Chapter 2: Cupcakes at Dawn

Poppy woke up with her alarm, and kind of wished she could hit snooze.

She hadn’t been having the most amazing dream. Poppy usually didn’t have sex dreams, and when she did they were pretty tame; it’s not like she hadn’t a lot of experience to draw from. But this dream… she kind of wished she could snuggle back under her covers and finish it. Besides, her dream man was just getting to the good part after teasing her relentlessly.

She couldn’t see his face, but his voice was so deep that the vibrations shook her bones. And he was big. Dream Poppy had been practically dwarfed by the size of this man. Not to mention the glimpse she had just had of his dick. It was amazing. It would ruin her in the best way possible, she just knew. He had been playing with her, teasing her nipples and nipping at her thighs; just shy of where she really needed him to touch her.

“Are you going to let me fuck you, my good girl?” His voice had sent tremors through her and she could feel her pussy start to get wetter.

“Yes.” She breathed.

“Yes what, little girl?” his face was right there. She could feel his breath teasing her folds.

“Yes daddy.” It was part moan, part prayer.

And then, he sat up and she could feel his large body dwarf hers as he raised over her.

“That’s my good girl.” He purred in her ear as he positioned himself, hovering just over her, his chest brushing her hard, aching nipples.

And he had been there, so close, she could practically feel his member at her entrance, the tip teasing her slick folds even as more of her juices spilled out of her very, very ready pussy… and then the stupid alarm went off and she woke up, because no matter what, Poppy couldn’t sleep in.

She groaned as she rolled off her slightly deflated air mattress; she was going to need a new one soon. It was to the point where she had to fill it up almost every night. Her body was covered with a slight sheen of sweat and her thighs were slick with her want. Poppy had never really been this turned on before. But she didn’t have time to take care of herself.

No matter how often she had done this, 3:30 am still felt stupid early. She had been doing this same routine for almost five years now, ever since she left foster care her senior year of high school.  Technically, she could have stayed for one more year, but what was the point?  She was in a group home at that stage, and any hope of a family had long vanished.  So she just packed her things on her eighteenth birthday and quietly left.  Poppy hadn’t told anyone at the school, apparently no one at the home had either.  She just went about the rest of her senior year doing her best to graduate and keep good grades so she could earn a scholarship to college.

It was stupid to leave when she did, she now realized.  She hadn’t had a clear plan, just grabbed her shit and went.  Even one more day in the group home probably would have killed her, though; the house was crowded, too many people with too many chips on their shoulders.  And Poppy, who was doing her best to keep her nose clean so she could graduate, was usually the target of the others.

Despite the conditions of the group home, though, Poppy used to wish she had bothered to think the leaving part through more thoroughly.  Maybe then she wouldn’t have been prey to someone like Mrs. Crist. Maybe she would have had a better plan for her future, taken the time to find a less predatory job, a livable apartment. But she couldn’t undo her past mistakes. And it had taken her a while to figure out just how messed up her situation was. By that time, it was too late to dig herself out.  Not that she hadn’t tried over the years.

At first Mrs. Crist seemed like a godsend to a kid with no backup plan and no home. A job that paid weekly, plus an apartment! Poppy had almost fallen over her self to sign the contract, especially when she heard she could take occupancy immediately.  And that Mrs. Crist would pay in cash, every Friday.  It sounded too good to be true.  And it was, she realized after only a month.  The apartment was in disrepair and Poppy had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t actually approved for occupancy.  There were other apartments on the second floor of the bakery, but none of them were occupied and Mrs. Crist would only let her move into the one.  Given the state of her studio place, Poppy had to assume the others were even worse. Also, she wasn’t able to see the apartment until after she had signed the contract and lease.

There were red flags everywhere, she just hadn’t seen them.

She was desperate, and desperate people don’t look too closely at a good thing.  All through the next five years, Poppy would remind herself to slow down on her decision making.  Next time, take a moment to review all the information and look at things with an objective point, not just desperation. And always save up what you can every pay day. Even if it’s only five dollars.  Because every little bit counts over time.

If only she had read the fine print on her contract! Mrs. Crist was all about money, specifically making it and keeping it. Paying her employee meant less money she could keep. Thus her end goal was making sure there wasn’t much left for Poppy at the end of the day.  First the hourly rate was on the lower end of acceptable; which hadn’t bothered Poppy in the beginning as she got a good deal on the apartment.  Second, though, the apartment was barely habitable.  It was a studio above the bakery and Poppy was fairly certain that it wouldn’t pass an inspection, if it ever had.  She had been so thrilled to have income and a place to stay that she hadn’t thoroughly reviewed the implications of either.  Lesson learned.  Always read the fine print.

