Wild Child

Chapter One

September 2021

Because we were twins, I assumed we would always be together. Stupid really, we had our own lives and our own friends; but all my life, Claudia had been my constant companion. We’d done everything together – nursery, school, holidays, parties. We were ‘the twins’. Hell, we were even signed on our modelling agency as a double act. But now, the other half of me was breaking my heart.

She’d just come back from Lisbon with Theo, her boyfriend, and suggested we had lunch at Canvas, my favourite restaurant in Soho. When my sister took me out anywhere, it was always to give me bad news. And I was right. As we sat up on the roof, with the late summer sun shining down on us – Claudia looking darker than ever with her tan; and her dark brown hair had been lightened by the Portuguese sun, whereas I’d spent the summer in London and looked pale, and there were dark circles under my eyes. If I didn’t feel bad enough, she then dropped her bombshell and told me I had to move out of her flat.

“You knew it was only going to be a temporary thing, Maria,” she said. “You’ve been there six months now. Theo needs to move in next week.”

“Why do I have to move out? You and Theo won’t need two bedrooms.”

“We want some privacy. Why are you being such a brat about it?”

“Because you’re making me homeless.”

“I’m hardly doing that. You can move into a hotel, or back with Mum and Dad, or rent a flat or something.”

“I don’t want to live with Mum and Dad, and I don’t want to live on my own.”

“We can’t be together forever, Maria. We might be twins, but we have separate lives. I don’t do half the things you do.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“Well, it would do you good to maybe get a boyfriend.”

“I’m not like you and Patti, desperate to settle down before I’m twenty five. I want to have some fun. Is that a crime?”

“It is when I get up in the morning, and there’s some guy I don’t know in my kitchen. Then the next morning I get up and it’s someone else entirely.”

“Pardon me for wanting to have some fun. You’re so fucking boring these days, Claud. Well, don’t worry, I’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

I got up, throwing my napkin on the table, and left. As I walked down the stairs, I wondered if this was how normal people were. Did they have a voice in their head the whole time telling them what they were doing wrong? When you were a twin, that voice manifested into a whole human being.

I didn’t know what to do with myself. As usual when my life went wrong, I went into self-destruct mode. It always hurt more when it was Claudia who did it. As much as I hated her, I also felt as though I couldn’t live without her. It was the fucked up way of being a twin.

Before she could come after me, I ducked into The Dock, a grotty basement gay bar on Greek Street. It was a dive, but the drinks were cheap and at least I’d get left alone.

The bar was dark, and even though it was the middle of the day, it still stank of amyl nitrate and sweat. Brenda was serving behind the bar. He was a big, hairy bear of a man, but he used to be a drag queen called Brenda Bollocks and the name had stuck.

“What can I get you, gorgeous?” he asked me when I sat at the bar.

“Double vodka, please Bernie.”

I took out my phone and saw that Claudia had tried to call me five times. I ignored her. I still couldn’t believe she was kicking me out. It had been so exciting when she’d bought her flat in Notting Hill, in March. Even Mum and Dad assumed we would be sharing, and when Claudia said I could live there until I found my own place. I hadn’t thought she’d actually meant it.

Brenda brought me my drink. I slammed it down in one and ordered another. I needed something to stop me delving into my darkest thoughts…the ones no one knew about. Not even my sister. What happened on our first holiday, away from our parents, would always be my secret to keep. When we came home, Mum and Dad were happy because my older sister Patti and her boyfriend had got engaged; and also while we’d been away, Dakota Foote, the model agent had expressed an interest in signing us, due to our huge social media presence.

No one noticed how I’d changed.

For a while I became how Patti used to be – covering my body up and trying to make myself look as ugly as possible. But the more I modelled, and I started drinking and doing the occasional line of coke, the more I thought ‘fuck it’. My virginity had been taken down a dingy, stinking Ibizan alley by a taxi driver who had promised to take me back to our villa when I got too drunk. He’d taken something precious from me…well my body was mine and I’d do whatever I wanted with it.

In my drunken state, I decided I needed to see Patti. Unlike perfect Claudia, she had made mistakes. Before marrying Nick, she’d had an affair with a married man, and when we were in St Tropez in 2015 she’d lost her virginity to a guy called Christopher Bloom, who seduced her and used her. She always told me she regretted it and wished Nick had been her first; but at least she’d chosen to sleep with her first man. I’d not had that privilege.

