Lightning Can Strike Twice

This story is dedicated to the women of Montreal and Quebec City. In keeping with their heritage they are truly cultured, stylish, and beautiful.

I have never understood why Anita can sometimes be such a complete bitch and sometimes such an angel.

She is intelligent, educated, and extremely beautiful, just as I am. But that is totally predictable. After all we are identical twins. Our mother is French Canadian, and our father is English.

Most of the time Anita is an amiable, vivacious, and likeable human being. She is extroverted and extremely popular with both women and especially men. She is sophisticated and well dressed in keeping with her job in banking.

I, on the other hand, work as an archivist and am quiet and introverted and have few friends. I dress more simply than my sister, and my mother once told me that I am dowdy. I'm sure that she was not trying to be cruel but nonetheless her comment was very hurtful. I am not good with men, and I get tongue tied if I am asked to interact with them socially.

When what I am going to describe happened I was 27 years old and a virgin, and I was very keen to get laid before I was a year older. I just didn't know how to do it.

1

My sister and I shared a house in Québec City. It was in Vieux-Québec (Old-Québec) and belonged to our parents. I felt so privileged to live there.

Québec City is one of the oldest European cities in North America. It is the only fortified city north of Mexico that still has walls and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is characterised by its narrow cobbled streets, stone buildings, and French Canadian culture.

Most of the population speak fluent French and only around forty percent speak reasonable English. Our French, Québécoise French, is a dialect of European French.

The day it started was a July Saturday in the late afternoon-early evening, and we were riding on The Old Québec Funicular railway (Funiculaire du Vieux-Québec) to the Lower Town (Basse-Ville) when I saw him looking at us.

I thought that he was the most attractive man I had ever seen. He was tall and slim, and well dressed in a casual sort of way . He had peppery brown hair and piercing, intelligent, blue eyes. Those eyes alighted first on me, probably because he saw me looking at him, and then moved appraisingly backwards and forwards between the two of us before looking away.

My sister was fully made up and wearing a blue designer dress whilst I was in blue jeans and a white tee shirt. I wore very little make up. We were a very incongruous pair of identical twins, but both tall dark-haired and beautiful in our different ways.

And then I saw him studying us again. This time he was a little more brazen than before and as I looked away in embarrassment Anita finally noticed him and gave him a smile.

In that moment, my heart dropped. I knew with absolute certainty that if he was available and Anita wanted him I would not get a look in. I consoled myself with two thoughts. One was that he was looking at Anita and not me, and if I had been alone he wouldn't have been interested. Another was that with or without Anita I wouldn't know where to start getting to know him.

A little later we were walking down the Rue de Petit-Champlain when we saw him again. We were walking towards The Boulevard Champlain at the south end, and he was on the other side of the narrow street. He crossed toward us as my heart started to skip beats and my mouth go dry. I just didn't understand my response at the time, but it was " love at first sight" or more properly "second" sight.

In French "un coup de foudre" or a thunderbolt.

"Excuse me do you speak English."

His voice was mellow, and his accent was a nondescript English one.

As I stood there trying to compose an answer, Anita replied.

"Yes we do."

"Do you know of a decent mid-price restaurant near here?"

Anita took her opportunity,

"We were just about to eat ourselves. If you aren't with somebody there's a good place nearby we're on the way to. You are welcome to join us if you like."

And just like that he was hooked.

We sat in the restaurant, ate fish, and drank white wine. As usual Anita talked and I listened, and so did Matthew; that was his name. To be fair to her, she is witty and a good conversationalist. The only problem was that I had heard many of her stories before, and she didn't need to sell herself to me, although she was turning the charm on for him.

During the course of the meal we learned that Matthew was a 35 year old British metallurgist who was employed in the aerospace industry in Montreal. He had been In Canada for 6 months and was taking the opportunity of a week's holiday to visit Québec City. He was single and had been advised that the girls of this city were the prettiest in North America because they had the fresh looks of North American women but the style and dress sense of the French.