Mrs. Crist was a terrible boss and an even worse landlady.  She charged Poppy extra for anything she could think of as often as possible. Often, she would withhold some or all of Poppy’s pay to “make up the difference” in case there was anything that she felt Poppy owed her for.  Like if she thought Poppy used to much flour to dust the counter when making breads.  The extra flour was a waste of resources, and thus came out of Poppy’s paycheck.  Or when the mini fridge in Poppy’s apartment broke and had to be replaced.  Mrs. Crist found a way to charge Poppy for that too.  Too much hot water, electricity, heat? Extra deduction from her check, despite the fact that Poppy paid for her own utilities.  At the end of the day, Poppy barely had enough money to cover food and tuition.  She made due with an old, cracked phone and the cheapest plan she could find.  She didn’t have a car, and barely had any furniture.

She was also fairly certain that Mrs. Crist went through her apartment every so often, looking for any spare cash that Poppy might have laying around. Or anything that might be of some value. She learned quickly to hide or take the most valuable things with her when she left her apartment or the bakery. Mrs. Crist hated spiderwebs, so Poppy found the most web infested area to pry up some lose boards in the floor and wall. It was far easier than it should have been.

Poppy was counting the days when she would be done with college and could focus on getting a marketing job, preferably with a company that had paid time off; right now if she got sick, that was it, no pay, and Mrs. Crist would charge her for business lost since there were no fresh items to sell that day. When she was done with her degree, she could leave all this behind: the crappy hours at the bakery, the dingy apartment that was one loud sneeze away from falling apart… all of it.

She could finally have a real bed, not an air mattress. Her kitchen would consist of more than a mini fridge, microwave, and a sink. She could afford to eat more than just ramen noddles. Imagine, being able to afford milk!  Poppy could almost taste it.

Poppy rolled over and smacked her alarm as these thoughts ran through her head, even as she tried to forget her rather exciting dream, determined to make it through today. One more semester. And then an internship. She was already applying for those. Her prospects looked good in that department. She already had a few bites from companies in the city.  The best part? They were all paid internships!  Maybe one more semester and then she could quit the bakery.  That might mean looking for an apartment, but she was pretty certain Melissa would be happy to have a roommate for at least a semester.

And with this potential catering gig, she would finally have enough cash to pay her tuition. And who knew, maybe this one job would lead to others. Jack’s catering was known for paying well.  More money meant she could afford a nicer place.  Maybe even a car.

Poppy didn’t want to get her hopes up, she was used to things never quite working out. But still, getting this job might just be the leg up she needed to dig herself out from under Mrs. Crist and finally start actually living instead of just surviving.

Poppy went through her morning routine almost mindlessly. She had done it so many times: wash her face, brush her teeth, pull her hair back into a tight braid before wrapping it around her head so it would fit in her hair net. Get dressed. Go downstairs and put on her apron before starting the day’s baking.

Mrs. Crist never let Poppy work the front, so she never got any tips or any money that Mrs. Crist couldn’t control. No, that honor went to Mrs Crist’s niece, Sara. Sara was just as bad at baking as Mrs. Crist and just as good at hoarding money. She was training to manage the bakery when Mrs. Crist retired. That meant managing Poppy and how to cheat her out of most of her paychecks, too.

Poppy stayed in the back kitchen area, making all the day’s goods until 9 am. Then she went off to her first class; in the evening she came back and prepped for the next day’s baking and goods.  Mrs. Crist had tried to change her hours so that there was more fresh items to sell, but Poppy reminded her that more hours meant more pay.  And her contract stipulated she was part-time.  Anything over her thirty-five hours a week would mean Mrs. Crist would have to pay for insurance, retirement, and give her more money.  All things Mrs. Crist avoided at all costs.

Today was no different than any other day. Poppy went down to the bakery kitchen and started her prep work. She proofed the dough for breads and bagels. She got out the hundreds of different cupcakes and cookies and sweet treats she had prepped the night before and started baking and decorating. Occasionally, Mrs. Crist or Sara would come back to grab items for the display or let her know they were running short of a certain item before flitting off, leaving Poppy in the hot kitchen, alone.

She didn’t really mind the work. It was nice to be alone in her domain. What bothered her was that more and more, the bakery felt like a prison. Mrs. Crist knew she was almost done with college and apparently was starting to realize that when Poppy left, she didn’t really have a backup plan. Neither she nor Sara knew how to bake, nor did they care to learn.  And they would be lucky to find another baker as good as Poppy who would work for the peanuts Mrs. Crist paid. There weren’t too many desperate orphans looking to survive and not be on the streets who would be willing to do what Poppy had done for the last five years.

Poppy was being to suspect that Mrs. Crist was not going to let her go easily. Just to be sure, she made it a point to document everything, in case Mrs. Crist tried to withhold pay or claim she damaged anything.

She already had a go bag packed and hidden in her apartment. There were a few times, she swore Mrs. Crist, or someone, had been rummaging through her things when she was at work or school. Not that Poppy had a lot. As a former foster kid, she had left the system with pretty much only what could fit in a worn out duffle bag. And her meager life at the bakery and college didn’t really give her much money to buy things that would add to that.

