Memoirs of a Wild Child

by P Lewis, Cassandra

  As we headed to the Philippines, Dax came to sit next to me on the plane.

  “Hey,” he said quietly, grinning slightly.

  “Hey,” I said back, suspiciously.

  “Wanna join the mile-high club?” he said and waggled his eyebrows, I laughed out loud.

  “Oh, honey, I am a fully paid up, card carrying member of that bad boy.”

  “Really?” Dax asked slightly a little closer.

  “Oh yeah.” I nudged his shoulder with mine, “But I don’t mind racking up some frequent flyer points.” I turned and looked him in the eyes and the playfulness left them. He had been fooling around, but now he was assessing me, would I actually go there?

  Holding my gaze for a moment more, Dax stood and started to walk towards the front of the plane, turning to look at me again once he was a few feet away. I unclipped my seat belt and followed the rock star to the bathrooms in first class, and prepared for turbulence.

  Dax had already entered the cubicle and closed the door by the time I got there. I opened the door and followed him inside. We eyed each other for a moment, and then he grabbed my face in his hands, his mouth crashing against mine.

  Dax’s tongue parted my lips and rolled across my tongue. His kiss tied me in knots, and I reached for his belt buckle. As I unzipped his jeans, Dax spun me around, pressing me hard against the sink counter as he squeezed my tits and kissed and sucked at my neck. I watched him in the mirror the whole time; it was so hot. One hand travelled down my body and into the front of my yoga pants, fingering between my legs and making me push backwards, wanting more.

  He withdrew his hand and yanked my trousers and then my underwear down to my mid-thighs. From the back, he dipped a finger inside me, and then pushed two in completely; I gasped at the intrusion and leant forward to give him easier access.

  Dax fingered me for a few seconds, spreading my moisture and opening me up for him; then he held my hips and pushed his cock inside me, slowly at first, and then hard and fast. I held on to the mirror to steady myself as he pounded into me; my thighs were still closed, and it was intense.

  I bent forward more as he started to hit my g-spot, and I felt my orgasm building, Dax’s grip on my hips became tighter, stronger, and I knew he was close.

  I gripped the edge of the sink as I tried to keep from crying out; I looked into the mirror to see Dax lean back and look up to the ceiling and then I felt him come inside me. In an instant, my approaching orgasm was gone. I hadn’t made him use a condom; the drug using, slut shagging rock star had just fucked me bareback in an aeroplane toilet cubicle.

  I was silent as we cleaned up and dressed ourselves again, Dax asked me if I was okay, and what was wrong but I just brushed him off.

  First thing I needed to do in Manila was get a morning after pill, and an STD check. I was so angry with myself as I lay down under my blanket, plugged my headphones in and cried myself to sleep.

  All was good in Manila. I saw a doctor who ran some tests and gave me the morning after pill as well as a precautionary course of antibiotics. A couple of days later my tests came back all clear, and I was immediately relieved. It was the first time in my life that I realised my lifestyle could be dangerous. I steered clear of Dax, and all men, for a couple of weeks, keeping things pretty professional in the day and not partying with them at night.

  When we arrived in Singapore though, that all changed. Dax came to my hotel room and asked me to go to dinner with him. I couldn’t really say no, as I was heading out to eat anyway. We talked and laughed, and I explained to him my ‘no rubber, no sex’, policy. He apologised, explaining that he just got carried away at that moment. It was actually nice to be out and relaxed with him again.

  Dax came back to my hotel room that night, and we had fully protected, completely mind-blowing sex; and started something that I’d had no intention of starting.

  I became ‘that girl’. Without knowing it was happening, I was the girl on tour. Sleeping with the rock star each night and following him around each day. Granted I had a job to do but still, we became sort of exclusive and it was just not me.

  I fell into what could be called a relationship with Dax, and I suppose I did like it. He would sit with his guitar, writing and playing music while I edited photos I had taken and started putting artwork together. It was nice to be with someone creative for a change, I did like that he understood when I needed to just not talk for a while, and when I needed to get fucked up.

