I’m sitting in the back of a cab, wearing the most professional outfit I own. It’s a prim black skirt that ends just above my knee, a flattering white blouse, and some black loafers. I’ve got my hair tied back and very plain makeup on. I feel like a nice, well-behaved, innocent girl, and I pray that’s what I look like.

“The Avalon. Sixty-Ninth and Fifth,” the cab driver says, pulling up in front of a really fancy apartment building on Manhattan’s most expensive boulevard.

I’ve always loved this neighborhood. It’s the home of the Plaza, delicious fancy delis, upscale restaurants, and boutique clothing stores I’ve never been able to afford.

I look out the window at the apartment building. It really is the quintessential New York, billionaire residence. There are doormen standing in front of the building wearing fancy red bellhop uniforms with gold trim. There’s a red carpet leading to the brass front door, and beautifully pruned bushes along the side of the carpet.

“I guess this is it,” I say to the driver.

“You got an interview?” he says.

“Yes, to be a nanny.”

He smiles, and I rummage through my purse for the money to pay him.

“I’ll tell you what, sweetie. This one’s on the house. Good luck with the interview.”

“Really? I can’t let you do that.”

“No, I insist. You remind me of my daughter.”

“Thank you,” I say, and I’m so grateful I almost want to lean forward and hug him.

I could use a hug. I’ve always been one to get nervous before a job interview, and this one, for some rich guy’s nanny, is particularly intimidating.

I know hardly anything about my potential employer. I barely had my name up on the Nanny Express website for an hour when I got the call last night. All they told me about the job was that it was for a single dad in The Avalon. They referred to the Avalon as if it was a place I should have known about. Apparently it contained the most exclusive and expensive apartments in the world, the modern day equivalent of the Palace at Versailles. A place where the apartments were built like fantastic mansions, complete with their own swimming polls, marble fireplaces, and private servants quarters. The father, they told me, was thirty-nine and unmarried. The kid, an eight year old boy.

I said I’d show up for the interview and here I was.

I step out of the cab, thanking the driver again, and approach one of the doormen.

“I’m here to see Wes Eastwood on the fifty-eighth floor,” I say.

“Certainly, miss,” he says, holding the door open for me. I step inside and there’s a man sitting at a desk. It reminds me of a hotel.

“I’m here for Mr. Wes Eastwood,” I say again.

He nods and I can tell he’s been informed of my appointment.

“You’re going to take the gold elevator at the end there, all the way up to number 58. You can’t miss it.

“Gold elevator?” I say.

He nods kindly.

“Don’t worry. If you get the job you’ll get used to things around here in no time.”

I nod and step across the marble floor to the beautifully ornate elevator. Once inside, I press the button and then take deep breaths to try and keep my nerves in check.

The elevator comes to a halt with a ding and the door opens. I stand there, frozen, looking out the open door.

This is it. Be brave, Cherri.

I step forward into a beautiful corridor with thick green carpeting and wood paneling. There’s a door at the end with ‘Eastwood’ written above it in gold lettering. I walk up to the door and knock.

There’s silence and I begin to wonder if I’m at the wrong place. I can’t be. The name is on the door. Maybe it’s the wrong day? What day was I supposed to come?

And then I hear a sound at the door and it swings open.

I’m greeted by a charming eight year old boy and almost instantly I know this interview isn’t going to be as scary as I feared.

“Are you my new nanny?” he says.

I laugh and bend down to his level.

“That depends,” I say. “Is your name Brady Eastwood?”

He nods and grabs my hand, leading me into a truly spectacular apartment. The entire space is wide open, with fabulous décor at every turn. The lights are crystal chandeliers. The furniture is straight out of a designer magazine. It reminds me of photos I’ve seen of royal palaces. I can’t believe I’m somewhere so fancy.

“Dad,” Brady calls. “She’s here. She’s here.”

I let out a little laugh at Brady’s enthusiasm and then see that he’s leading me to some seats and a little table where the most beautiful refreshments are waiting. There’s a china coffee pot with matching cups and saucers. I see steam swirling up from the pot and wonder who prepared the coffee if there’s no one home but Brady and his dad. There are also fancy french cookies, all sorts of flavors, and a cake that looks like real flowers have been stuck on to it but as I get closer I see they’re made of frosting.

“Oh wow, this looks delicious,” I say.

“I ordered it,” Brady says proudly as he sits down next to me on the sofa.

“Your apartment is absolutely beautiful,” I say to Brady, still taking in all the beauty.

“Well, we had a decorator pick everything out. Me and my dad didn’t really know where to start when we moved in.”

“Your decorator did a good job.”

“Apparently we need a woman’s touch,” Brady says.

“Oh, is that so?”

“That’s what they tell us,” he says. “That’s what my dad says, at least.”

“And do you agree?”

Brady thinks about it for a second and then nods his head. “My friends’ moms are pretty nice.”

