Emily ‘Vixen’ Carter free porn video

Flying is deemed to be a man’s world but during the outbreak of World War Two, in nineteen thirty nine, the British Airforce found itself in need of an increasing number of planes and pilots. War, it seemed, was proving to be a social leveller in this respect, and out of the sheer desperation, the Air Transport Auxiliary (ATA) was born.

And so it was, that on the twelfth of July nineteen forty, I came into contact with Emily ‘Vixen’ Carter. A sprightly and spirited twenty-something, though she never divulged her true age to any of us, not even me. She was a pilot with the ATA and she embodied the motto ‘eager for the air’. Her primary task was to ferry new aircraft from the factories to the RAF squadron airfields, and I, Penelope Chase, was to work for her, organize her schedule out of the Castle Bromwich factory near Birmingham.

At once, I got the impression that she was never happier than when she was airborne. She would stride into the office each morning and with a bright and breezy manner inquire as to what I had for her that day. It never changed and I don’t know why she asked, it was always Spitfires. I think, secretly, she hoped for something bigger and with more than one engine.

I remember being in awe of her, at first. I was a studious eighteen-year-old and wanted to do my bit for the war effort, and I did my best to ensure that Emily’s workload was as straight forward as I could make it. My job was to liaise with the ground crew to ensure that the aircraft were in serviceable order, to take requests from the outlier squadrons and to make sure that no-one went without the minimum air cover required.

In truth, I think I was besotted with her and her lifestyle and I longed to be up in the air with her, experiencing all that she told me about. I smiled whenever I watched her climb aboard a Spitfire because I knew that she was happy and it filled my heart with joy to think that. Yet, as soon as she would start on her journey, my heart would weigh heavily hoping for her return.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: July 15th 1940
I have a new assistant. I have given her a few days to settle in but I think we are going to be firm friends. So far, she’s efficient at her job and I like the way she’s enthusiastic – just like me. Yet, there’s something else about her that I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s like she knows me already, knows what drives me; knows who I really am.

I look at her through the cockpit just before the chocks are released and I smile and wave to her but every time she turns to leave just as I do so.

~~~

We became close friends in no time at all and I would sit and listen to her stories of how she would fly the planes and push them to their limits as she delivered them to the squadrons. What if you were to lose control or crash? I would tell her. She always replied that if she didn’t push the plane to their limits, performing twists and loops then how could she be sure they would perform when in battle? She was right of course. Though I don’t think the Squadron Commander would appreciate her frolicking around in the skies like that.

Over the next few weeks, she must have flown several missions delivering the precious Spitfires to South Coast airfields such as RAF Biggin Hill, RAF North Weald and as far afield as RAF Exeter. Depending on the workload, their return journey would be either by freight plane back to Birmingham or sometimes, when the planes couldn’t be spared, by road transport.

Emily would often sleep in the back of the truck and as soon as she got back she would be out again with another delivery. In the first few weeks, I hardly saw her, I just organised the planes and let her know where she was going; provide her with the flight map, directions and time of arrival. Most of the time, Emily flew in sight of the land, and so I would also provide landmarks where I could; which never helped in the fog of course. All in all, she was away most of the time as the planes rolled off the production line.

She telephoned me from RAF Exeter once because, she said, she wanted to hear my voice. My heart filled with glee when she said that and we chatted until a flight was arranged for her return. It was then that she called me Poppy. At first, I wondered who Poppy was and then realised it was me. She made me promise to arrange a day’s leave for her when she got back, but all I could see were the mounting aircraft that had to be delivered.

When I had a moment, I looked at myself in the mirror and recited the name Poppy over and over. It caused me to smile – a very big smile indeed.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: July 24th 1940
Penelope was far too long a name and I just had to shorten it. I introduced her to her new name today, Poppy. I like Poppy. I am so tired at the moment and have asked Poppy to arrange a rest day for me. I need it. These long haul flights do take it out of you.

To be honest with myself, I would like to spend a few hours with Poppy. She has worked so hard over the last few weeks and I want to treat her.

I can’t wait to get back and see her.

