Her Twin

Campion Theriault sat and watched as the wedding guests danced to the swing song the band played. He loved to dance, danced with several of the single bridesmaids, even with relatives, but decided to sit out a few songs to, as he told a disappointed aunt, "relax and catch my breath." That excuse was a lie. He didn't need to catch his breath or relax: he was a Division I college soccer athlete. He just wanted a drink, something alcoholic, to calm his nerves. He thought he saw a former college girlfriend, Stephanie Marchinski.

The two met the first time he stepped on campus for soccer practice. Though she majored in English, she worked for the college's Sports Information Department as a paid student assistant, someone that took photos of student-athletes and wrote their profiles for use by local and national media. Though she was two years his senior, they began an almost instant passionate and sexual relationship, something they never hid from his coaches or the SID officials, something that wasn't frowned upon either.

The relationship lasted for her final two years at the school, plus another while she worked on her Masters and worked part-time in the local minor league hockey team's media and public relations department. It ended on a warm June day, a week after she accepted a high paying job with the hockey team's parent company. It took a week from Campion to come out of doldrums, but once he did, he went full-throttle in trying to forget Stephanie.

That was a year before, and he thought she was out of his mind. When he saw Stephanie's doppelganger, his heart sank. He thought she was back, looking for him, wanting him back in her life. It was as he ended a line dance with several single women, Campion noticed that this woman though had her looks, stature, and curves, the hair was wrong: it was the same long length and color Stephanie had when they first met, a mix of her natural chestnut and sun-bleached strands.

He finished the last of the amber-colored liquor and looked back to where she stood. She was gone. Campion stood and before walking to the bar for a refill, scanned the room, hoping to see the Stephanie twin. He sighed heavily: She was not in the hall. He bowed his head and took a few steps before walking into someone.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

"No, the fault was all mine," a familiar-sounding female voice said.

He looked up and gasped: This woman had the same eyes as Stephanie. Gathering himself, Campion spoke, "No, if I hadn't been looking down, I would have seen you." She went to speak, but he interrupted. "Pardon, and this might sound creepy, but you look like someone I used to know."

She giggled and looked away. "I've heard that before," she whispered. She smiled and took his elbow. "My name's Rebecca," she told him. She led him to the bar. "Let's refresh your drink first then let's talk."

"Mine's Campion," he added quickly.

"What an unusual name. It sounds like it should be a literary character's name. Do you know why you were given such a name?"

"Yes I do, as a matter of fact." They reached the bar, he ordered a Pepsi, she a red wine.

Rebecca turned and asked, "How come you're not having a drink?"

He chuckled, "Because I've hit my limit." When they reached his table, he pulled out a chair for her to sit.

"Such a gentleman," she demurred. "I've not run into many men that would know to do this."

"It goes with the name," Campion added. He took his seat and looked at her more closely. He noticed that her eyes were a different shade than Stephanie's, a lighter shade of brown. He also noticed that, though she had Stephanie's facial and eye shape, Rebecca's jaw jutted slightly more.

She took a sip of her wine and looked at him, deep into his eyes. She smiled, seeing him begin to blush, and grabbed for his hand. "So Campion, tell me how you came to having the name."

He caught himself, stopped looking at her ample cleavage. He looked away for a moment and composed himself. "It's not that interesting a story, actually. My mom attended a Catholic school and found the name of one, St. Edmund Campion, lovely. Well, just the Campion part."

She laughed politely and tightened her grasp on his hand. "That's a good story."

He felt something when she tightened her grip, the same electric charge that coursed through his body whenever Stephanie touched him. For a moment, his mind flashed back to their last time in bed, a day before Stephanie broke off their relationship. A devilish smirk came to his face as he remembered her warm lips on his growing penis.

"I wish I could be in your mind right now," Rebecca said.

Campion eyes widened. "No, I don't believe so."

"I bet I do." She leaned into him and whispered. "I think you were thinking of someone special and not in a so special way."

He felt his heartbeat pound, felt it want to leap out of his chest. Some sweat appeared on his brow and on his palms. He breathed in short breaths.

