Poppy's Girl

By Charlie Clare

When Poppy picks up a woman on the run, her life changes forever.  

 

Vanya, sex trafficking victim now escaped, finds refuge and friendship with Poppy.  Their friendship blooms on the little farmstead, with the animals and the quilting projects.  Theirs is a quiet life, a temporary situation turning into something more permanent, as Vanya finds the space to heal.

 

Her protective, intense feelings are just friendship...right?

 

Poppy has never been interested in men, and she didn't think she was interested in women, either.  Perfectly content to live her life without romantic relationships, it's a surprise to her to find feelings bubbling up for Vanya.  

 

Vanya grew up in a culture where lesbianism was unimaginable, unacceptable.  She always assumed she'd find a husband she could stand, but lately, all she wants is to be close to Poppy.  

 

But if these feelings she's getting for Poppy are what people mean when they talk about falling in love...maybe she's not as straight as she thought.

Is their friendship turning into something more?  Can Poppy and Vanya find a happy ending?

 

Genre: asexual, lesbian 
Heat level: sweet
26,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charlie Clare
• Release date: Apr 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393387817

Book preview

Copyright April 2021 by Charlie Clare.  All rights reserved; do not reproduce without written permission from the author.  All characters and events are fictitious; any similarity to real people or events is coincidental.  Cover by Satyr Designs.  Image content is being used for illustrative purposes; any people depicted in the content are models.  

ABOUT THE STORY:

WHEN POPPY PICKS UP a woman on the run, her life changes forever. 

Vanya, sex trafficking victim now escaped, finds refuge and friendship with Poppy.  Their friendship blooms on the little farmstead, with the animals and the quilting projects.  Theirs is a quiet life, a temporary situation turning into something more permanent, as Vanya finds the space to heal.

Her protective, intense feelings are just friendship...right?

Poppy has never been interested in men, and she didn't think she was interested in women, either.  Perfectly content to live her life without romantic relationships, it's a surprise to her to find feelings bubbling up for Vanya. 

Vanya grew up in a culture where lesbianism was unimaginable, unacceptable.  She always assumed she'd find a husband she could stand, but lately, all she wants is to be close to Poppy. 

But if these feelings she's getting for Poppy are what people mean when they talk about falling in love...maybe she's not as straight as she thought.

Is their friendship turning into something more?  Can Poppy and Vanya find a happy ending?

GENRE: ASEXUAL, LESBIAN

Heat level: sweet

26,000 words

Poppy's Girl

by Charlie Clare

Chapter one

Poppy was minding her own business, settling in for the rest of her long drive, when something caught her eye that was to change her life forever. 

Passing a truck stop, she saw a man walking angrily away from it, a burly man with an angry, tough sort of walk.  Driving a little further, she passed a young woman walking quickly, with jagged, hurried sort of steps, arms wrapped around herself. 

The woman wore clothing that looked insubstantial, and seemed gawky, long-limbed, uncomfortable with her body, and very blond.  Poppy glanced back in the mirror as she drove, trying to catch a glimpse of the young woman's face.  Always fascinated by people, she wanted to understand what was wrong.

The glimpse she caught showed the young woman was either crying or... was that a bruise on her face, and a swollen, puffy eye?  What did she need to leave in such a hurry for, dressed so scantily on a cold evening, shading into a cold night?

Understanding blossomed, and somehow, Poppy knew the man and the woman were connected: he meant to beat her, and she wanted to get away.  Yet the hopelessness on her face spoke of not really believing she had a chance to escape.  Poppy pulled over to the side of the road, her heart pounding. 

Her little red four-door was in need of a good washing, and probably new tires.  It was hardly a charger for rescuing ladies in distress, and Poppy could think of no less suitable heroine than herself; and yet that girl was in trouble, and her heart went out to her, to the pure misery on that face.

Slowly, Poppy began to back the car up.  In her rearview, the girl drew nearer, her quick, jagging steps getting faster.  Poppy's heart pounded in her throat.  She wondered if she was doing something incredibly stupid, then leaned across and opened the passenger side door.

Steps quickened further.  In the mirror she could see the man: he was also walking faster.  He held something in his hand now, brandishing it as if it were dangerous.  She couldn't tell what it was, but he was armed with more than his fists.

As if they weren't enough.

The tall blond girl who looked oddly insubstantial in her very short skirt and silvery sort of off-the-shoulder top, hurried up to the car, bent and peered in, a quick look of a white, frightened face, even more bruised than it had looked in the mirror.

Get in, said Poppy shortly.  I'll drive quickly.

The girl ducked into the car, her long legs showing goosebumps, no tights.  She wore improbably tall heels, which had probably made her gait awkward.  She let the cold in with her, and Poppy could hear the sound she was making, a frightened sort of breathing, nearly a whimper.  She pulled the door shut quickly and Poppy, heart in her throat, trying not to look in the mirror, waited for a gap in traffic.

The man was running now.

Lock the door, said Poppy.  She bit her lip.  The man raised whatever he held and ran.  Oh, please, please...  Poppy pulled into traffic with a jerk, into a space that wasn't really large enough.  The car behind her honked and braked.  She sped up, her heart thumping wildly. 

For a few moments, she concentrated solely on driving.  Matching the speed of the other vehicles, going as fast as they did, as fast as she dared.  It was a long way from home, and she wondered wildly if he had a way to track her.  If he was a trucker, perhaps he could call other truckers and get them to look for her car?

He couldn't have seen the license in this lighting, but perhaps he'd got a description of the car.  If it was his wife, he could call the police...

Poppy glanced over at her passenger.  No.  Not his wife.

The woman sat with her arms around herself, shivering.  She'd forgotten to put on her seatbelt.  She had high cheekbones and very pale hair.  Her dull eyes spoke of panic and little hope.  Her hair was the sort of blond that seemed almost too pale, as if she had bleached it to death or come from a very northern climate.  It was a bit stringy, dull-looking, as if in need of a good wash.  The skirt rode high on her thighs, uncomfortable-looking.  Poppy thought it looked cold.

Poppy cleared her throat.  She reached over and turned up the heater.  She had some clothes in the back, and a folded picnic blanket, but didn't dare stop to get them until they were far away.  Besides, her guest might want out by then.  She might know just where to go and want to be let off quite soon.

Again, Poppy glanced over, and again, some inward voice told her: No.

I'm Poppy True.  What's your name?  She added a smile, still nervous about all of this.

The blond woman didn't speak for so long Poppy almost didn't think she would.  Then a quiet, rather hoarse, heavily accented voice answered.  Vanya.  She sounded Russian, and her name sounded Russian. 

Vanya.  It's nice to meet you, said Poppy.  Mentally, Poppy congratulated herself on guessing that the woman was of foreign extraction; but that might make communication difficult.

Do you know where you want to go? she asked, even more gently.  The woman was staring at the dashboard as if it contained a nameless horror, but she was too tired and hopeless to turn away.

Slowly, the woman shook her head.  I have nowhere.  The calm, utterly hopeless sound of those words made Poppy's heart sink.

Family? she asked.

In Russia.  They have enough troubles.  He will catch me.  He will find me and kill me.  I do not want to go back.  I would rather die!  The vehemence in her voice held a certainty Poppy hadn't expected from the look on her face.

Poppy took a deep, shaky breath.  Well, we won't go back, all right?  I don't think he can find you if we keep driving.  I live several hours away from here, in a very private area.  I don't think he could find us there.  Will you come with me until you can decide where you want to go?  Surprise overtook her, that she was inviting this woman home.  Her mother always said she