And he smiled when he said this, and my heart fluttered. And then I looked down at my blue jeans and up at my sisters dress but when I looked at him he seemed to be looking at me.

Eventually we drank our coffee and settled the bill equitably and Matthew announced that he needed to go back to his hotel and pack and then get an early night because he was getting an early morning flight back to Montreal. So we said our goodbyes and left the restaurant with Matthew hurrying away in a different direction.

He got about twenty yards down the road when Anita called after him, and when he stopped she ran up to him and they had a brief discussion and exchanged notes. Then she leant upward and pecked him on the cheek and smiled at him before he walked away.

"What was that," I said.

"Phone numbers."

And inwardly I grimaced.

When I got home we watched a little television and then since I was tired I decided to have a reasonably early night and showered and went to bed.

I was woken in the wee small hours by the sounds of the bed in my sisters room and it was soon apparent from the moans and groans that there was somebody with her, and that somebody was fucking her. And I was absolutely sure that I knew who that somebody was.

As I lay in the dark listening to the sounds from her room the thoughts in my head went around and around.

Why was I so shy and stupid?

Why hadn't I indicated to Matthew I liked him?

Why didn't' I dress more like Anita? But if I did what difference would it make if I sat like a lemon and did nothing?

And then.

Hadn't Anita seen I liked him?

And I felt hurt and betrayed, and with tears in my eyes I covered my ears with the pillow and finally fell asleep.

2

The next morning, despite the fact that it was a Sunday, I woke early. I dressed and went into the kitchen where I tidied , laid the table for our customary late breakfast, and prepared for our Sunday evening meal. A little time later Anita appeared dishevelled and bleary eyed.

"Busy night?," I inquisitively asked.

She smiled and disappeared back into the bathroom, and I heard the shower running. Half an hour later she was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and nibbling on a piece of toast.

After a short time I brought the subject up.

"He was nice wasn't he?"

"Who?"

"Matthew."

"Yes. And clever and good looking. Shame he lives in Montreal really."

"When's he coming back?," I asked.

"I wouldn't know. He didn't say did he? I gave him our number. Maybe he'll phone if he's coming back."

And she got up and went into her room whilst I stood holding the table white knuckled and blinking back my tears.

I did my best to move on from the events of Saturday evening, but it was very difficult. I was both love- struck, betrayed, and hurt. I tried to behave normally but I was even more withdrawn and quiet than usual, and It must have showed.

Eventually on the Wednesday afterwards, and in the evening, things came to a head.

Anita turned to me and spoke,

"Natalie, what's troubling you? You seem really unhappy?"

"You don't know?, I said."

"How could I?"

"You slept with Matthew! You knew I liked him. And then behind my back you brought him to this house. and you fucked him . I heard you both Anita."

"She looked at me with a look of blank astonishment and then a knowing look crossed her face. This was followed by a look of sympathy."

"Oh Honey! You've got it so wrong! That wasn't with Matthew me it was Andre!"

"I'm so sorry."

And she crossed the room and held me tight as I sobbed with relief and happiness.

She explained that, like me, she did like him but unlike me she hadn't fallen for him. After coming that evening she had felt horny, and she had rung her fuckbuddy Andre. That is what I had heard.

"I should have told you on Sunday. I would never have done that to you."

Later when I had calmed down we spoke some more, and Anita told me that if I liked him that much I should ring him and ask him to come to Québec City one weekend. I told her I would think about it, but I knew that in the end I wouldn't be able to. My awful shyness would prevent me doing anything.

For the next few weeks I mooched about the house thinking about Matthew and my paralysing impotence and wondering whether I was doomed to die an old unhappy spinster. I said this to Anita, and she smiled,

"Don't be so dramatic Natalie. Anyway Mums coming Friday evening. I thought she might cheer you up. But don't worry I've not told her anything specific."

"Can you pick her up from the airport? I'm working. She'll ring tomorrow and give us her flight number and arrival time."

Sure enough Mum did. She would be on The Air Canada flight from Toronto arriving at seven pm. The last thing she said before she put the phone down was.