~~~

I arranged for Emily to have the first of August as a rest day and had diverted her workload to a new lady that had just joined the crew; fresh out of training school, we were now up to seven women in total and more were being trained every week.

I hadn’t realised that Emily had also arranged for me to have the time off work too. We were to travel to Stratford-upon-Avon for the day. She had bought tickets for the theatre and we were to have a picnic by the river Avon.

At the theatre, I remember leaning over the balcony to look at the people below us. At one point Emily raised her hand and closed my mouth for me. I had never seen such a sight in all my life. It was such a grand theatre to be in.

The picnic was equally splendid. We found a nice location under a willow tree, we spread the woollen cloth to cover the ground and we drank water from champagne flutes and tucked into our pre-prepared sandwiches. There was nothing too fancy in them, just a little cucumber and some cheese. We giggled away the late afternoon. I had never seen Emily so happy.

I often had to catch my breath as she described her time in the air at the controls of the Spitfire. The plane had already become well known as one of the most modern fighter planes of its time and Emily, and her team, of course, transported them all over Britain.

She asked me what was the most exciting time of my life and I had to think hard about it. I slowly came to the conclusion that it was here and now, sitting with Emily on our picnic, being with her. I found my heart rate increase significantly as our eyes locked together. I went a little quiet, for quite some time. I wanted to tell her, but instead, I just shook my head and told her that I hadn’t experienced anything quite as exciting as flying. Then we were so rudely interrupted.

We eventually had to leave that beautiful spot on the River Avon and return back to our lodgings in Birmingham. Something special happened on that trip and I don’t know whether Emily felt it or not. I know I did.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: August 1st 1940
Poppy was like a small over-excited dog at the theatre. She had never been to a play before and it showed. I had to close her mouth for fear of her catching flies. I was conscious that my fingers lingered a little too long on her lips. I don’t think she noticed, or if she did, she hid it well.

The picnic was sublime. We had such fun together. The best part for me was when we linked hands and skipped along the waterside. I felt the heat from her soul blend with mine. We chatted freely but I think it was I that did most of the talking.

There was an awkward moment between us. The conversation fell silent. I remember sipping water from my champagne flute as we stared at each other. There was a lot that went unsaid in those few moments and neither of us seemed keen to spoil it. The moment was interrupted by a small boy running to pick up his ball that had come to a halt near to our hamper.

I feel so light-headed when I am in her company. I think she feels the same too.

~~~

The next few weeks were hectic. I had been promoted as well. Not so much in standing, but I now had two pilots to organise; Emily and Heather.

I found myself become quite scared as Emily spoke of her recent trip to RAF Manston, where she related a near miss with a fellow pilot of a Sopwith Camel as she was coming into land. Her quick reactions and the superlative dynamics of the Spitfire allowed her to climb rapidly and avoid the collision.

I was sitting on the arm of the leather sofa, in the pilot's lounge, and Emily was moving her hands together and spreading them apart as she related her story of the near miss. I wasn’t concentrating on her hands, my gaze was fixed on the point just inside her open neck shirt that billowed and collapsed with her movements. My vantage point allowed me the briefest glimpses of her pale body. I had never felt like that in all my life. But I secretly wanted to touch her. I know that my heart was pounding and my hands felt sweaty.

Suddenly, out of the blue, she asked me if I had been listening to anything she had said. I stammered profusely and declared that I had been. But, in that instant, I think she caught me raising my gaze to her face.

Emily turned to look out of the window and I lowered my head in shame. She suddenly jumped up and declared that she had to be off and deliver some planes. I presented her with the usual information and she disappeared to get kitted out.

I was left to stare out of the window; to contemplate on what had transpired.

It was twenty minutes later that Emily was striding out to the Spitfire on the runway. I watched her leave and hoped that she would return unscathed. I wasn’t expecting Emily to turn around and head back towards me. She dropped her flight bag on the ground and opened her arms; allowing them to fold around me. We hugged for longer than was proper. When she released me she squeezed my hand and bit her lip and told me that she would be careful and that I shouldn’t worry. She shook my hand affectionately before releasing it to run towards her plane.

I had to run after her with her flight bag. This time I watched Emily power up the plane. I watched the chocks being removed and I stared into the cockpit to see her smile and wave in my direction. I waved back. The smile on my face, the slight blush of my cheeks, my quickening breath and the thumping of my heart would have been clear to everyone as to how I felt at that moment.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: August 23rd 1940
I had fun today, a lovely morning flight to RAF Manston. Though, I did have a near miss with an idiot of a pilot that had some serious visibility issues. I reported him of course and was congratulated by the Squadron leader – no less.

I told Poppy of the near miss and she seemed frightened by it all. I also caught her looking at me. Not at me precisely, more towards my breasts. I had to turn away and look out of the window for fear that she would see the smile spread across my lips. I want to know what she really thinks about me. I hope it’s the same as what I’m thinking about her.

Before I left today, I ran back and hugged Poppy. I think I would have kissed her if the ground crew were not present. But I have to confess to you, my trusty journal, at that moment, I knew. In my heart, I knew that Poppy and I would – one day – be lovers.

If I had known then what I know now, I would have let my fingers linger on her lips for much longer when we were together at the theatre. And I would have made more of our time at the waterside in Stratford-upon-Avon.

