Nanny with Benefits

by Amy Brent

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d already noticed he was losing patients. They were coming to me and telling me they didn’t feel Michael was helping them. They didn’t want to keep wasting their money if they felt they could go elsewhere, and part of the new influx of clients was me taking on some of his cases I knew I could help. I staggered their appointments so Michael wouldn’t see them coming out of my office, and I transferred the others to different doctors on different levels of the building. For the most part, I had my psychiatry headquarters in L.A. sectioned off by levels. Each level held psychiatrist offices that dealt with specific ailments, but they all took on average, undiagnosed clients as well. It was a good system, one that worked for all of us and made me filthy fucking rich.

  I didn’t know how to tell Michael that maybe he was doing something wrong with his practice.

  With the way I had the pay structure set up, I wouldn’t take the hit if he didn’t do well. Because the rooms were rented in the building, he owed me for the space and the energy he used every month. My company absorbed the water and sewage bill, but the tenants paid for the space, their part of the internet, and their part of the energy. The rest of the expenses were individually billed, and the tenants worked as self-employed psychiatrists.

  Once the buildings were paid off, which never seemed to take long, I began to rake in the big bucks from my company.

  “How about this?” I said. “Take the weekend and compare your schedules. Look at the clients who have stopped coming to you and simply shoot them an email. Create a little survey for them to fill out, asking them for some feedback. If you’re doing well, no one ever tells you. But if you’re doing terrible, they’re all too keen on letting you know.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Michael said as he threw back his beer. “I’m gonna go get a jump on that.”

  “Let me know how it goes, all right?” I asked.

  “Will do. Drinks are on me.” He tossed a couple of twenties at the bartender and thanked him for his time. I watched Michael leave, sighing as he walked out the door, but a woman crossing my vision caught my eye.

  “Melissa?”

  I whirled around and caught her walking away from me. Long dark hair trailed down her back, and tan skin wrapped around a beautiful curvy body. My heart pounded in my chest, and my blood rushed in my ears. Holy hell, it was Melissa.

  She was back.

  I downed the rest of my drink and made my way through the crowd. My hands began to sweat as memories flooded my mind. Memories of her virginal body beneath mine with her dark eyes screwed shut. Her tan skin ricocheting up my arms as she wrapped her hands around my neck. I can still remember how tight she was, giving herself over to me that night as she clung tightly to my body.

  “Melissa!”

  My hand dropped down onto the woman’s shoulder, and she turned around. Her bright hazel eyes met mine, and a stark disappointment dropped all the way to my toes. She looked nothing like Melissa. Her nose was too large, and her cheeks were too broad. Her neck wasn’t long enough, and her shoulders were too stout. She was smiling at me, her eyes raking up and down my form as I slid my hand down her arm, and I suddenly felt the need to bury myself inside of her.

  To feel her warmth.

  To forget the warmth I kept chasing.

  “I could be Melissa if you’re into that kind of thing,” she said as the woman bit her lower lip.

  I wouldn’t mind calling out her name again tonight. If only to allow myself to think I could ever have her again after what I did to her.

  “Hello, Melissa,” I said as I grinned wickedly. “Fancy a ride in a convertible tonight?”

  Chapter 3

  Brandon

  My head was swirling. It was only Wednesday, but I felt as if I’d weathered the battlefield. My mind was numb, and my heart was heavy. My patients were suffering, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it sometimes. I could medicate them to keep them complacent. To keep them from feeling manic or sad, but it never really made them happy. It was a wonderful day if patients came in smiling, but this week had not been one of those weeks.

  It had been one of those weeks where I’d torn through a month’s worth of tissues in three days.

  Raking my hands through my hair, I looked over at the clock. It was well past eight, and I thanked the stars for my nanny staying late again with Max. It was hard finding someone who could tolerate my wild child. He was all hair and limbs and very defiant. Even for a four-year-old. He was the best thing that had ever come from my mistake of a marriage to that idiotic Russian woman. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, marrying her so she could get her citizenship.

  My son deserved better than that shit.

  On the days I could get home, he was upset at best. On the days I couldn’t get home, there were times where I walked into a whirlwind of a mess. Even paying for a top-notch nanny meant she spent more time running down my boy and trying to raise him right than she did anything else, but if it wasn’t for her, I couldn’t work the hours I did. I couldn’t have built my practice. I wanted to build all of this up and then hire someone to take my workload. Then I could sit back and raise my son, be there for his formative years and watch the money come rolling in while I watched him grow.

  Instead, I was pulling insane hours at the office and taking the edge off with alcohol and fake ass women.

  If my patients only knew the wreck my own life had become.

