Sharon, a girl who had bullied me from the beginning of elementary school until we graduated high school, had moved the chair, causing me to fall. I came crashing down to the hard floor, landing on my elbow. Pain shot up my arm. Sharon started laughing loudly, and so did everyone else. I sat on the floor crying for a long time. I cried because I was in pain and because my feelings were hurt.
Being out in the woods with the Bradfords and their friends made those feelings come rushing back to me. It was great witnessing them come together and enjoy the company of their friends, but it made me feel like I was intruding on them as an unwelcome stranger. They did their best to make me feel welcome, of course, but it was hard since I did not know them, and I was also the only one who was there without a mate.
When I first agreed to be Harlow and Whitney Bradford’s nanny and visited their home, I was impressed by how big it was. Whitney made me feel welcome right away. Talking to her felt less like an interview and more like I was catching up with an old friend. We laughed and talked for what seemed like hours. I had to remind myself to put my best foot forward and try to maintain some semblance of professionalism so that I could get this job.
I had just stopped working for another family, one that I had been with for years until the kids had gotten old enough for school and no longer needed me. When I saw the position was available with the Bradfords, I held out hopes that I would get it. It was very close to home and paid more than my previous job.
Things got a little uncomfortable when Whitney asked about my marital status.
“The only reason that I’m asking is because I just want to know what kind of commitments you have to your own family that might get in the way of the work that needs to be done here,” she had explained.
“No need to worry about that,” I assured her. “I am single and will probably be single for a very long time.”
I tried to laugh, making light of the fact that my dating prospects were pretty much nonexistent. But not only did Whitney not laugh along with me, she actually grimaced.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.
Now I wished that I hadn’t said that. My laughter faded away into uncomfortable silence.
She quickly changed the subject and started telling me a story something funny one of the kids had done. I laughed in all the right places and the interview seemed to go over without a hitch. It was a good, steady job. The fact that they seemed like a wonderful family to work for was just icing on the cake.
When Whitney first mentioned their plans to go visit some old friends who had a cabin in the woods and said that she wanted me to join them, I felt nervous but didn’t want to tell her that I was quite uncomfortable with the idea. I hadn’t been working for them for very long and was still trying to find my rhythm with the family routine and such.
She wanted to whisk me away to some far-off cabin in the woods where we would be staying with complete strangers. I didn’t know how much this trip would disrupt the kids’ new schedule or how easy it would be to get them back on track.
The kids were not necessarily difficult children; they just had a more strenuous schedule than any children I had ever known. They were in all types of activities and their schedule was very strict. When I started working for them, they wanted me to add to their already impossible schedule with more activities.
I felt like it was a lot to expect the kids to adjust to— having a new nanny on top of adding more responsibilities to their schedule, but it wasn’t my place to say anything. I had been hired to do a job and I was going to do my best to make it all work.
The first week was somewhat of a disaster. We showed up late to every activity. The youngest even had a minor meltdown and refused to cooperate with anything or anyone. I had to sit with her in her room for several hours just to get her to put her shoes on. And that delay had a domino effect on the rest of the plans that we had.
It was normal, in my experience, for children to resist change. But Harlow Bradford, being the military man that he was, seemed irritated at the fact that the kids and I didn’t jump right into the routine immediately.
I could tell that he was annoyed by the way that he walked around the house complaining about everything little thing and the way that Whitney’s face seemed fixed in a permanent frown. She was constantly wringing her hands and asking me if everything was okay. I would assure here that everything was fine. But I could tell that she wasn’t.
At the end of the week, Whitney asked me to sit down and talk. It was a very different conversation than the friendly one that we had had when I was hired by her. In fact, I was convinced that this would be my last day because of the serious tone in which she spoke. It was the first time that I had heard her speak that way.
I had to hide my own irritation when she asked me how I felt things were going and if I thought that things would get better. I knew that it generally took about a month to get things on track with a routine, so I felt that it was unrealistic and unfair to both the children and myself for them to expect that within a week’s time, everything would be perfect.
I gently explained to her that this kind of adjustment process was normal and that I thought things were going as smoothly as could be expected. She looked relieved but also dubious. The Bradfords had never had a nanny before and were clearly questioning the arrangement, which made me nervous about my future employment status.
But, I persisted, and almost as if some sort of miracle had been worked, the situation began to improve the following week. Things became more relaxed, and even began to get back to the natural way of interaction that Whitney and I had had when he had first met. The arrangement wasn’t exactly perfect, but the poop incident— one in which their daughter rummaged through her full diaper and smeared its contents all over the wall— that I thought would enrage Harlow was quickly laughed away.
Thankfully, there were no other incidents of that magnitude. Just a forgotten shoe here or there and a couple times of being a few minutes late to piano practice. But overall, I was delighted at how things were working out and I think that the Bradfords were, too.