~~~

Emily and her team were pushed around the country every minute of the day. On one such occasion, Emily flew to RAF Filton, in Bristol. She was eager and keen to be going to such a prestigious airfield as far as aircraft were concerned. She had joked, only the previous day in fact, that perhaps they would allow her to fly one of the Bristol Blenheim Bombers that were made there.

She was back at Birmingham in less than five hours; disappointment written all over her face. At least she had touched one and sat in its cockpit, but that was as close as she had made it.

We seemed to linger in the NAFFI a little too long that evening. Emily’s schedule was as tight as duck’s arse and I knew that if she didn’t get some serious sleep she wouldn’t be taking off for RAF Warmwell in Dorset the following day.

Emily wanted me to take tea with her at the late hour of nine in the evening but I had to refuse. Then she tricked me. She asked me to close my eyes because she had a present for me. I hadn’t seen anything in her hand so presumed it would be inside her room. I waited for her to unlock the door.

The present was a kiss. I felt her lips on mine and at first, it startled me. My eyes flung open and I gasped out loud and backed away from her. I waited for a door to open in response to the sound but none of them did. I looked at Emily. She seemed as scared as I was; like she was looking straight into the headlights of an oncoming car.

I knew she had done nothing wrong, but I don’t think she knew that. Not until I leant into her and returned her kiss with a passion that left me quite dizzy. By the time we broke apart, my hand was on the back of her neck and I had dropped the envelope of papers that I was carrying.

Her hand slipped around my waist and I felt her slide it downwards onto my bottom. I closed my eyes but in a sudden rush, she pushed me away and started to tell me that tomorrow’s flight should be a breeze. I was highly confused until I looked behind me to see Heather Brown walking down the corridor to her room.

I remember telling Emily that the flight should be fine and I reluctantly turned to leave her.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: September 9th 1940
I thought the Blenheim Bomber was the highlight of my day. The most traumatic moment of my life was when I asked Poppy to close her eyes. It must have taken me a good minute to work up to that kiss. I was convinced she felt the same way about me but the uncertainty didn’t help matters. I kissed Poppy full on the lips.

Journal, I can’t tell you what a relief it was when she kissed me back and when my hand found itself on her hot bottom I was in heaven.

It was short lived as Heather walked around the corner. I had to push Poppy away. I didn’t want to but I had to.