"Porte de quelque chose de joli ma cherie. Utilise le maquillage . Je veux nous emmener tous dans ce bon restaurant. J'ai fait des réservations et Anita nous rejoindra plus tard."

"Wear something pretty my dear. Use makeup. I want to take us all to that nice restaurant. I've made reservations and Anita will join us later."

I cursed her Québécoise style and dress sense but knew that I would do as I was instructed. After all I didn't want to be considered dowdy. I also knew I had to wear something of my sisters to be stylish enough for mum.

3

Friday evening arrived .

Québec Airport is very close to the city, about eight miles away, so I took a taxi. I arrived at the domestic flight arrivals gate about twenty minutes before her flight was due and waited.

I felt so self-conscious and overdressed as I stood there fully made up in a long yellow silk evening dress.

Suddenly I heard a familiar mellow English voice talking to me.

"Hello Natalie, what are you doing here?"

It was Matthew. He stood there smiling at me, and my heart skipped, and my mouth went dry, and I stood open mouthed. Eventually I managed to reply.

"I'm waiting for my mother. She's on the Toronto flight."

"I'm afraid she isn't coming," he said.

"She never was. But she did make reservations for two at a very nice restaurant I understand. That was just after I spoke to your sister who asked me whether I would like to come to Québec City and take you to dinner. She didn't think you would mind."

And then I did something I don't do.

I swore.

"Bitch."

He smiled.

"Which one."

"Both."

4

Matthew was staying at The Auberge Saint Antoine with its views over the Saint Lawrence River. This was close to the port and the restaurant on The Rue Saint-Paul where we had a reservation for half past eight. We took a taxi to the hotel and while I waited at the reception he hurriedly showered and changed clothes.

We arrived at the restaurant on time and the maître-de asked, in French, for the name of the reservation.

"Hollins."

He must have noticed the English accent.

"Oh yes. Good evening Dr Hollins and Mademoiselle Jarvis. We have your table ready. Your meal and wine are already paid for. I hope you enjoy your evening."

That evening was wonderful. It was the second most romantic evening of my life. The most romantic evening I may talk about later.

The table was by the window and had a candle and a single rose placed on it. I can remember everything that we ate that night, and I can remember the names of the wine we drank but I can't remember much of we talked about. The food and wine were excellent as was the service; attentive but not intrusive. James was the perfect gentleman, and he was perfect company.

I was so aware of his masculinity and so drawn to him, and something about him put me at my ease and for the first time in my life I was able to speak to a man without feeling shy.

After dinner he walked me home. I had already agreed to meet him early the next morning to show him the city. I stood on the doorstep. He looked me deep in the eyes.

"Natalie. You are truly beautiful."

Then he kissed me on the cheek.

"See you in the morning."

And he turned and left.

And I rubbed my cheek where he had kissed me and went inside.

Anita was sitting waiting.

"How was your evening?"

"Wonderful. Thank you so much. Only you could have done that."

"And to think I called you a bitch."

"Don't swear Natalie. You never do that. If you're not very careful you might do something else you never do."

She smiled and her eyes glinted. I marvelled at how different we were and knew I loved her.

5

The following morning just after eight o'clock, and wearing blue jeans and a plain white blouse, I had breakfast with him at his hotel, and then I took him on a tour of the city. We walked in Battlefields Park, and I showed him the Plains of Abraham where in 1759 The British and General Wolfe fought the French under General Louis-Joseph, Marquis de Montcalm, and following which the City became British territory.

In just under an hour this pivotal battle in our history involving only 10,000 men left both generals dead, decided the fate of New France, and ultimately resulted in the creation of modern day Canada.

As I stood there holding his hand I tried to explain the importance of our unique French heritage, and the meaning of the motto of The Province of Quebec.

"Je me souviens."

"I remember."

