mother had always told her so. Moira, Bree's mother had always told her daughter;
'Baby you're just as great a singer as Connie Francis or…Doris Day, you should be a singer if it's what you want to do Bree'
That had been at Christmas, the year her mother had been killed. 1955 had been a tough year and the last thing Bree's mother had said to her had been advice, while the family had been gathered together giving out the festive cheer and singing their carols together. Bree knew she had to be true to her dream and not let anything stop her from achieving it, or disappointing her mother. Nothing would stop Bree from singing.
And so, the redhead traipsed through the dull, grey streets of London, her fur coat wrapped around her shoulders as the snow fell down making the walk hazardous, she was aware of the black ice beneath her boots, she could feel the soles slipping over the crisp snow dusting the ground as the mischievous dancing flakes fell from the ominous clouds above, lit by the lamps burning in the street.
Bree soon came upon a small yet infamous studio, 'MacMILLAN's' the letters spelled out in their gold leaf paint. Bree looked around in Victoria Street before she pushed open the door. Inside the small, pokey office out front sat her new employer, Peter. Now this man was someone who Bree would never have thought to have been an entrepreneur yet, it could happen to anyone and now Peter MacMillan had his own record company.
"Can I help you?" he asked her, looking up from his coffee and putting down his marijuana joint.
"Uhm, I'm Bree Mason, your new singer…?" she replied questioningly to see if he knew what she was talking about.
"Oh yeah, come on in Red, get warmed up" he smirked to her, "Want a pull?" he said, offering her the joint.
"No thanks I don't do that"
Peter smirked and flipped back his long hair, eyeing Bree gently, he knew he'd crack her. She was a good girl, he could see that, but maybe a month or so with him, and she'd be a bad girl. He couldn't wait for that!
December 22nd 1967.
Bree knew that the pace of London was fast moving, everything was changing all the time, especially the fashions and so, Peter went with Bree to get her some new clothes, she would most definitely need them. He looked over her body and noticed she had a brilliant figure. He nodded appreciatively before he quickly said to her, "Nice rack babe" and kissed her cheek as he held up a tiny dress, it would only go down to her mid thighs.
"I can't wear that!" Bree gasped.
"Oh come on babe, everyone's wearing them" Peter replied chuckling to her innocence.
"I don't see you wearing one…" Bree pointed out.
"I would if they made them for guys, anyway come on…try it on, you'll get guys queuing up for you…" he winked.
"I don't want guys!" Bree gasped.
"What? Don't tell me you swing the other way?!"
"No, I most certainly don't! Don't be so obscene!"
"Then come on, try it on, for me?!" he smirked, giving her the dress and slapping her bottom before he walked away and left her.
Later that evening…
"See, I told you, you would have the guys queuing for ya!" Peter smirked a little as he and Bree stood in the bar.
Bree nodded gently and giggled before she couldn't help herself after her three Martini's, she kissed Peter's lips. Peter was most definitely taken aback by Bree's action but nevertheless he returned the kiss, making sure he used his tongue against hers. He could tell that her being a redhead meant she was feisty, she had a feisty temper and she was most probably the same in bed.
"Hmm Peter…" she murmured against his lips, her eyes closed over.
"You wanna go somewhere else?" he asked her.
"Why not?" Bree smirked gently.
And so, Bree and Peter ended up back at his apartment. The redhead found herself wrapped in his satin bedclothes, looking up at Peter as he pulled off her dress and his shirt. Bree smiled nervously as she felt the cold air nipping at her body, goose bumps arose on her porcelain skin as Peter then dropped his trousers. She found herself under Peter, he'd already rolled on the condom and was now pushing into her, and Bree cried out as he broke her.
The redhead prayed for the pain to stop and soon, her wish was granted. Peter climaxed and pulled out of her to lay beside her. He looked to her as her tear rolled down her cheek, "Hey, it's not always like that…don't cry, have one of these…" he held up an LSD for Bree, "It'll make it all better…"
"What is it?" she asked, looking to it.
"Oh it's just like a painkiller" Peter said softly.
"Okay…and I can take this after I've had alcohol?"
"Of course, it meant to be taken with alcohol, it works better"
And so, Bree took the LSD. She found herself staring at large patterns and moving animals as she lay looking up at the ceiling still. Peter next to her watched her and he was digging around for anther condom, he wanted to take advantage of the state Bree was in currently. At least, he did until she decided to vomit all of the bed covers and over him too.
December 26th 1967.
Bree had found out the night before that her best friend had been cheating on her boyfriend with Peter, and Peter had gotten her best friend into drugs. The redhead vowed to herself she wouldn't let Peter do that to her, and so she decided that after her recording session, she would tell him she would not allow him to do that to her. Unbeknownst to her, Bree's father had paid a visit to Peter to ask him why Bree hadn't sent any money to him, he had become worried because their family was in danger of losing their home and not a worse time as Eleanor had fallen pregnant.
Peter knew he could help Bree, he realised it was very much feasible to help her from her black hole, yet something inside him wanted her to suffer a little, so that he could play Prince Kinda-Charming and charge in on his LSD horse to save her bleak world from crashing down like the snow which seemed to be hammering the windows more powerfully by the seconds.
However, by the end of the day, Peter had had himself a change of heart. He wanted to help Bree and not because he knew it was right, but because he had to do it. Nobody else would help her now. It could be his power, he could be Bree's Prince Charming and save her awfully dull, dreary life from shattering because of her financial crisis. Peter flipped back his hair, as he often did before he walked over to Bree.
"I have to speak with you babe"
"Babe? My name is Bree…please use my own name" Bree reprimanded him, "And what is it that's so urgent?"
"Your mother's pregnant"
"One, she's not my mother but my step mother and two, how do you know that?"
"Your father came to me, he was asking for your money" Peter replied.
"He was?" Bree was both shocked and disturbed.
"Yes, and I want to help, can I?"
"Why do you want to?" Bree questioned him.
"Because I feel it's my job to do that"
"I don't know Peter" Bree sighed.
"Look, you're an amazing girl, I really could like you, in fact I do…I already like you, it could turn into something more" Peter admitted.
"What?" Bree whispered.
Peter nodded, "You heard"
"You like me?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"No guys ever like me"
"Well, I do" he smiled and took her hand.
"You didn't smoke something beforehand did you?"
"Good" Bree smiled softly.
"Bree, I just want you to know, we live in this dull, grey city. You know it can get so dark sometimes, and I don't just mean the colors, I mean our lives. Let me make your life, that monochrome lifestyle you have…can I make it Technicolor?" Peter asked her gently to which he received a nod and a tender smile, "Great, I'm getting off these too…" he said and flung away his drugs, "I don't need those things to make me see color and beauty, not when it's right here before me"