I left the club and stumbled into a taxi, telling the driver to take me to Battersea. I kept noticing him glancing at me in the rear view mirror and I buried my face in the collar of my rocker jacket. Even now I found it hard to be in a cab on my own. I’d check where all the exits were, and I’d bunch my keys in my first, just so I could scratch him if he tried to touch me.

He dropped me outside Patti’s house near to Battersea Park. Patti used to live in the basement, but now that was rented out to her friend Todd, while she and Nick had the house. They were going to need it seeing as she was six months pregnant with their first baby. I would never admit it, but a part of me was excited about becoming an aunt. I just hope it didn’t turn out a fuck-up like me.

I was just walking up the steps of the house, when the door opened and Patti and Nick came out. Pregnancy suited my sister. She looked even more beautiful. Her skin was glowing, and her hair was unbelievably glossy. Her fairly large bump stuck out from her sweatshirt, and her boobs were massive. Nick must have been delighted.

“Have you made it up with Claudia yet?” she asked.

“No, can I stay here tonight? Where are you going?”

“To our antenatal class. Why don’t you go and see Mum and Dad? We’ve got the decorators in.”

“She could sleep on the couch,” Nick said helpfully.

“No,” Patti said firmly. “Mum will be able to persuade her to talk to Claudia.”

“Well fuck you!” I said, flicking her the bird. “I can take care of myself.”

I walked off and I vaguely heard Nick suggest going after me, and Patti saying they should leave me to sulk.

I needed another drink. I wasn’t sure where I was going, so I headed towards the bright lights of Chelsea Bridge.

I noticed a hotel in a large complex across from the park. I checked my reflection in the window of an office block, making sure I looked okay. Days like today, I didn’t particularly like looking at my reflection, because I only saw Claudia. We had the same tumbling, long dark hair and big brown eyes, Dad’s perfect bone structure and Mum’s pouty mouth. I was wearing a black satin shirt, black skinny jeans and my old leather rocker’s jacket. Even though I didn’t feel it inside, I was beautiful. How did I know? Because me and my sister looked exactly the same, and she was the most beautiful woman in the world. And she was better than me because she was pure inside.

I went into the large hotel and headed for the bar. The vodka from earlier on was wearing off, and I needed something to take the edge off.

As normal, as soon as I walked in the room, men turned to look at me. I ignored them all and sat at the bar and ordered a Martini. In my pocket I could feel my phone buzzing – no doubt my family all calling me to have a go. I just wanted some peace and get my head together. I had a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I was doing a shoot for a singer called Marcus Bolton. I’d vaguely heard of him, he was quite big on the indie scene. My role was of ‘beautiful girl he wants by can’t have’. I’d played this role so many times before, but the money was good, and at least it was separate to my sister. I no longer wanted to be in a double act with her.

It didn’t take long for someone to join me. He sat nearer to me than was decent, hut when I looked at him, I didn’t mind. He was gorgeous. Like Patti, I was partial to an older man, and this one had to be about forty. His dark blonde hair was short and swept back from his face, and he was handsome in a rugged, lived-in way.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” he smiled, slight wrinkles appearing beside his blue eyes. I found it sexy. It spoke of experience, and with experience came good sex. He looked at my glass. “What are you drinking?”

“Vodka Martini.”

He was Canadian. I recognised the accent. When we were little, me and Claudia had a Canadian tutor called Ellen, when we were in Toronto with Mum when she was making a film. Ellen would teach us all the differences between a Canadian and an American way of speaking, and even now it was one of my few skills.

He ordered the drinks – a vodka Martini for me and a whiskey on the rocks for him. He smelt heavenly – Aramis, an old school scent that I loved. He was casually dressed in a thin, cashmere black jumper and black jeans, but he wore them with the grace of a model.

“You’re Canadian,” I said.

He smiled and looked impressed.

“Wow, everyone thinks I’m American.”

“I lived in Toronto for a while when I was a child. My tutor taught me all about the differences in accents.”

“Well I’m impressed.” He offered his hand. “Tony.”

I did that stupid, female giggle thing that we all did for some reason, and shook his hand.