  That’s when the cracks started to show; Dax started to party harder, the longer the tour went on, and eventually the sober moments were few and far between. I tried to talk to him, get him to stop, I even stopped myself; seeing what drugs were doing to this enthralling, beautiful man was enough to make me stop completely. I didn’t ever want so much as a cigarette again. I guess me being totally sober made it harder because everything was even clearer, and I wanted out. I still had a few months on my contract, and I’d never backed out of a contract, but it was becoming unbearable, watching him spiral. He needed help, and nobody would listen to me.

  I tried to grin and bear it as we made our way across the world and back to the states, but when we got to New York, I had reached my limit. Dax had two days without work, and for those two days, he completely disappeared. I begged Phil to get him some help, and he assured me he would, but as soon as Dax resurfaced, Phil invited him to a party. Change was not coming, and I wasn’t going to stick around to watch him kill himself.

  “Mummy, come on, silly, you’ll be all wrinkly.”

  Holly stands next to the pool holding a towel, and I realise that I must have been sitting in the pool for ages. I stand, put Vinnie down on the sun lounger and take the towel from the girl. “Thank you, baby,” I say, wrapping it around my body as she runs back into the house. “That’s enough for one day,” I tell Vinnie, as I pick him up and head inside.

  I wake with a start and turn to look at the clock; six am. I don’t know why I’m awake at this time, but I don’t feel sleepy, so must have just been ready to wake up. Cooper is still fast asleep in his travel cot, and Ben is out cold, next to me. I get out of bed, pull on some yoga pants, a vest top and my cardigan and head out of the bedroom. Looking into Holly’s room, I see that she’s still asleep too, so I put on my flip flops and head out of the front of the house, down onto the beach.

  I sit on the beach, running my fingers through the sand and watching the small waves rising up and bursting on the shore. It’s been a year since I left that house and walked barefoot along this stretch of beach, towards Ben, and became his wife; a whole year has passed, and we did it. Three hundred and sixty-five days of absolute wedded bliss. The happiest year of my life.

  When Ben proposed to me, I knew I wanted to marry him, I was in no doubt that he was the man that I wanted to grow old with, but this was me. In the back of my mind, I was always worried that I’d get scared and run for the hills. Or that I’d get bored and run for another man’s bed, but now I know that will never happen. My Ben is everything to me; he still makes me laugh daily, makes me weak at the knees, and makes me come, like nothing I’ve ever known. He’s beautiful, he’s an amazing dad, and he gave me my babies. Even if he ticked none of the other boxes, that one would be enough, but he does; he ticks them all.

  I’m head over heels in love, six and a half years and two babies later, and my heart still skips a beat when I see, hear, or even smell him.

  “Morning, beautiful,” Ben startles me by leaning down and kissing the top of my head. I smile up at him, and my eyes follow his body as he sits beside me. “The monsters are still fast asleep, happy anniversary.” Ben nudges my shoulder with his and I turn to look him in the eyes as he leans in to kiss me. “Best year of my life.”

  He wraps an arm around me and I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder, and we sit, in silence taking in the beauty of the early morning calm on the beach. There’s nobody else around, just the birds pecking away at the sand, and the single dog walker who passed us a w
hile back.

  “I love you,” I say, without turning to look at Ben. “I know you know that, but it’s important to tell you. I know I kept you hanging on forever, but saying yes to that first date with you is the best decision I have ever made.” Now I sit up and look my husband in the eyes. “I wish I could marry you over and over again just so that I can show you how much you mean to me.” There are tears in my eyes; what the fuck has this man done to me?

  “Philippa Long, are you crying?” Ben says, smiling slightly and making me look away, embarrassed. He uses his hand to turn my face back to his and kisses me again, softly. “You’re everything to me, you have been everything to me for as long as I can remember and having you as my wife, makes me burst with pride every day. I love you.” He kisses me again, and we’re interrupted by the sound of Cooper’s cooing from the baby monitor in Ben’s pocket.