"Are you okay?" she asked. She looked at him again, this time with an expression that said to him, "Tell me, I want to know how dirty your thoughts are."

Campion swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak, but halted. He wanted to ask her to accompany him back to his room, to have passionate sex, because he felt a "vibe" from her. He knew it was wrong to be so presumptuous and let it die before it hit his lips.

Rebecca's smile left her. She furrowed her brow and tilted her head slightly. "Did you have something you wanted to ask me? You can ask me anything you want."

Campion finished his Pepsi and looked wide-eyed at Stephanie's twin. He took a deep breath and spoke, "I know this is very presumptuous and I can completely understand if you slap my face, but I have a room upstairs, but would you like to accompany me back to my room and talk some more?"

Without missing a beat, the woman answered. "I would love to." Rebecca stood and held out her hand. "Lead the way."

Neither spoke as they ascended in the elevator, just held hands and looked forward. His breathing surprisingly leveled off, no longer was it labored. The sweat that once soaked his brow was gone. His hands were not clammy. Most importantly, he felt calm and excited, as if being with Rebecca was natural, like he was with Stephanie again. He looked over at her and smiled inwardly. Rebecca had the same size breasts as his former lover; at least, that's what they appeared to be.

"Like what you see?" she asked.

Campion blushed. "What, what do you mean?" he fumbled.

"I saw you checking me out." She inhaled deeply and held the breath, causing her rather large chest to expand more.

He couldn't say a word: she was Stephanie's twin and he lusted after her. He nodded slowly.

"Good," she whispered. "I like what I see of you."

Campion, dumbfounded, stood silently and stared at her. For a moment, he swore she was Stephanie, from the look of her hair to the perfume she used. He felt his stomach fill with butterflies. He felt like the first time the two walked back to her apartment: The nervous anticipation of seeing her naked for the first time coursed through his body.

The elevator reached his floor, both breathed deeply as they exited. "It is right here, room 611," Campion said. He reached into his pants and removed the room key. He opened the door and allowed her to walk in first. His eyes followed her curves down to her bottom. Again, he saw Stephanie and not this stranger.

She stopped and turned. "Wait until you see it without clothing. It's more spectacular."

He smiled and agreed. "I don't doubt that for a second." Campion closed the door, tossed the key on the small coffee table and closed the distance between them. With his right hand, he cupped her chin and pushed up her face. "Pardon me," he whispered before putting his lips are hers.

She moaned softly, like Stephanie. Her lips were warm, soft, and wet, like his former love. She crushed her breasts against his body, a familiar action. She reached down and gently rubbed her hand against his crotch.

Campion opened his eyes and expected to be back at the small North Carolina apartment where Stephanie lived when they first met. He thought he heard the steady hum of the cars on the highway a few miles away. He thought he got a whiff of freshly baked bread, like from the bakery that was a few blocks from the apartment building. He wasn't back in the Tarheel State, but in front of him was her: the woman was Stephanie.

"Hello," she spoke softly. He shook his head, an attempt to remove the vision in front of him, to remove the incredulousness he felt. He tried smiling, but the disbelief made it look like a grin.

Campion closed his eyes for a moment, believed that this would snap his sight back to reality and not be what he wanted to see. Rebecca stood in front of him again.

"Come with me," she cooed. She took his hand and led him into the bedroom. She pushed him onto the bed and took a step back.

He looked at her and his mouth dropped. She removed her dress, let it fall to the floor and stepped out of it. Her breasts pushed the fabric of her bra to its limits. She had Stephanie's cup size, though it appeared they were more pendulous. He looked at them again and saw dark areolae peeking through the cup tops.

His gaze went lower. He noticed that, like his former lover, Rebecca's midsection wasn't thin and she had hips, curves that he loved to call dangerous. Her panties matched her bra, in color and material. He could see that she kept her pubic hair thin: No hair was pushing through.

She looked into his eyes and chuckled. "Aren't you going to join me?"

