The Wandering Vixen

By Candice Christian

Her Grandmother would have called Sydney a vagabond, but Lori was fascinated by the her carefree girlfriend and her lifestyle.
Lori is a thirty something librarian, and as fate would have it, she crosses paths with a sexy, free spirit, punk rocker, Sydney, who lives like a street person.

The coincidence bubbles over into a relationship and Sydney takes both girls on a journey among the free spirited people of the street. The romance becomes stronger and soon passion overwhelms them. Soon they are inseparable lovers.

But the relationship is tested by Sydney's wandering spirit and call to adventure. Lori has lived an unbelievable life during her time with Sydney. A life that will leave an imprint on Lori's soul forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tenth Muse
• Release date: Feb 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463694565

Candice Christian

Candice was born in Paris KY on 9 January 1988. Her parents, George Bertrand Christian, an attorney who once aspired to be an actor, and Frances Hollowell insisted that Candice and her sister Simone, be sent to a Catholic school. Candice was deeply religious as a child, at one point thought of becoming a nun.

Book preview

The Street Life

of the

Wandering Vixen

Candice Christian

Copyright 2019 Candice Christian

Published by Candice Christian at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Adults Only 18+

Acknowledgments

Mary Wollstonecraft

Part One

I first saw Sydney outside the downtown bus station. I had just arrived back in town after a trip to see relatives in a nearby city, and was about to catch a city bus home when I noticed her sitting on the sidewalk outside the automatic doors of the Station entrance.

There's always a group of young kids hanging around the bus station. Many of them live on the street at least part of the time, and the bus station is one of the few buildings that has public washrooms and drinking fountains which they're free to use. They panhandle, play, and just generally hang out.

What drew my attention was her expression and composure. She seemed so sure of herself; the sort of person who dealt with the world entirely on her own terms. Like most kids who spend a lot of time on the street, she was dressed plainly, in torn jeans and an old brown sweater with leather patches on the elbows. Her hair was no longer than two inches at any point on her head. I guessed that she was about twenty years old. She stood out to me because you so rarely see people who are so utterly comfortable with what they have in life.

As I was watching, a girl sporting long dreadlocks replete with beads and shells walked up to the group, and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Mind your own business, I told myself, as I stepped into the bus waiting at the curb and pulled out my paperback. But I couldn't resist a glance back over my shoulder as the city bus pulled away from the curb.

After that, I kept an eye out for street kids, my grandparents would have called them vagabonds, when I was downtown. . In the evenings and on weekends the downtown streets were packed with people, but during the weekdays there were mostly office workers out to grab a cappuccino on their break, single-minded shoppers, and street kids. Every once in a while I'd see her-- sitting on a park bench, leaning against a wall beside a group of kids playing hand drums, or walking down the street past the department store. There was always something about her presence which made me want to get to know her, although we seemed to move in completely different worlds.

Then, about three months after I first saw her, I was offered a transfer. I had been working in a library near my house in an old residential neighborhood, and a position was open