I nod my head. “You’re a smart boy, Brady. Women are good at a lot of things and I’m sure you’ll like having one in your life.”

He takes my hand in his and I pull him closer.

“You want a cookie?” he says.

“I think I should wait for your dad, don’t you?”

“He’s late for everything.”

We both jump when we hear a man’s deep voice from behind us.

“Oh really? Late for everything? And you’d have nothing to do with that I suppose?”

Brady laughs.

“This is my dad,” he says.

I turn to get my first view of the man I’m about to ask to hire me. When I see him, he literally takes my breath away.

“Oh god,” I whisper, luckily too quiet for anyone to hear me.

Wes Eastwood is not what you expect when someone says you’re about to meet a single dad who works on Wall Street. In my mind I’d pictured the geeky kind. Maybe a pair of slacks and a baggy shirt. Some glasses. A receding hair line.

Wes is nothing like that. He looks like a freaking Calvin Klein model. His arms are muscular and built, his chest is broad and through his perfectly tailored dress shirt, I can see he’s muscular and has perfect abs. His face is handsome, with a chiseled jawline and piercing eyes.

My heart pounds in my chest as I look at him and I feel my body fill up with lust and desire.

Something must be going on with my body because I keep finding myself craving the touch of every hot guy I see.

Wes is different though. He’s not just another hot guy, he’s fucking stunning. I want him to take me in his arms and hold me forever. I don’t just want to be his nanny, I want to be his everything. I want him to take me into his bedroom and strip me naked.

My mind rushes through a million naughty thoughts as I stand speechless in front of him. I want him to be my first. I want to lose my virginity to this man. Not the man from the bar. I want Wes’s cock to be the first cock ever to pass the virgin lips of my pussy. I want his cum to be the first to ever flow into my body. I want to taste him. I want to bring pleasure to him. I want him to cry out my name in the heat of orgasm.

“Cherri?”

“Yes. Yes, sir,” I stammer, recovering from my reverie.

“Please, call me Wes.”

“Wes,” I say, shyly.

He sits down in the chair facing me and starts pouring two cups of coffee.

“Sorry,” he says when he realizes he hasn’t asked me if I’d like some. “Would you like a cup?”

“Definitely?”

“Cream or sugar?”

“Just black,” I say.

He nods. “That’s how I take it too.”

“Well, that’s a good start,” I say, “something in common.”

“Yes,” he says, laughing.

He looks into my eyes, then looks at Brady who’s obviously very comfortable with me already.

“I can see you two are getting along.”

“We are,” Brady says.

“You get on well with children?” Wes asks me.

“Sure I do. I was a single child, but I’ve never had trouble relating to kids.”

“And how old are you?”

“I’m nineteen.”

“And you work in the city or study?”

“Work. Well, I was working, as a waitress, until I got fired.”

“And what did you get fired for?”

“For losing my temper with my boss,” I say.

“Nice to see you’re honest.”

“And not willing to put up with unreasonable crap,” I add. “He was inappropriate and I called him out on it.”

Wes smiles. “Good, I like that. I hope I don’t give you any reason to be calling me out.”

“Oh, no. I’m sure you wouldn’t.”

“Brady might,” Wes says.

I laugh. There’s something so seductive about this man. He’s so … confident. So sure of himself. I can tell just by being in the same room as him why he’s been so successful. It’s like he knows exactly what he wants to say, and exactly what I’m going to say, before I even say it.

He’s mesmerizing!

When he looks at me, I feel as if he’s looking right into my soul.

“If Brady and I have any troubles, I’m quite sure we’d be able to work them out I say.”

Wes hands me my coffee and leans back in his seat, drinking me in with his eyes. The way he looks at me is so seductive. I feel my pussy quivering with desire under his gaze. He has a power over me that I’ve never felt before. I’ve never been with a man like this. If he told me to go into his bedroom and wait for him, I’d obey him. No kidding. He just has that instant power over me.

“I think you’d make a great fit for us, Cherri.”

“I do too,” I blurt out.

“I mean, it would take us a little time to get used to a woman’s presence. Neither I nor Brady have lived with a woman in a very long time and I’m sure we’ve grown a little rough around the edges.”

“I’m sure I could smoothen you right out,” I say, then blush when I realize how forward that must have sounded.

“I have no doubt,” Wes says. “I trust you don’t have a problem with my human resources manager doing a background check on you? I’ve been ordered by a court to give Brady more of a female influence in his life, and one of their requirements is that I properly vet any nanny I hire.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I’ve never been in any trouble or anything.”

“That’s good to hear,” Wes says. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I say.

Wes gets to his feet and walks over to me. He gives me his hand and I reach up and shake it.

His touch is like electricity.

“Does this mean she’s my new nanny?” Brady squeals in joy.

Wes and I burst out laughing.

“Yes, buddy. Do you like her?”

“I love her,” Brady cries.