Hunger, Chapter 1

by Jackie

The engines of the Gulf Stream 4 whistled as it powered down on its final approach to Henderson Executive Airport. Their long time pilot set the aircraft down so gently that if it weren't for the change in momentum from the reverse thrusters Ester would have thought they were still airborne. She glanced across the elegant walnut and leather cabin to look at her thirteen year old step-daughter.

Rebecca had only recently achieved the official status of teenager. She was wearing a simple print sundress and no make-up whatsoever. Her father's trophy wife looked on her daughter's striking beauty and thought she could probably pass for eighteen with just a little mascara and eye shadow.

'How deceiving might that outward appearance of maturity be?' Ester wondered.

'Was the incident at the exclusive boarding school a cry for attention or just adolescent curiosity?'

The elegantly dressed thirty-five year old knew one thing; she might be biologically old enough to be the girl's mother but nothing in her background had prepared her for parenthood.

Even her filthy rich recently deceased husband had been overwhelmed by the task, which is why he'd enrolled her in the convent school. It was remarkable that with all the private schools in the world that none of them offered exactly what Charles Winston wanted for his daughter.

Ester watched the waves of heat rise off the tarmac of the desert airport. The trip to Vegas was planned weeks before the disaster at the school. Even though she fully endorsed the Headmistresses decision that some time away from school was the best solution she worried how her delicate relationship with her step-daughter would hold up in the circumstance. Lord knew she didn't need any more pressure.

She'd met all the members of the Casino's Board of Directors at social functions occupying her raison de être attached to Charles' arm; and been mentally undressed by everyone of them she was sure. She was the ultimate trophy wife with long natural multi-toned red hair the color of a wild fire and a body to die for. She might have been considered a little top heavy by some but it was only because of the contrast with the rest of her petit frame. As time marched on she guarded what had been her number one asset carefully.

Ester expected the power brokers at the upcoming board meeting would underestimate the contents of her head and her hunger to establish herself as the indisputable head of the Winston Empire—in fact she was counting on it. The hotel casino was one of the more lucrative of Charles'—well actually now hers and Rebecca's investments—and she had no intention of abdicating her authority to control its operation. The stance would no doubt come as a shock to the macho old boys—fuck 'em—well not literally.

Her husband had managed to acquire forty-six percent of the casino's stock. Charles had been trying for years to get the approximately five percent that would give him complete control without success—hence the issues with the Board Meeting. He'd always needed, and now she needed at least one other member to vote with her to make the moves she wanted.

Each of the other four Board members had their agendas which were not always in keeping with the future and growth of the business. For at least three of them, profit taking was an overriding priority.

The smaller share holders dealt through a lawyer. Pooling their interests gave them that much more power—so they thought. Ester never trusted the lawyer, Ted Brisbane, and suspected that he sold his vote to other board members in addition to collecting the fees his clients paid to have him act in their best interests.

What made the conflict of interest doubly distasteful for the red-haired Chairwoman was the fact that 'Shylock' based his practice on serving the moral right. The hypocritical religious organizations he represented had no trouble accepting the impressive ROI that her 'den of iniquity' provided; they just didn't want to be associated with it in a traceable way.

As things worked out, Ted's proxy votes often turned out to be the swing votes. Not for the first time she thought,

'If I had someway to influence him ... that would practically solve all my problems ... I must see what I can do about that, ' she mused watching tarmac pass her unfocused eyes ever more slowly.

The jet coasted to a gentle stop and Mike Montgomery opened the door to the searing desert heat.

"When will you be needing me next Missus Winston?" the handsome uniformed captain asked with a smile.

"I'm not sure Mike. The earliest should be Friday night. I'll text you when my plans firm up," Ester informed him as she felt the blast furnace up-draft erase the air-conditioned comfort of the elegant cabin.

The gorgeous widow was glad it was only feet to the stretched limo as she adroitly descended the Gulf Streams steps in her five inch heels.

She turned back toward the plane when she arrived at the door attended by the uniformed chauffeur. Rebecca was, as she'd hoped, only steps behind.

"Good morning Missus Winston. I hope you had a pleasant flight."

The pitch of her driver's voice immediately got her attention. Concealed by the dark suit was a very attractive woman. A considerable amount of blonde hair was stuffed into the little peaked cap.

"Yes it was fine," Ester responded embarrassed by the warm rush in her low belly.

Sliding across the caramel colored leather into the merciful coolness of the car's interior Ester was pleased to see the grace and modesty her daughter displayed in entering. The skirt of the sundress was short enough to present a challenge under these conditions but Rebecca pulled it off like a pro. Nevertheless the teens untanned legs were pretty much completely on display as she sat back in the comfy plush seat. There was that tingly feeling in her crotch again.