In short, Poppy was used to leaving on a moments notice. She had some emergency money hidden in her bag. It was a habit but also a necessity. Especially now that Mrs. Crist seemed eager to sabotage Poppy’s future.

Lost in thought she was startled when her phone rang. Poppy glanced at the screen. It wasn’t a number she recognized.

“Hello?” She answered hesitantly.

“Poppy Wallace?” A brisk male voice on the other end demanded.

“This is she.” Poppy tucked the phone between her shoulder and her ear and kept mixing dough for the next batch of cookies.

“This is Jack Johnson, you applied for a job with my company last night.”

“Err, yes.” Poppy was surprised; she hadn’t expected to hear back so soon. She had filled out the online application last night that Melissa had sent her, so it was less than twenty-four hours since she submitted it.  She was a little taken aback at the turn around.

“Great, I looked over your resume and you seem like you’d be a good fit for this gig. Can you come in today to interview? Say around 10:00?” Jack sounded like he was no nonsense, and in a hurry. Maybe a little desperate?

Poppy nearly dropped the phone in surprise. She had only barely dared to dream that she would get to the interview process. And she hadn’t expected the turn around to be so fast.

“Yes, yes I can be there.” She stammered as she mentally ran through her schedule. Today was Thursday, her first class didn’t start until 11 am.  She doubted the interview would last an hour, so she had some time after she got off work at 9 and before her class started.  She would just have to show up to class in her interview clothes; no big deal.

“Great. I’ll see you then.” And with that, Jack hung up. He definitely was a no nonsense kind of person.

Poppy stared at her phone for a moment before it all sank in. She had an interview! She couldn’t wait to tell Melissa. However it was only 8:30 in the morning, and Poppy knew that Melissa was probably still sound asleep.  Her first class was the same as Poppy’s, and Melissa was often late because she slept in. To be fair, her friend waitresses most evenings until the wee hours of the morning.

She would have to wait until after 9 when she clocked out anyway. Mrs. Crist got extremely angry when she caught Poppy on her phone during work hours.  Poppy was lucky to have been able to take that call without getting caught.

She had a half an hour before she was done for the day. Poppy couldn’t wait. She had a good feeling about all this. Like her life was finally going to change.

“Poppy! I need more strawberry cupcakes!” Mrs. Crist swept into the kitchen, destroying the quiet peace of Poppy’s morning.

“On it.” Poppy finished mixing the cookie dough and set it aside to grab what she needed for the cupcakes.

Thirty more minutes, she told herself as she put the batter into the oven. Thirty minutes then I can get out of here.

In reality it was closer to 9:30 when Poppy was able to break away. Mrs. Crist wouldn’t let her leave until the cupcakes were done and decorated. Poppy ran upstairs and took the quickest shower she could in her tiny bathroom. The water pressure was horrendous, but she made do. It would be better to have her hair up anyway, so washing and drying it would be a waste of time.

By 9:50 she was sprinting down the street, hoping she wouldn’t be late for her interview.

Fortunately, Jack’s catering was only a block or so away from her work. At exactly 10 am, Poppy pushed through the doors of the business, out of breath but on time.

“May I help you?” The receptionist looked at Poppy’s flushed face and heaved breathing with one elegant eyebrow raised.

“I’m Poppy Wallace, I have a 10 o’clock interview with Mr. Johnson.” Poppy tried hard not to gasp for breath and give away that she had sprinted down the street.

“Ah yes, have a seat. Mr. Johnson will be right with you.”

Poppy tried not to plop as she sat in a comfortable arm chair. For the first time since waking up, Poppy realized how tired she was. She really hoped Jack would show up soon before she fell asleep in the waiting room. That chair was too comfortable for her own good.

Fortunately, Poppy did not have to wait long. Almost as soon as she sat down, she was being greeted by Jack Johnson himself.

He was a young man, in his late twenties, she guessed; younger than she had expected, that’s for sure. Dressed impeccably in a fitted suit that had obviously been tailored for him, Poppy suddenly felt underdressed for the interview. In her defense, she only had one pencil skirt and a white blouse that she wore for all professional endeavors and those she had thrifted, so they weren’t exactly the latest fashion. Nor did the fit her like they had been made for her.

“Ms. Wallace,” Jack shook her hand vigorously, “so glad you could make it. Please follow me.”

Poppy followed Jack into a largish conference room where he offered her tea or coffee. Less than thirty minutes later, she was leaving again, contract in hand. The interview had been surprisingly quick.  Poppy got the impression that Jack was in a hurry to get this job staffed; it was happening on Friday, after all.

She didn’t remember the walk to campus and her first class, a few blocks away. She was so happy. She had gotten the job. Friday night, show up at the catering headquarters at 3:30. Further instructions would be given once the team was all there. And it paid, well.  More than she would make in almost two months working the bakery, without Mrs. Crist finding ways to cheat her out of some pay.

Poppy could not believe her good fortune. Finally, finally things were starting to go her way.