  I shut down my computer and grabbed my things. I knew exactly where I was headed and exactly what I was going to get myself into. My cock throbbed at the idea of some pretty little fake things squealing while my cock pounded her into the bathroom wall. I’d spray my seed on the floor, give her tits a few licks, and then pack myself up and go home. That was all the happiness I was afforded with the decisions I’d made.

  All the happiness I could’ve experienced had derailed the moment I married her.

  She who shall remain nameless.

  I drove to the bar and fixed myself up before I went in. I thought about asking Michael to come with me, but I honestly wasn’t sure I wanted to. He hadn’t talked to me about how the survey shit supposedly went, and I wasn’t in the mood to listen. I’d heard enough people bitch and moan about their lives, and I didn’t want to do it anymore.

  Not tonight, anyway.

  I walked into the joint and smiled when the lights were lowered. I’d walked in just in time, and as I scanned the room, I saw a beautiful little thing sitting all alone at the bar. Her small waist tapered up into fantastically large tits, and her blond hair was piled high on her head. I watched her wrap her crimson red lips along the edge of her martini glass, drinking something bright blue as she sighed heavily with her shoulders.

  That was my prey for the evening. My fun little tryst before I went home and snuggled next to my son and pretended I was the father I needed to be.

  I walked over to her and sat down, signaling to the bartender I was ready to order. I told him to grab me a beer before he got the lady another drink, and that was enough to get her attention.

  She giggled as she introduced herself, but I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t care about her name, where she came from, or if she had anyone at home.

  All I cared about was how wonderful her pussy would feel around my cock tonight.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you,” I said.

  “I recognize you,” she said, grinning. “You’re that psychiatrist with that awesome book.”

  “So you’ve read it.”

  “I have. It’s what helped me get away from my ex,” she said.

  “What was so wrong with the ex?” I asked.

  “It’s like you said in Chapter Seven. ‘Many people can be right, but it takes more than right and love to make a marriage work.’ ”

  “You really have read the book,” I said as I lifted my beer to my lips.

  “It not only helped me to get out of my loveless marriage, but it also helped us to do it amicably. It’s
incredible, the way you wrote that book. It was like you knew what I needed and the situation I was in.”

  “Well, all it takes is a bit of personal experience and years of studying the human mind to come up with those conclusions. They sound simple enough, but it seems as if you’ve found out firsthand that they aren’t always as plain as they seem,” I said.

  “I carry it around with me everywhere. In my purse at all times. I have passages highlighted and everything.”

  “Well, I’m very flattered.”

  “It’s an honor to meet you. I was wondering… do you think I could bother you for an autograph?” she asked.

  “You could bother me for more, if you’d like,” I said, winking.

  I held out my hand for her book, and she pulled it from her purse. She placed it in my hand, and the bartender handed me a pen. I inscribed a little message in her book before I signed it and then handed it back to her as our fingers touched. I knew she meant for them to touch, watching my hand placement to see where she was needed, but I found the effort cute nonetheless. She chugged back the drink I gave her as I finished up my beer. Then she slid off the barstool before she held out her hand.

  “Care to exit through the back, Dr. Black?”

  I loved a fake woman who knew what she wanted. The dyed hair and the fake tits screamed of inclusive and confidence issues, and they were always willing to overexert themselves. Everything was so exaggerated and superficial with them, which made it easier to leave them high and dry. With us men, it was easy, a few strokes, a little sucking, and then come spurted everywhere. With women, they were all different. Each required a different touch and way of stroking. Some required deeper penetration while others enjoyed it faster. Some only got off by oral while others got off with only anal play.

  I didn’t have time to figure that shit out, and fake women never left me feeling guilty for not returning the favor.

  Her lip-injected mouth crashed down on mine, painting my face with her red lipstick as we stumbled into the bathroom stall. She locked it behind her as I pulled her shirt down, freeing her beautiful tits as I pulled one between my lips. She threw her head back, sighing in an over-exaggerated fashion as I worked my cock out of my pants. I could smell her pussy, already dripping for my cock as sighs fell from her body. I ripped her panties off her before I picked her up, and she squealed when the cool metal of the bathroom stall hit her back.

  My cock found her drenched pussy, and I pushed in heartily. I started at a furious pace, bouncing her tits as I motor boated her cleavage. I licked and sucked, marking her breasts as her greedy pussy gobbled down my dick. Her hands clamped into my hair as she peppered my skin with kisses, but I didn’t give a shit what she was doing.

  All I cared about was fucking her until I came.

  “Yes, Doctor. Fuck me good. Oh shit. Yes. Just like that. Oh, that feels fantastic, Doctor.”