I’m now scared she will think badly of me for doing so. I hope she doesn’t.

~~~

That kiss – that kiss was out of this world. I had to rush back to my room. I immediately looked at the schedule and hoped that I could send Heather a million miles away, but I couldn’t. I flopped on the bed and my breath came quickly. My hand slid into my knickers but not before I grasped my bottom in the precise place that Emily had touched me. I felt her tenderness and her warmth as my other hand found my sex. It was all over in a few seconds. All I could think of was Emily’s hand doing the same to me as mine was doing right now. It felt so nice, so wonderful. I wanted to know whether Emily was doing the same to herself.

Unfortunately, the next day was too hectic for me to even smile at Emily or for her to return one. Four of the women pilots were heading down to RAF Tangmere in West Sussex as they had lost three aircraft in a recent battle over Southern England the day before. Personally, I don’t think it’s the aircraft, it’s the pilots, they’re getting younger and younger by the minute and they don’t have that all-important battle experience – or any experience come to that.

Emily and I spent a thrilling moment looking into each other’s eyes before she picked up her flight bag and left. I could tell that the smile on her face was borne of lust and not just an ordinary smile.

The four of them didn’t get back until gone nine in the evening. A siren had gone off within twenty minutes of them landing and their Spitfires were loaded with ammunition. The squadron leader ordered other people to get them airborne as quickly as possible. All other flights were grounded, and so Emily and the team spent the rest of the day in the NAFFI.

Emily and I waited in the bar for as long as we could that evening. We quietly sipped our drinks and I told her of the flights she had planned for the rest of the week. I took my time. I caught her glancing at my chest and I saw her staring at my legs when I went to get another drink for us both.

By the time I returned to our sofa, Heather had announced she was off to bed and Belinda followed her. I took a sip of my drink as I watched them leave. Emily and I never said a word in the five minutes that followed, we just looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. Waiting for that moment. Waiting long enough so that -

I think I was the first to put my drink on the table. I looked cautiously behind me and I leant in to kiss her. It was surreal. I was kissing Emily Carter in the bar; dressed in my blue navy skirt while she was still in her pilot’s one-piece uniform. My hands found the inside of her outer garment but I had to be satisfied with feeling her breasts from outside of her bra. I squeezed hard on them while our tongues fought each other.

Our kissing was punctuated only by the cries of each other’s names in the moments we parted for air. It was Emily that suddenly stood up and knelt on the sofa. Her hand had reached down past my skirt and was sliding upwards towards my groin. I felt her caress every inch of my thigh as I looked at her; my own eyes closing with excitement every now and then. I hardly felt her hand come upon me before it slipped over my knickers and then back down inside them. I only really felt the warmth of her hand on my hot sex when one of her fingers curled upwards and before I was aware, the pleasure was coursing through me. My heart was beating faster than a bumblebee’s wing and I was panting into the air as she pushed two fingers into me; accompanied by her tongue on my earlobe and then into my ear. I squirmed out loud as she took me.

I came hard on that sofa and I so desperately wanted to pleasure Emily in the same way. But at the end of my orgasm, she just cuddled into me and kissed me gently on my collar bone.

We never stopped talking about our feelings for each other, in the brief hour we had left. We discussed everything from the first time we met to the day at Stratford to the current events. I felt a little silly when she told me that she caught me looking at her and that she had to turn away for smiling.

We had to break for the evening, we had work to do the following day and it would have been improper to be found on that sofa in the morning, though we giggled profusely as we headed off to bed.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: September 19th 1940
Today was beautiful. Despite the extended round trip, the air battle and the uncertainty, I eventually found myself back in Poppy’s arms. I think the other girls are starting to realise that something is up, but I don’t care. Right now I’m on cloud nine but with my feet firmly on the ground.

We kissed tonight; more than kissed. I finally got to do something that I had been dying to do when I caught Poppy looking down my cleavage. I got my fingers inside her and gave her a most wonderful orgasm. I loved it when she came on my fingers so quickly and I loved having my tongue in her ear while she groaned out loud.

I wasn’t expecting her to be so wet but I was pleasantly surprised when she gushed upon my hand. That was a grand end to the evening.

We chatted for ages afterwards. I am so glad we found each other in this messed up world. I want the war to be over now. I want to be with Poppy and I don’t care what people will think of us.

~~~

We spent the next two nights in the company of hundreds of other people as Birmingham and Coventry experienced their portion of the Blitz. Despite being the second most heavily bombed city in the country, because of its role in manufacturing, I was amazed that our own factory seemed to have emerged unscathed. Air raids were common and yet we seemed to be in business despite the devastation that surrounded us.

Emily and I had little time for each other over the next few days as the schedule for delivery was extremely tight. All eight pilots of the ATA were on full schedules, delivering Spitfires to all parts of the country.