“Maria.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. I take it you’re a model?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“I was one a long time ago….another lifetime.”

“What do you do now?”

“Photographer. I photograph buildings. I’m currently working on some stuff on the new Power Station Development.”

“You’re staying here?”

“Yeah, I live in Quebec, I’m just here for work. You?”

“I live in London. Sort of. I live with my twin sister, but she’s kicking me out because she’s moving her boyfriend in.”

“Identical twin?” he smiled.

“Yes.”

“Wow!”

I laughed and took my drink from the barman.

“You wouldn’t be the first man to get excited at the thought of that.”

“So where are you staying tonight?”

“I don’t know. Home to my parents. Maybe I could book in here for the night.”

He drained his drink. It was then that I noticed the wedding ring on his left hand.

“Or you could share my room if you like….”

“Okay.”

He gave me that craggy smile again and I became wet. I hadn’t anticipated having sex today, but I was glad I was being given the opportunity. It was the one time I could feel free. My brain would calm down and I could just concentrate on my body. You would think as a rape victim, I would be put off by sex, but it was the opposite. It was as though I was determined to go through life, trying to own my sexuality and prove it could be enjoyable.

Tony paid the bill for our drinks and took my hand, leading me out of the bar. He had big. Strong hands and he was taller than me. I was 5’9 and most men weren’t that much taller than me, but I came to his shoulder. It made me feel protected in a pathetic, damsel in distress way.

We took the lift to the sixth floor, saying little as we travelled. I mentally checked if I took my pill that morning. I had, and they were in my handbag for tomorrow. I always took them with me, just in case I spent the night with someone.

As soon as we got in the door of his suite, he pushed me against the wall and kissed me. I soon yielded to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting our tongues entwine and explore our mouths. Tony’s hands moved to my blouse, and as he kissed me, he undid the buttons. He roughly grasped my left breast, before slipping his hand into my bra and stroking my hard nipple, making me groan with pleasure against his lips. He pulled his head away and took my hair, pushing it off my shoulder so I could kiss his neck. I pulled at the thin, cashmere jumper and he stepped away, so I could help him pull it off.

He had a well toned body, with a thin layer of hair between his nipples. I stroked it, tugging it gently, running my fingertips across his nipples and moving my hands to his back, feeling his muscles moving. He moaned and pulled me to him again, grinding his erection against my belly. I stroked his soft, silky hair, ruffling it. My desire took over my rational thoughts and I started to fantasise that his wife was here in the UK, and he would have to go home covered in my scratches, having to explain to her how it had happened.

He manoeuvred me over to the bed, but in a swift move, I pushed him down instead. He sat on the edge, looking up at me in wonder as I undressed. Once I was naked, I knelt down and undid his trousers and pulled them down with his boxer shorts. He was so hard, it sprang up, almost hitting his belly. I took him in my mouth, slowly running my lips up its length.

“Oh fuck!” he gasped, his head snapping back. I let go of him and stood back up, pushing him down on the bed. He moved back slightly so I could climb on top of him. I always liked to be on top. I liked to watch a man’s face as he looked at me. I lowered myself onto Tony and it felt good. I pushed his cock inside me and moved my hips slowly, teasing him. I laid my hands on his chest and leaned forward, letting my hair fall onto his face and shoulders. He grasped my breasts, kneading my nipples with his palms. It felt exquisite and I started to lose control a little bit.

I moved faster, not really caring about his pleasure. I needed relief. I ground my clit against him, feeling myself coming. I sat up so his full length was in me, stretching and filling me. He gripped my hips as I fucked him. I needed more. I leaned back, holding his legs, grinding him right inside me. For a few, sweet, delicious seconds, everything melted away and ecstasy took over. I cried out in abandon, full of the joy of being free, and my body making me feel this way.

Tony sat up and pulled me to him, and I rested my head on his shoulder, clinging to his hair as he came inside me. We became still, holding each other, descending into that golden moment when all was silent and calm.

“You’re amazing,” he panted. “How old are you?”

“Twenty one in December.”

“Wow, I’m old enough to be your father. I’m forty two next week.”

I pulled away and looked at his handsome face, brushing his damp hair off his forehead.

“It’s okay, it’s sort of a tradition in my family to sleep with older men.”