We spent the day sight-seeing. I showed him Place Royale, we walked in the streets of Upper and Lower Old Québec and visited Notre Dame de Québec. We drank coffee in a small café and at lunchtime we ate the Québécoise dish poutine, made of French fries and white cheddar cheese curds in a brown gravy sauce.

In the afternoon we visited Dufferin Terrace and strolled hand in hand along the wooden boards and looked down on the city. And then we had a beer in the Fairmont Le Château Frontenac.

He was so easy to talk to. I had been in his company on only three occasions, but I felt I had known him far longer. We walked and talked. To be fair, at first he talked more than I did, but I am a great listener, and when I did have something to say he paid attention. As the day progressed I found myself more and more relaxed and started to talk more and he started to listen more.

I told him about my parents' divorce, and what it was like to be an identical twin, and my job as an archivist, and how I wanted to travel. He told me about his upbringing as a single child in Surrey. He had received his PhD in metallurgy seven years before and worked in the aerospace industry in Bristol in England prior to going to Montreal.

He asked me if I wanted children and I told him at least three. And he smilingly enquired why.

I told him it was because my sister had always told me that she didn't want children and that I would have to have them for both of us and because we were genetically identical I could pass on her genes to future generations for her.

6

In the early evening I walked home and showered and changed for dinner and then made the short walk to his hotel where he had also changed into his glad-rags. This time I had borrowed a red gypsy skirt and embroidered white blouse and I knew I looked good.

"Oh! Wow!"

That evening we ate in a bistro. It was a simpler meal than the previous evening but no less enjoyable. We were drinking coffee when I could wait no longer.

"Matthew will you please take me to bed, "I softly murmured.

"Only if you're ready."

"Oh yes."

Hand in hand we walked back to the hotel and took the elevator to his room. When he closed the door behind us he took me in his arms and kissed me on the lips and I kissed him hard back.

We kissed for long minutes and then I felt a man's hardness against me for the first time. He slowly stripped me taking time to smother me with kisses as he did and then he removed his clothes. He was slim, muscular, and flat bellied.

When I was ready he slowly entered me, all the time looking enquiringly into my eyes to make sure he wasn't hurting me. He needn't have bothered. I was in heaven both physically and emotionally and being a virgin I had no idea how much better it was going to get. So Matthew showed me, and as he moved on me I squirmed and wriggled under him, until I cried out and climaxed, and shortly afterwards I felt him shudder and softly groan.

We slept and then a little later he showed me how I could sit astride him and ride him. In the morning before breakfast he introduced me to the delights of oral sex. Following this I was so hungry that I ate the equivalent of two breakfasts.

That morning we visited The Montmorency Water Falls and as we stood entranced by the spectacle Matthew turned to me and told me he loved me, and as he held me tight in his arms I told him I loved him too.

7

In the months after we married I learnt things that put everything into context. I had asked Anita how she been so sure that Matthew would be right for me. She had played matchmaker by arranging my meeting at the airport and I wondered if she hadn't been worried he would break my heart if things hadn't worked out.

She finally came clean and admitted that when she had run after him on the evening we all first met, and before they had exchanged telephone numbers, she had asked him if he had wanted company later. His reply had been,

"And what about your sister?"

She hadn't felt guilty until later when she understood my feelings, but she had learnt that he was an honourable man and she had trusted him.

"And you have to take a chance occasionally Natalie"

Later I asked Matthew why he hadn't told me my sister had propositioned him. He told me that it wasn't important, and he hadn't wanted to cause friction between my sister and me.

You are both identical on the outside but on the inside you are both very different. You make me whole and complete me in a way your sister never could. I knew that from the moment I met you. And sensing he was being too serious he smiled and added,

"And when I first saw you on the Funicular in your blue jeans you had the most perfect arse I had ever seen."

And It wouldn't have mattered if you sister hadn't played her tricks because I would have phoned you within a day or two anyway. The day after I met you on the Funicular I went to the UK for three weeks on work and I only got back a few days before I met you in the airport. All the time I was In England I was thinking about you. I loved you from the moment I saw you.

It's called "un coup de foudre," isn't it?