It was traumatic for me to be left alone while Emily braved the skies delivering much-needed air support to the Battle of Britain. The only time we got together, was the occasional hour or so in the company of others. It was not ideal. I so much wanted to get in her knickers like she had got into mine and it was murder to have to wait so long.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: October 5th 1940
This war will be the death of me. I haven’t kissed Poppy for over five days. It seems that long anyway. I’m sure she’s feeling the same way.

It’s been nothing but long haul flights to the South coast and back for all of us. The battle for air superiority is getting worse and I hope that our lads are winning it. Though, every time I look at the statistics it brings a tear to my eye. Why won’t they let us women fight as well? It seems so archaic to have us capable pilots and yet not label us as not fit for combat.

It’s wrong and I shall have to have words with some high-up official sooner rather than later.

~~~

The constant schedule of aircraft delivery has taken over completely. Emily seems to arrive back at base, gets handed another aircraft and is gone again. There is no let-up at all. We have had no time together since – since I don’t know when.

We steal the odd moment or two every now and then, but it’s just passionate kisses, gropes in dark corners – there’s no real release for either of us. I think we both need the release.

Emily is off to Bristol again tomorrow, I can see the despair on her face as she sighs heavily at the thought of flying South. I sympathise with her. I want her to stay with me for longer, much longer.

But it’s such an important job that we do. How could we deny that to our fellow countrymen and women? I know this and so does Emily.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: November 3rd 1940
I’ve had enough. Fly-return-fly-return-fly. That’s all it seems to be. What’s the point of doing all this when I can’t even get a kiss in. It’s alright for the women that have boyfriends, at least they get to fuck their men friends when they get back or kiss and cuddle them openly in the NAFFI.

We don’t, and I’m fucking fed up. I’m sure Poppy is too. I jokingly told her to crop her hair, grow a moustache and wear trousers to work. Life would be a lot easier.

~~~

Emily arrived back from RAF North Weald today. I had some good news for her, excellent news in fact.

I had had a word with our group squadron leader about the constant delivery schedules and told him, in no uncertain terms, that the workload would lead to disaster if the crew didn’t get R&R anytime soon. I told him it was imperative that certain members needed a good few days of rest, otherwise, they would be falling asleep in mid-flight.

I thought I had overstepped the mark when he suggested that I had important work to do and that I should leave the office to do it.

In an hour after my outburst, he stopped me in the corridor and handed me a new schedule.

I looked at it wondering how I was going to relate this to the flight crew. He told me I was welcome when he saw the smile spread across my face. It was a leave schedule and Emily and I were on it.

Emily jumped for joy as the news that our leave coincided with each other slowly sank in.

She pulled me close and gave me a huge hug which I eagerly returned. At that moment, it wouldn’t have mattered if Heather had walked in.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: November 12th 1940
We’ve arranged a day away, in a hotel, somewhere out of sight. I can’t wait for the fifteenth to arrive. I simply cannot. I am like a child in a sweet shop, and the sweets that I want are confined under Poppy’s dress or skirt. Sherbet fountain, Mint Bon Bons, Fruit Pastilles – she is made of all of them, but I especially like her Sherbet fountain.