Considering how far we had come, I had really hoped that everything would turn out great with this trip. But, of course, there was no way to be sure.
I really enjoyed being with their family. They had a close bond that I wished that I had with my own family. I was the only child to my parents. They were very loving, but they were not especially affectionate. Plus, they had me when they were much older, so there was a lot that they simply could not relate to. They did the best that they could, though.
Being around the Bradfords made me grateful that I could experience the intimate bond that they shared. They were close to each other and quickly grew close to me. Every day that I left them, the kids would cry and beg me not to go. While I didn’t like seeing them so upset, it felt really good to know that they liked me as much as I liked them.
When Whitney asked me to go on the trip with them, I told her that I would need some time to think about it and then I would give her my answer. But then later that night, I walked into my small one bedroom apartment and was greeted by a strong god-awful smell. My father was laying on my couch, his face and shirt covered in puke and he was drenched in urine. That incident is what sent me on this fated journey into the woods with the Bradford family and their friend Darren.
Chapter 4
Michelle
My dad had been drinking all day long, apparently in an even larger quantity than normal. He had peed so much that there was a fairly large puddle pooling around his feet. He was in a deep sleep, snoring so loudly that the walls of my apartment seemed to be vibrating.
I felt a strange combination of pity mixed with anger. I knew that my father was still grieving the loss of my mother. They had been together since they were in college. My mother had always been the one to look after him, me, and anyone else who needed her help. So, when she died from cancer, despite the many rounds of chemotherapy that she held out high h
opes of working, we were all devastated.
But no one took it harder than my dad. He stayed holed up in their house for months, refusing to talk to anyone, even me. It wasn’t until the bank took possession of the house for non-payment, after my mother passed away, that we connected. And it wasn’t even him who reached out. It was one of our neighbors, Mrs. Green, who called me to tell me that she saw the police carting my father away as he tried to fight them while the sheriff’s department was putting all of my family’s belongings out on the curb.
I went to the police station to pick him up. I’ll never forget how he looked, like a kid waiting for their mom to retrieve them from detention. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes looked so sad. He barely looked at me at all when I told him that I was there to get him. He just slowly and silently stood up and walked over to my car. I told him that he would have to stay with me at my house for a little while until we figured things out. Again, he didn’t protest.
As I was about to start up the car and pull off, a police officer came running to my vehicle. He got my attention and asked me to step outside of the car so that he could talk to me.
“Is there something wrong, officer?” I asked politely.
“Actually, yes. I was one of the arresting officers at your dad’s house. You may not remember me, but we graduated high school together.”
I looked at him more closely, trying to see if I could recognize him underneath all the facial hair. I couldn’t place him.
“You probably know me better as Dickie.”
“Oh, my God! Yes!” He was the little brother of my childhood friend, Stephanie. He used to torture us with his pet frog, letting it out whenever we would be in Stephanie’s room trying to play. Whenever we would see the frog, we would hightail it out of the bedroom, screaming, only to find him snickering by the door.
“How have you been?” I asked, leaning over to hug him.
“I’m good. Thanks for asking. I was glad that I was on the scene when we got the call. Michelle. If I hadn’t been there, they would have charged your father with assault and battery. He was wildly flailing his limbs at the female officer who was present and who was attempting to evict him. I had to beg her not to press charges. I knew he was just reacting badly in a very emotional situation, and not trying to actually harm her.”
I was shocked to hear this about my father because he had never so much as raised his voice, let alone responded with violence. I guessed he was determined not to go down without a fight, as foolish as that thought was.
“Wow. I appreciate you telling me that,” I said.
“No problem. I just wanted to let you know in case there was something else going on and he needed help. Is he okay? I heard about what happened to your mother.”
“I sure hope so,” I said.
But, I wasn’t too sure of what was going on with him.
I just wanted to help in any way that I could. Dad told me that he wanted to go back to his house, so I contacted the bank to see if we could work something out financially. After weeks of trying to recover the house from the bank, to no avail, we decided that the only option was for my dad to come and live with me. It felt like I didn’t have much of a choice. He was my dad, after all, and I didn’t want to see anything bad happen to him. But shortly after moving in with me, he started drinking heavily.
When I first found him slumped over the toilet, sleeping in his own puke, I tried to talk to him, hoping that he would open up to me about how he was feeling. He wouldn’t. Instead, he attacked me and called me names. I ran out of the bathroom crying, cursing myself for even caring. I didn’t want things to get any worse, so I left him alone.
I cried myself to sleep that night as the realization set in that my father, the happy man who had raised me, was drowning in a sea of depression and there was nothing that I could do to help him.
So finding him that day covered in his own bodily fluids, was not anything that I hadn’t seen before. It was actually becoming the norm, sadly.