He nodded and slipped off his shoes. She smiled and slid down her bra straps. She reached behind her and unhooked her bra. Without hesitation, she allowed it to fall, exposing her large and beautiful breasts.

Campion felt himself drool. He did every time Stephanie exposed her bosom to him, from the first time when he was just an 18-year-old freshman until the last time they fucked. He went to apologize, but stopped when she didn't notice.

Rebecca arched her back and raised her large breasts with her hands. She offered them to him. "Do you want to suck on my nipples?"

"God yes," was his response. He leaped off the bed and took her by her shoulders. He kissed her hard and passionately, his hands moving down to her chest. She placed his hands on, moaning when his skin touched her soft flesh.

She broke their embrace. "Take me," she commanded.

He lifted her off her feet and gently placed her on the bed. Campion quickly removed her panties, exposing her wet pussy. She smiled and opened her legs.

"You want to taste it."

He nodded and began to remove his clothing, throwing the suit jacket over the bed, before tearing off the shirt.

"Hurry," she forcefully moaned. She lay back and pulled her knees up. "It's so hot for you."

He chuckled, remembering that Stephanie used that line the first time they were together. His clothes followed, sent to the bedroom floor. He crawled onto the bed, near her feet, and slowly made his way up her body. He left soft, gentle kisses on her thighs.

"Lick my cunt, you teasing bastard."

He smiled: it was another Stephanie line. Without hesitation, he placed his mouth over her engorged labia, felt the warmth coming for her. He plunged his tongue deep inside.

Rebecca grabbed his hair. "Tongue fuck me."

Campion complied: he put his hands on her round, ample ass and pulled her closer. His tongue went deeper; her moan became guttural, almost animalistic. He felt her second hand grab his hair.

"You're so fucking good," she screamed. "Eat me you bastard. I can cum. Oh my God, I can cum."

He felt her become warmer. His mouth filled with more of her juices. She released his hair and thrust her hips forward.

Her orgasm was sudden, her orgasm intense. She filled the room with an animalistic cry that wasn't like his former love.

Rebecca didn't rest, didn't take a moment to catch her breath. "Fuck me, Campion. Put your hard cock deep inside of me."

He released her ass and slid forward. He placed his hardness at the edge of her pussy and stopped. He looked into her eyes and smiled devilishly. "You want it. Here it is."

One quick thrust and he was deep inside her. He felt her cunt tighten around his cock, constrict like a hand. In the past, even with Stephanie, it took Campion longer than most men to orgasm, but he felt his begin within a few pumps.

"Oh fuck," she cooed. "Your cock's harder. Are you going to cum?"

He nodded: the proper words escaped him. He thrust twice more and his love juices escaped, collected inside of her.

He rolled off her. "Wow that was quick." He didn't look at her, afraid she would be upset. Campion felt her hand reach down and touch his cum-covered penis. To his surprise and shock, it began to engorge again.

"I know I'm young but wow," he mumbled.

"I think it's me," she answered. Rebecca kissed his cheek before making her way down to her hand, to his ever-increasing hardness.

Campion looked at her, watched as she approached. He remembered how Stephanie loved to clean him, lick and suck their juices from his cock. He tried to get on his elbows to get a better view, but tiredness overtook him. His head hit the pillow; his eyelids became heavy.

"Wow, I've never felt sleepy after cumming before," he spoke, his voice just above a whisper.

Finished cleaning him, she spoke, "That's okay, darling," she answered. "I can take care of this myself."

He felt her climbing on top of him. His eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them, she looked like someone else, no longer Stephanie's twin. He shook his head, tried to keep his eyes open, but they closed again.

"You look different," he mumbled. She looked like an older woman, someone in her 60s. Her breasts sagged down to her belly button, her hair was gray, long, and scraggly.

"Shush," she whispered. He was fully inside of her.

He blinked and her appearance changed back to Stephanie. "Oh Stephanie," he moaned as he felt her grinding her hips, grinding her pussy against his body.