I don’t know how she managed it, but I love her for it.

~~~

We never travelled far, only Stratford-upon-Avon. We had intended to go there, book into the hotel as friends, catch a play in one of the theatres, have a meal and head for our room for some well-earned privacy.

That never happened.

We did get to the hotel, we did book ourselves in. We did take the bags up to the room. And that’s where our plans fell apart.

I started it.

Emily was putting her bag on the bed when a loud thud announced that I had dropped mine on the floor. I immediately pushed my hands onto her bottom and moments later they were under her dress and clawing at her knickers which were pulled and then pushed down her thighs before my hand cupped her sex. I let her struggle to rid her legs of the dangling bit of cotton. My fingers were inside her in seconds with the palm of my hand on her bottom; stopping her from pushing backwards.

I forced Emily onto the bed, on top of her bag in fact. My other hand had reached around to her front and was forcibly entering her brazier.  Her flimsy dress ripped open at the front and my hand and fingers were pressing down hard on her nipple.

I know that Emily felt my urgent breath on the back of her neck as my fingers slipped inside her. I started pounding them into her and she couldn’t help but release whimpers that were loud enough to be heard in the room next to us.

I wanted her so badly, and the moment I saw her bottom bent over the bed I knew I had to have her. The door was half closed when I bit the nape of her neck.

We separated for a few moments to push the bag off the bed and allow Emily to climb onto it. I never gave her enough time to feel completely comfortable because as soon as she wriggled backwards up the bed, I was pushing her thighs apart and planting urgent kisses on her thighs all the way to her sex. Emily fell backwards as my mouth descended on her moist pussy. My tongue eagerly sought out her inner folds and I licked the full length of them before wallowing in the wetness and warmth of her sex. My mouth was all over her, my tongue inside her and my hands clawing at her buttocks as I licked her to orgasm. I finally pulled my face from her pussy and flicked and licked at her clitoris which seemed to have the desired effect.

I loved it when she screamed and panted as she came.

I needed to take her. I had needed it for some time, ever since she fingered me in the NAFFI and then wouldn’t let me return the compliment. This time, I had her.

Emily wasn’t to be denied, however. She was moving above me, despite her heavy breathing and her hands on the back of my head. Emily was moving her thighs and legs from under me. I tried to stay where I was and lick her pussy even more, but my actions turned me over and I soon found Emily had taken up residence between my legs.

I felt her hands tug at my knickers and I lifted my bum off the bed to allow her to tug them down my thighs. She pushed my legs apart and was crawling between them, planting kisses all the way up.

I pulled myself up on my elbows and smiled at her; knowing she would be surprised by what she was about to discover.

Emily gasped.

It was short-lived. She soon recovered and dived into my shaved snatch and devoured me. Her tongue and fingers were everywhere, all at once. Her hands a blur, that didn’t know where to come to rest first.

I came when she latched onto my clit, sucked hard and pushed two fingers inside my cunt. I never knew I had it in me but I drenched her face with my fluids as my orgasm took over.

Emily couldn’t wait to suck up my juices. She also couldn’t wait to crawl up the bed and share them with me. I know full well that I wanted to share everything with Emily that I possibly could, and this was no exception.

We ended up giggling as we shared the rewards of our early afternoon sexual frenzy. When Emily joined me, we just lay in each other’s arms and kissed; passionately at first, but our kisses became tender as the energy wore off.

Laying there caressing each other’s bodies was divine.  Simply divine. We spent ages touching, feeling, kissing, exploring. Slowly we pushed each other towards the next sexual maelstrom; our bodies turned on and excited with every kiss and touch of every finger. It was I that started it by sliding a finger between Emily’s lips. She was quick on the uptake and in no time at all she had a finger in me too, except it was in my arse. Something I had not experienced at all and yet – it pleased me.

At that point, I wondered how much Emily had experienced, and with whom. I parked the thought as it really didn’t matter. What mattered was here and now, in front of me, pleasuring me.

We both came a second time in a way that surprised me. Emily took the lead and showed me a technique that I had not even thought of. She grabbed my leg and placed it between her breast moved towards me so that our pussies were touching and then she started to rub herself against me. I watched, eagerly, as our sexual organs slid past each other.

Emily was shaking her bottom on my leg causing our lips to rub furiously. I watched her shake her head from side to side, grasp my leg hard between her breasts and fuck like she was on heat. She was on heat. She was coming.

Emily let out an almighty groan as she ground herself into me, but she didn’t let up. She kept up the furious motion, rode her orgasm until it was my turn. I’m glad to say that I reached the same level as Emily – it just took me a little longer.

We collapsed on the bed, kissing once more but this time tasting the sweat and salt that oozed from our rutting bodies. We both looked at the clock. It was six fifteen and we were still in bed. Emily mentioned that we seemed to have missed the day and the picnic and the walk along the river. I nodded, grinned and kissed her some more.

We showered, together. It took a while as we were intent on getting everything as clean as we could. I came again in the shower. I wasn’t expecting her to push the loofah where she did and we seemed to have deformed it a little in that process. We may have to pay for the damage, but it will be worth it.

We eventually went out to eat. We did get to see a little of a darkened Stratford. On the way home I found my hand up her skirt, caressing her bottom. There was a shout behind us, some guys had twigged that we were both women and it wasn’t long before the rude words spilled from their mouths. We ran back to the hotel – to safety.

It never put a downer on our time together. We knew that what we had was right and that no social stigma was going to change that. Yet, when we got into the hotel room, both of us panting, we looked into each other’s eyes for that confirmation.

The kiss she planted on my lips said it all.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: November 17th 1940

Oh! Fuck! Talk about being completely satisfied. The whole day was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Poppy was putty in my hands as I was in hers. We hardly ate all day. We hardly saw the day. It wasn’t until seven in the evening that we decided we had to eat something if only to bolster our libidos.

She tastes heavenly. I’m so in love with her.

I want to write down that Poppy is shaved and a gusher. I want to write that so that one day I can read it, smile and remember. I do believe this day’s entry will be the most read in all of my journal.

I don’t know why men have so many social issues with us women. They seem to think that we are for their use only and get angry, annoyed and belligerent when they see us as different. It never changed us – why would it. Tossers!

I can’t believe we have to go back to work tomorrow.