  I fucked her against the wall so hard, I thought we were going to dent it. Her legs were wrapped around me, and her hands were digging into my chest. I planted my palms into the wall, thrusting my dick inside of her time and time again. I felt my balls beginning to fill with need even though her pussy seemed a little ragged. It was tight but not as tight as some of the women I’d had around here, so I closed my eyes and imagined the first thing I could.

  I imagined her.

  Melissa.

  I thought of her jet-black hair and how beautifully the curls framed her face. I thought of how her dark brown eyes were speckled with little bits of yellow. I thought of how the stars twinkled on her skin in the moonlight, shining like a light show just for me.

  I thought about how warm her pussy was. How it throbbed and shook with every thrust I made into her body. I thought about the pain she experienced when I took her virginity, how that tear ricocheted down her face before I kissed it away.

  I thought about how she told me to keep going. How she trusted me. How she couldn't wait for me to get back home from college.

  How the fuck could I have been such an idiot?

  “Faster, Doctor. Faster!”

  I bit down into her neck as my balls pulled up into my body. Her pussy juices were dripping down my balls, smelling of fish and rank meat. I slammed into her, my dick sloshing around inside her body, and right on time, I saw her hand snake between our bodies. She flicked her clit, her hips grinding down into me as my legs began to stutter. Finally, her pussy was fluttering enough to clamp down on me good, and I pulled out as I began spraying my hot come all along the bathroom stall.

  “No, no, no. Come back. Please.”

  I panted into her neck as I released her skin. I kissed down her tits one last time before I set her down onto her feet and began stuffing myself into my pants. She stood there flabbergasted, probably wondering how the fuck I could possibly leave her like this, and before I could get out of the stall, I heard a thunderous crack before a heated sting painted the side of my cheek.

  I watched that fake woman with her fake tits and her wilted pussy shift her skirt around as she walked out of the bathroom, and I was left with nothing but her disgusting smell and my memories.

  My life was pathetic.

  Chapter 4

  Melissa

  “Melissa Conway speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Miss Conway, it’s Doctor Hamilton.”

  “Hello, doctor. Is everything all right? Has something happened to Sarah at the daycare?” I asked.

  “No, no, no. Everything’s all right. But it’s been a couple of days since I’ve seen you. Have you given any thought to the doctor I recommended for you?”

  “A bit, yes,” I said.

  “Look, I know sometimes it can be hard. Psychiatrists aren’t viewed like regular doctors. They’re given this persona in the public eye like the somehow mess with your brain or something.”

  “Isn’t that kind of their specialty?” I asked.

  “They’re there to help you just like I am. My specialty is the body. Their specialty is the brain and how it’s chemically wired. It’s no different than coming to see me. They ask questions, you talk, they diagnose, and you see them regularly the same way you see me,” he said.

  “Look, I know I need to talk with someone.”

  Could I tell him? How I knew Brandon? My history with him? That would be a conflict of interest thing for him, right? He wouldn’t be able to take me on as a client with our past, with those broken promises, and with the part he’d played in how I ended up here in the first place.

  “I didn’t know maybe if you would call them of your own volition, so I’ve got the referral right here. All I have to do is press a button, and you’ll have someone call you within the hour,” he said.

  “What am I going to do with Sarah during this time?” I asked.

  “If I need to write you a note for your boss, I’ll do that. You’re allowed to eat in these offices, so you could do it on your lunch break.”

  “Wouldn’t that be his lunch break, too?” I asked.

  “Miss Conway…”

  “I know, I know. All right. Put in the referral. You said they’d call me?” I asked.

  “Within the hour. Referral sent. I’m telling you, Miss Conway, this is going to do you a great deal of good. More good than I could ever do. When you schedule your appointment, call me back and leave a notice with my nurse. I want to make sure I keep in contact with your doctor about what he’s prescribing you, if anything.”

  “I can do that, doctor. Thank you for calling,” I said.

  “If you don’t hear from them within the hour. Call them. I’m serious. You need this.”

  “I will, I will. Now, I’ve got to get back to my calculations.”

  “I don’t know how you do all that math stuff,” he said.

  “And I don’t know how you do all that blood stuff. Have a good day, doctor.”

  “You, too, Miss Conway.”

  Sure enough, before I went on my lunch break, I got a phone call on my cell from a number I didn’t recogn
ize. I took a deep breath before picking it up, and the cheery voice on the other end already started grating on my nerves.

  “Hello! Is this Miss Melissa Conway?” she asked.

  “It is, yes.”

  “Oh, wonderful. I was calling because of a referral your doctor sent to our office. How are you doing today?” she asked.

  “You’re calling me from a psychiatrist’s office. You tell me,” I said.

  “Well, we’ll get you scheduled for as soon as possible, so we can get you going on a better path. I just need a bit of information. First, are you more comfortable with someone of the same gender, or is the doctor you were specifically referred to going to be all right?”