I wanted Charlotte. Fuck, how I wanted her. While I drowned in those baby blue eyes, the smell of her skin wrapped itself around me, making me crave her taste. It was inappropriate and I felt like a pervert, but damnit I couldn’t help myself.

I wanted my son’s nanny.

Her beauty was not obvious like Jillian’s, but was the kind that you grew into. The longer you looked the more you found to admire, and if you allowed it, it led you into deep addiction. That was how exquisite she was.

It began from her voice; the best way I could describe it was mesmerizing. When she spoke it seized you in the gut. You never wanted her to stop. Then there was her body. It was all woman, from her full breasts to those curvy legs it all screamed feast. It was enough to stop any man cold. I watched her hips, in dark jeans, sway gently as though to a tune only she could hear as she left my quarters.

I had a raging hard on. Until she had come I had not even thought of having a woman. Now all I wanted to do was bury my face between her legs, and make her threaten to tear the hair off my scalp as I ravaged her cunt.

Jesus Christ. I couldn’t even sleep at night anymore because I kept thinking of her. I woke up hard and jerked off thinking of her breasts in my hands. Kneading, sucking, nipping. I imagined her begging for my hard cock. I rammed so deep inside her she screamed. In my fantasy, I felt the heat of her tight pussy milking my dick while I fucked her and heard the helpless cries and whimpers ringing around me.

Oh, how I fucked her.

I came in a rush of hot semen. There was so much of it. I closed my eyes, and even then, I thought of her body trembling gently under me … the heat of her sweet breath on my face.

With her I knew I would be able to feel again. Being with her would go beyond just sexual ecstasy, and bring to me the warmth that I craved no matter how brief. It had been so long since I felt anything. For a long time I thought I would never smile again and yet with effortless ease she made me laugh. I didn’t want my darkness to rub off on her, but who could blame me if I wanted a taste of the light that I knew came with Charlotte?

I also knew she was not one to be tasted, then let go. One taste and I would be hooked, but keeping her was not in the cards. My situation was already complicated enough. After what happened this morning, it was obvious Jillian hated her and was probably planning how to get rid of her. Any sign of interest from me would be the final nail in the coffin. Charlotte was good for Zackary and there was no way I was going to put myself before my son’s needs. I had been selfish my whole life. This time I was going to put Zackary first.

No matter how difficult it was, I planned to keep my distance. For her sake, and for Zackary’s too. I think I did quite well the whole day. I kept up a tough schedule and only returned after dinner. I planned on going to see Zackary later. For too long that was my only pleasure. Stealing into his room in the dead of night and simply watching him sleep. Since Charlotte arrived I had not seen him and I longed to.

As I walked into my rooms I found myself glancing at the intercom on the wall. So quickly it had become a habit I especially looked forward to. The conversations were harmless, or so I wanted to believe. I would get to know about Zackary’s progress, and briefly hear her voice. I rang her extension.

"Hello, Brett,” she whispered.

I felt myself melt. “Hello, Charlotte.” I paused. Make this about Zackary. “How was Zackary’s day?”

“Good. We had a good day. He got to try out his new playground. He fell once and scraped his knee, but he was very brave about it. He didn’t cry or complain.”

I felt my heart swell with pride. I always wanted him to be brave. “That’s good.”

“I … uh … I was … uh ... wondering if … well, if Zackary could perhaps have dinner with you tomorrow? It’s just that he ate alone today and he looked really pitiful."

I was too stunned to respond.

She went on. "I believe your wife will not be home tomorrow night so I thought that perhaps it would be a good opport—”

Anger coiled in the pit of my stomach. "Do you think that I purposefully choose not to spend any time with my son?”

I thought that she would cower then, especially at the bite of my tone, but she pressed undaunted. "You said that he is scared of you. I know he’s not, but even if he was, maybe if you made a little bit more effort to—”

I disconnected the call and stood there staring at the intercom. How dare she insinuate I wasn't trying hard enough? I tried and tried, but after the accident, anytime I came within sight of my son he would break out in silent tears. And if I insisted on approaching, he would explode into hysterics of fright and horror.

His reaction tore at my heart, but he was only a child and he didn’t understand that just because I looked like a monster I was not one. I left him alone after Jillian got worried that he would become unnecessarily fearful or even develop psychological problems. "As he gets older," she assured me, "he will come to understand. Just be patient."

I ached to spend time with him, but I knew she was right. He needed time. The days grew into weeks, and the months into years, and until Charlotte came I honestly thought he had all but forgotten me.

It was not Charlotte’s fault. She was only trying to help. I shouldn’t have taken my pain out on her. I wanted to call her back to apologize for being so harsh, but I decided against it. Maybe it was better this way. She had too much power over me already. Boundaries between us was a good thing.