~~~

Emily is back on duty. This time it’s to the Wealden Hills, somewhere in Dorset. I know I’ve provided the maps and everything but after our day together I don’t want her to leave. I don’t want to know where Wealden is. I don’t care anymore.

I received a quick phone call from her, telling me that the three planes they delivered didn’t have any pilots to operate them and the sirens had gone off. I could hear them over the phone. Emily and Heather had already propositioned the squadron leader to allow them to fly the planes. Her argument was that the squadron would be useless with three planes less than normal. He had agreed of course, and she was over the moon.

I was terrified.

On that day of 18th November 1940, Emily got her wish, and flew in combat with the men. All three of the women did. The German Luftwaffe were coming in their hundreds and Emily was up there with them, together, side-by-side, in the Battle of Britain.

We were later told that the sirens were squealing all over the South coast. The invasion was widespread.

Later that day 18th November 1940, I got a call from Group Squadron Leader Lawson, informing me that Emily’s plane had crashed into the Wealden hills and that –

I shook my head. That wasn’t true – that wasn’t Emily. I eventually spoke down the phone to the Group Squadron Leader telling him that it wasn’t Emily.

He had convinced me it was: it was her jacked in the cockpit and he described a silver cross that I had given her. He told me that the fire was horrendous and that –

I zoned out completely. I lowered the receiver; clinging to it as it nestled between my breasts. My finger disconnected the call, cutting off the Group Squadron Leader completely. I slowly replaced the receiver and I realized that I was never to see Emily Carter again, not in the flesh.

I cried.

It was a day later that Emily’s body was recovered. Only Jessica returned home, a second Spitfire was seen smoking and heading out over the channel towards France, it was assumed to contain Heather.

A few days later I was called to the flight commander’s office and was presented with a wooden box that belonged to Emily. I was told that she had written a letter informing them that it was to be handed to me. I looked inside it and saw that it contained her diary.

It had a lock on the front and it was three days later that I received the key for the lock. It was a small key that she kept around her neck, on a gold necklace, attached to the key was a metallic label with the name Poppy on it.

~~~

I have been sitting on this bench now for thirty minutes on this cold November day, reading the entries and remembering our time together.

Earlier, I saw a wooden box being lowered into the ground at Camberley cemetery on a cold morning in late November. I watched her parents and brother grieve openly at her passing and I – I watched from a distance clasping dearly onto her precious diary. I opened it and read the last page that she had written.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: November 18th 1940
I have never felt so alive in all my life. Poppy is my rock and the water that washes over me every time I take a breath. I simply don’t know what I would do without her by my side. I adore her. Last night was – well, last night was amazing. The way we kissed and made love – it was just like flying; blue sky high above and green grass below; delving down and skirting the white valleys of her thighs before coming up for air. When I come back from this trip I shall just have to blurt it out and tell her how much I love her with all my heart. I may even tell her how old I am.

My parents won’t like it one little bit. I shall be disowned, I know that. I hope that in time, little Jimmy will come to understand.

I can’t wait for this war to be over so that Poppy and I can be together.