  “Duty calls,” I say, standing, and Ben grabs my hand, halting my progress.

  “I’ll go, you stay here and enjoy the view.” He stands up, kisses me again, and makes his way back to the house. I sit, and then turn and watch him walk into the front door. I’m so happy, I think, as I turn my attention back to the sea.

  It’s our last day in Portugal; we’re heading home tomorrow, and I’m a little sad. We’ve had such an incredible time here, as always. Being here as a family of four, in the house I have so many happy memories in, has made me feel complete. I’ve never felt a sense of peace like it before, and I hope it never ends.

  I sit on the beach and read over the last stepping-stone. Dax. There’s not much left to our story, and I look out to sea, contemplative, relieved that I saw the light and wasn’t blinded by his rising star. He found me at a time when I needed thrills and adventure, but without him, I may never have realised that I could find those things without the need for drugs, I’ll always be thankful to him for that.

  I didn’t write again while we were in Portugal. It feels unfinished and is niggling away at me, but Ben took the kids and me out for a fantastic day to celebrate our anniversary, and my auntie watched the kids so that we could go out for an evening meal. We flew home and sank back into family life.

  We’re in Buxton this weekend for Ben’s sister’s engagement party, and Holly is loving being with my parents. Mum and Dad are, of course, beside themselves to have their grandbabies close for a few days and hate having to share them with Ben’s family.

  Holly has been out for the day with Dad, while Ben and his sister’s fiancé have been playing golf. His mum and sister have been with me, Mum and Cooper, all day today, wedding planning and watching chick flicks, poor Coops.

  “Mummy, Avô took me to his church, and it was huge.” Holly runs into the living room as I hear Dad chuckling from the hallway; she speaks quickly, leans in to kiss Cooper’s head and continues. “We lit a candle, and we looked at the pictures in the windows and then there was a man and Avô called him father and he was nice, and he said he liked my shoes.” I laugh as she looks down at her red, patent shoes proudly and finally takes a breath. I can’t imagine any child of mine growing up to be particularly religious, but I know my dad would have just loved seeing how excited Holly was to go to church with him today. The first time I went, I was the same.

  She loves pretty much everything she gets to do with her Avô. Normally Holly is a huge daddy’s girl, wanting to go everywhere with Ben, he has to practically force her out of the bathroom so he can take a shit in peace, but when big granddaddy Carvalho is about, there’s nobody else in the room.

  She starts spinning and dancing, making me wince, nervously, while Cooper cracks up on my lap and makes everyone in the room laugh; I mean, babies laughing… right?

  Mum takes Cooper and starts to dance with Holly, swinging the boy around and making both of my babies screech with delight, it’s a wonderful feeling.

  Ben came home a little worse for wear about an hour after Dad and Holly.

  “I thought you were playing golf?” I question, amused.

  “We did,” he starts to laugh, “badly, so we went to the pub instead.” He laughs again, and so do I.

  “Holly went to church today.” I say as we get ready for bed, and Ben sits down, I suspect because his legs can’t hold him up anymore.

  “Oh, did she?” He tries to sound interested.

  “Yeah, she loved it bless her. She met the priest, and he said he liked her shoes.” I smile proudly; I chose the shoes.

  Ben shudders. “I was terrified of priests when I was younger. Do you remember that one who use to come to school, to do assemblies?” he asks, and I laugh,

  “Father David? He was lovely; he was Dad’s priest.”

  “No, he scared me. I thought he was going to send me to hell for having impure thoughts.” He looks serious and scared, and I laugh as I straddle his lap.

  “Were they about me?” I question playfully, as Ben squeezes my thighs and kisses my collarbone and then my neck.

  “Of course they were.” His voice is muffled in my neck, and I tip my head to the side.

  “That’s okay then,” I sigh, “because we’re married now, and God would have known that was going to happen.” Ben pulls back, and I look him in the eyes, he smiles.

  “I guess you’re right; in that case, I’ll be as impure as I like.” He throws me down onto the bed, making me screech and giggle, and then laugh harder as I try to take back the noise I just made in my parents’ house.