"Let me do the work," she cooed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he was too tired. He tried fighting off sleep, but thought better of it. "I'm sorry," he spoke before falling asleep.

"What time is it?" he asked sleepily. He reached out for Rebecca, believing she would be close. He touched only sheets. Campion opened his eyes and noticed it was dark. He turned to the nightstand: The clock read 3:31 AM.

He tried to get up, wanted to walk to the refrigerator to grab something cold to drink. He had no energy, felt as though someone or something drained him. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed: Stephanie Marchinski crept into his mind as he slipped back to sleep.

The phone rang: It was his wake up call. Campion needed to be down in the restaurant for breakfast with three cousins, the bride's brothers Henry and Francis Theriault , and a mutual cousin, Regina Lazaro. The four of them were going to talk, catch up on their lives.

He slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember the previous night. More specifically, he was trying to understand when Rebecca left. He remembered her going down on him, cleaning him off, the rest was a blur.

Campion walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror: what stared back at him he barely recognized. His eyes were sullen and darkened. His skin tone was lighter. His lips were pale. Campion looked as though something tried to drain the life out of him. He walked to the small fridge and pulled out a can of Dr Pepper.

He loved the soda and could drink a can quickly, but he surprised himself. He downed the drink without taking a breath. It didn't satisfy his thirst. He grabbed a second, popped the top, and chugged.

Eventually, he made it back to the bathroom. He looked better, color had returned to his lips. He turned on the shower.

"You look like shit," Francis told him as he sat. "What the fuck happened to you?"

"I don't remember much," Campion started. A server interrupted him: mature woman.

"Would you like to see a menu or are you going to have the buffet?"

"I'll have the buffet, thank you." Campion declined the coffee she held in her hand, but asked for a large glass of chocolate milk.

"What do you mean you don't remember?" Regina asked.

Campion inhaled deeply. "I remember going up to the room, and I remember the first two times she orgasmed."

Henry asked, "Did you get her name?"

He nodded. "Rebecca," Campion answered. "That's what she told me."

Regina leaned in and whispered, "Is she a real blonde, or was her hair a dye job?"

Campion looked at his cousin, confused. "She wasn't blonde. She looked like Stephanie, my last love."

Henry shook his head. "No, she was an older redhead, one with small breasts."

Francis spoke, "You mean she wasn't a Latin girl, short and darker skinned than you?"

The four sat silently, their eyes wide, each unable to truly comprehend what they just discussed.

"You mean, we've seen a completely different woman?" Regina realized.

Her cousins nodded.

"I don't mean to butt in," a female voice began. They turned and saw an older woman standing near their table. She was holding a plate. "I couldn't help but hear you talk about a woman who appeared differently to each one of you."

"That's about right," Regina answered for the cousins.

"Do you know something about this?" Campion asked.

"You look terrible, Sweetie," the woman said. She touched his hand and looked into his eyes. "You've been with her."

"What do you mean, 'her'?"

Henry grabbed a chair from another table and placed it at theirs. She invited the stranger to sit.

"Our small community has a legend. A year after its founding, an older woman appeared one night at the tavern, asking for entrance and a place to stay. The owner, a kindly Easterner, invited her in and offered a bed. One his way up to show her a room, he saw her appearance change: She looked like his first wife, who died during childbirth 25 years earlier.

"The tavern owner screamed in shock and asked the woman to leave, but she refused, telling him that once she was invited in, she never had to leave. The owner, upset, tried to drag her out, but she didn't move. She stayed on the stairs. He left her and went to get some help. When he returned, she was gone. He thought she ran out of the tavern.

"After this, a woman would appear to men and easily seduce them; appearing to them as the woman he most wants. She would ask them to bring her to his room or a room where they would have sex. The man would pass out and when he awoke in the morning, he would feel as if part of his life-force had been stripped from them."

Campion gasped loudly. "What happened to these men?"

She took his hand and smiled. "After a while, he would be himself. His appetite would be insatiable for a day or two, but would be normal to him after that. We've not heard of someone dying after meeting this spirit, this succubus."