~~~

A tear dropped from my eye and hit the page; immediately smudging the ink beneath it and I snapped the book shut as quickly as I could for fear of the words tearing me apart.

I looked up to see the funeral party shuffle and move away from the graveside. I hugged the diary, close to my chest, as they turned to leave. I cried so hard. They, of course, mustn’t know, but I so desperately want to tell them how much I loved Emily and how much she loved me.

Emily, and all her comrades that flew during the war contributed to its overall success. We don’t think of them as heroines. But we know that in our hearts all of them were special, some more than others.

My work refused me time to grieve for Emily. I don’t think she would have wanted me to anyway, but it was with regret that I had to return to work. I had been assigned two more pilots. Neither or which meant the same to me.

Nineteen days later a Westland Lysander landed at the airport.

I was looking out of the window and all I could see was this perfectly round bottom climbing down from the passenger door and onto the tarmac. When she turned I let out a loud gasp and went as pale as a sheet. I had seen a ghost. A real ghost.

There was a loud bang in the office as my chair hit the floor. I got up to run outside. Papers flew everywhere, the door was slammed shut, people that were in my way were pushed aside as I ran down the corridor. I exited the building in a rush that nearly caused my heels to make me fall flat on my face.

I looked up at the woman walking towards me. I recognised the smile. Her bags hit the floor as she came running towards me.

I did the same, and somewhere, in the middle of the runway, we collided. Our arms wrapped about each other as she grabbed my waist and hoisted me in the air.

I shook my head, “you’re supposed to be –” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.

Emily Carter just smiled.

“No, seriously, I was told. They’ve given me your journal. They found your flight jacket in the burnt out aircraft that crashed, they found your journal key in the pocket. You…” My hands were all over her face, stroking her, pushing her hair back from her fringe, smudging her lipstick.

She told me, very matter-of-factly how they made the mistake. That it was Heather in that plane. Heather had run for the wrong one when they got the signal to join the men, Heather got in the one with her jacket tucked down by the side of the seat and that it was Heather’s plane, with Emily in it, that was shot and limped all the way to France on a seemingly one way trip. She told me of how she was hidden by the French resistance and how they arranged to get her back home as soon as they could.

I cried my heart out on that runway as we hugged. We both did.

A day later her parents were told of the mistake and they all came to visit Emily. I could only guess at their relief of not having buried their precious daughter after all. I could also guess at what Heather’s parents were being told.

In a quiet moment, her mother walked towards me and asked me if I were the girl that was sat on the bench at the funeral all those weeks ago. I nodded, not knowing what to say to her. It was Emily that came up to us both and proudly announced to her mother that I was the one she was in love with. She introduced me as Poppy.

You could have heard a pin drop, but at that moment, her mother was more pleased with having her daughter back in the land of the living than knowing all the facts about her upcoming relationship with me. I don’t know, perhaps she surmised that it would, one day, go away.

~~~

Emily Carter, Diary Entry: December 10th 1940
I’ve now got my diary back, but the look on Poppy’s face when she saw me alight from that plane – it was as if she had seen a ghost, which I suppose, for her, was quite true. My parents were equally traumatised but relieved; especially little Jimmy, who then asked me awkward questions about why they stood at a graveside and cried for me. It was so sweet of him to say that.

Mum was not pleased with my news but she had to know about Poppy. I was not going to keep it a secret any longer. Whether she would tell father or not was up to her.

I love Poppy. I absolutely love her to the moon and back. I shall not be volunteering for more combat – that’s for sure. I think I’ve had my fill of fighting, thrilling though it was.

~~~

Epilogue

Emily Vixen Carter and Poppy both survived the war.

Emily was discharged from the Air Transport Auxiliary and eventually found fame and fortune as a commercial pilot transporting planes from their factory to where they were needed. She was never happier than when she was airborne – unless of course when she was in the arms of Poppy.

Poppy found work as a personal assistant to the manager of one of the larger banks. Both of them kept their secret as best they could. Few knew they were lovers and Emily’s father never found out. They lived in the South of England overlooking a beach. Somewhere where Poppy could walk their dog, breathe the fresh air, and look forward to a nice glass of wine in the arms of her lover.