And while I was sad to see my dad this way, part of me was angry. I was angry that my mother was gone and had left me with this shell of a man. I was angry that I didn’t have the nerve to tell him to snap out of it. I was just angry at the whole situation and I wasn’t sure that things would ever get better. I came to the sad realization that I may be coming home to my father in a pool of vomit and urine until the day that he died.
While cleaning him up and having him fight me the entire time, I made my decision about the trip with the Bradfords. This was my chance to escape my reality for a little while, so I told Whitney that I would be happy to join them on their trip. It would be a welcome distraction I thought, kind of like a vacation. God knows I needed one.
Chapter 5
Michelle
The drive up to the cabin had been gorgeous. The scenery was breathtaking with snow covering the bare branches of what I thought might be aspen trees. It must have warmed up since the snowfall because luckily the roads were clear.
Rolling down my window, I could smell a combination of evergreen and fresh forest air. Upon arrival, I could tell I was going to like it here. Darren’s cabin was so cozy and overall lovely, like something right out of a fairy tale. I couldn’t think of a better way to put the tragic circumstances of my dad’s downfall behind me.
After taking a tour of the cabin and the “backyard”—which was a silly phrase since the entire forest could constitute Darren and Hope’s backyard—Riley suggested we go on a walk to explore even more of the woods and get some exercise. I liked the idea, and it was decided that the older kids would come along with us while the younger ones would stay back at the house with some adults to watch them.
Now that we were out and about on the hike, I was so glad to be getting such a big breath of fresh air and to be able to take in the beautiful mountain scenery and all the sights and sounds that nature had to offer. The woods were stark, not bleak, but just empty and devoid of people. I felt serene up here, like I could really relax and, God forbid, finally feel happy.
I hadn’t expected that we would run into anyone while hiking in the forest, let alone a handsome stranger. And the last thing on my mind was that it would be someone who caught my attention. It had been so long since anyone had done that, and I wasn’t expecting it to happen with everything on my mind due to my own family troubles.
But from the way that he was looking at me, I could tell that I had caught his attention too. The stranger’s eyes were so intense, and he kept staring at me. Even though it made me feel slightly self-conscious, I couldn’t help but stare back in wonder.
He was very handsome with dark, brooding features. His muscles seemed to almost burst through his clothes. He was tall with a strong build. He looked like he could uproot and carry a tree with his bare hands— like a Paul Bunyan type or the Brawny paper towel guy. He carried a rifle, but the way that his giant hands held it made it seem like a toy.
“Why don’t we all go back to our house?” suggested Darren.
I could see Elijah flinch and he seemed a bit hesitant and just a little— I don’t know— “out there.” Something else was on his mind— I mean, besides me, or, maybe it was just me. How intriguing, I thought.
“Did you have another idea in mind?” I asked him.
Elijah seemed pleasantly surprised at my question.
He hesitated for a moment. “Yes, actually. I know that it’s a bit of a hike back to your cabin and you guys are probably very cold. Why don’t you come to my house for coffee and hot cocoa to warm up for a bit?”
Now I was really curious. There was the collective chatter of agreement from the group.
“Okay. Lead the way,” Darren confidently replied.
Elijah winked and smiled in my direction before turning and walking the opposite way. It was such a slight gesture that I would have missed it if I hadn’t been paying attention. But, I was paying attention, especially to him. The gesture was so different from the lifeless, serious face that he ha
d otherwise maintained.
My mind drifted as we walked. I kept wondering what he looked like underneath the clothes and heavy coat that he wore. Just catching a glimpse of his muscles let me know that he could easily lift me.
I tried to look at his shoes to see how big they were. I believed that the bigger the foot, the bigger the equipment. I smiled at the thought of being able to see what he was packing to find out if the theory was true.
Because he definitely had very big feet to match his large, muscular frame. I could feel my whole-body tingling, especially my pussy, which was also starting to feel very wet.
I knew that I was going to go wherever the group went since I was there to work, but secretly, I was excited about visiting with this mysterious new arrival and getting to know more about him. Hopefully a lot more about him.
Part of me felt like I needed to focus on my job and making sure that I looked after the children in the best way that I could. But another part of me couldn’t help but feel excited about the crush that was developing on this interesting rugged outdoorsman.
After a few minutes of walking, Elijah stopped and turned look at the group. His eyes honed in on me yet again, his smile reaching all the way up to his eyes.
“This is my home. I hope that you find it comfortable and inviting. You will have to excuse my mess. It’s just been me up here for many years.”
“It’s okay,” I said, warmly. “We are just happy that you are extending your hospitality.”
He nodded and turned to continue leading us to his house. This could turn out to be a wonderful adventure, I thought.
Chapter 6
Elijah
“Why are you looking so shocked, Harlow? Like you’ve been electrocuted or something?” asked Michelle, trying her best to contain her laughter. That made the group roar with laughter. Even Harlow himself chuckled a little bit.
Cave Man's Captive Page 2