  All this talk of priests and churches has me thinking, contemplating a part of my story with Dax that I hadn’t planned on telling. I hadn’t actually told anyone as I think I blocked it out, but it was time. Vinnie needed details, all of them.

  Cooper woke early this morning. I think he’s cutting another tooth as his cheeks are bright red, and he seems to have a bit of a cold. I can’t settle him, and honestly, breast feeding sucks now that he has a couple of teeth. He’s finally worn himself out and is sleeping on the sofa next to me. He looks so cute but so sorry for himself, even in sleep.

  There’s nothing on the TV other than Everybody Loves Raymond and kids’ programs, so I decide to open Vinnie and close the book on Dax and my time on tour.

  I opened my eyes from a nap and looked across the bed, I was alone, again. I sat up and reached for my phone, it was eleven forty-seven pm, I had been asleep for hours. I groaned, this whole ‘rock star’ lifestyle was taking its toll on me, even without the partying, I was still up till all hours, travelling constantly and working my arse off. I wanted my own bed, a home-cooked meal, a day without booze and weed and whatever the hell else all of the people around me were taking.

  The job part of this trip had been great. My work had been elevated to a whole new level by being the official photographer for such a high profile band, and on such a high-profile tour, but the rest, I was tired of it.

  I swung my legs off the edge of the bed, feeling sleep tired and sluggish. I yawned and noticed then that Dax was asleep on the floor of the hotel room, jeans and boots still on, but his t-shirt beside him on the floor. I was done. I rolled my eyes before standing, packing my things, pulling on my jeans and boots and leaving, stepping over him as I did. I found a hotel about a block away and checked in, to their last available room. I dropped off my things and headed back out. I needed to clear my head.

  Maybe the noisy streets of New York weren’t ideal for that, or for a woman to be walking around alone at night, but I actually felt calm and safe here. I wished for a moment that I knew where the sex club was that Simon had taken me to, but he had kissed me all the way there in the limo and fucked me all the way back, so taking in the location hadn’t been the easiest of tasks.

  I walked, not really noticing the hustle and bustle as I was just considering getting the hell out of here in the morning,

  Dax would be pissed that I had left, and I’d be in deep shit for leaving before the end of my contract but fuck it. That could be ironed out, they would want the images after all.

  I couldn’t believe that in my mid
-twenties and at the height of my career, I had gotten myself into such a mess. I had been irresponsible; there was no two ways about it. I knew hooking up with a rock star was a mistake, but the lure of the wild nights was too strong. How ridiculous was that? I was a grown woman unable to say no.

  Had I really been unable? No, I was perfectly able, I was just totally unwilling. I had made it my life’s mission to fuck about and hey, I was no quitter.

  As I stopped at the end of a street and prepared to cross, I looked right, then corrected myself and looked left when I remembered where I was. A stunning church caught my eye. I’m not a religious person, but I do love impressive architecture.

  I was drawn to the building; it was dark and quiet out on the street, and the lights behind the stained glass were warm and welcoming. I pushed open the wooden door and walked inside; it was like the Tardis, what had seemed an average sized church from the outside now seemed like a cathedral. The heavy stone walls were high and curved up to a domed ceiling. It was quiet inside, but well lit. There was a lady kneeling at the front and a man next to her lighting candles. I wished I had worn trainers instead of heeled boots as the click of my stilettos on the stone floor echoed through the silence.

  With Dad being Catholic, I’ve obviously been into Catholic churches before, usually in Portugal and always this peaceful. There’s something about sitting in a church, whether you believe there is a god to talk to or not, that can send you to another place, one of reflection and contemplation. The couple from the front of the church passed me in the aisle and smiled, I returned the gesture and sat down on one of the long wooden pews. You could be in any Catholic church anywhere in the world, I thought, with a slight smile as I remember the first time my dad took me to church in Portugal. It was just like this one. Different in shape and size, but identical in décor and atmosphere.