'Good God Ester what's wrong with you! She's your daughter!'

How long had it been since these kinds of feelings had overwhelmed her. It had to be five years—no—more.

It was something about the chauffeur; 'Did I recognize her?'

Almost six years ago that she'd stopped seeing Harold Preston. At that time she'd really thought that her five year relationship with the Industrialist had been the biggest mistake of her life.

Fresh out of college with her degree in Business, she'd learned from a girlfriend that gold digging was definitely the way to go. Sarah, her college girlfriend, landed herself a successful banker in no time. Beverly Hills home, beach house in Malibu, chateau in the south of France, her friend had it all before she was twenty-five and Sarah didn't have half the natural assets Ester had. Hanging out with her college friend made her hungry for the trappings of wealth.

Her first effort to marry money was an unmitigated disaster. She'd hooked up with a young banker friend of Sarah's husband and found out that the player could also be played. Her target had been too young, too savvy. It was time to move on once she established that matrimony was not in her sugar daddy's plans.

Sarah was a great source of contacts and she met the nerdy Mister Preston at one of the endless series of parties the financially well heeled hosted and attended. Harold was much older and less socially adept not to mention impotent.

The manufacturing magnate was interested in only one thing—watching her make out with other women. It wasn't as if she hadn't been curious about what it would be like to have sex with another woman but she'd never really pursued the idea.

She remembered the first time she was invited to dinner at Harold's mansion being more than a little disturbed by the fact that there was another young attractive woman there. Her rather narrow—at the time—sexual scope couldn't extrapolate the situation.

Heather the chestnut haired beauty who had seemingly stolen her thunder had done this before. Ester was in a trance by the time the sorbet was served. The seductress had her in bed naked before dessert.

Preston sat in a chair several feet from the bed the whole time. Not only did he not remove any clothing but according to her recollection his hands didn't even stray to his crotch.

How many times did that happen, dozens at least over the next five years?

'Why did I stay?' Ester remorsed as the concrete and glass of the overdeveloped desert city streamed past the darkened window of her limo.

She knew the answer but could barely admit it to herself.

She'd known within that first year that ever getting old weird Harold to the alter was slim but she was addicted to the lesbian sex he not only provided, but demanded. She was living the highlife but without the any security for the future.

Five years ... five long years ... the best years of her life she'd let them slip by in hedonistic pleasure not taking into account the possible consequences.

Only when Harold's business ventures had gone sour in sudden and dramatic fashion had she come to her senses. His fortunes shrunk by fifty percent virtually overnight. The white knight who stepped in to staunch the bleeding was a stable financier by the name of Charles Winston.

After she passed her thirtieth birthday, Ester realized that her marketability was waning by the day. Happening into the sphere of the recently widowed financier was unbelievable and undeserved good fortune. She always felt Charles knew more about her relationship with Harold than he ever let on, but it didn't matter. He was very much in her target demographic and she played her every card without the slightest compunction.

At the age of sixty it seemed her new meal ticket wanted a trophy wife but with not so much age differential as to make it ridiculous. It was a match made in heaven except for little Rebecca the product of his first marriage.

Ester knew very little about Lydia, Charles' first wife, except that they weren't married long before Rebecca's birth; in fact not long enough. Lydia died in a skiing accident when Becky was just four years old leaving a grief stricken father with an un-fulfill-able parental responsibility owing to the practically constant travel needed to maintain his Empire. Ester had some idea of the efforts her late husband had taken to secure what he saw as proper education and upbringing of his daughter.

It would have been much easier if his moral standards had not been so high.

The closest he'd been able to come were the convent schools but the indoctrination to Roman Catholicism was hard to swallow. Nevertheless he enrolled young Rebecca in a convent in the north of Italy when she was five.

Ester was not exactly clear on what it was that made Charles want to uproot his daughter from the her school of six years but she knew better than to question those parental decisions. What she did know now that all the financial instruments were in her hands was that he was a substantial shareholder in Becky's school.

After Charles' death Ester had been as supportive of her step-daughter as she could be, taking into account that she hardly knew her. The young widow knew that she was facing an uphill battle to establish her authority in the testosterone rich world that her late husband had left her. She had a lot to learn and little time to learn it. Simultaneously getting a grip on parenting a tween was more than she could handle.

After consoling the grief stricken girl for a month she'd sent her back to the place Ester concluded was most comfortable for both of them.

The limo had barely stopped under the impressive portico of the hotel casino when the uniformed doorman opened the limo door.

"Good morning Missus Winston ... so nice to have you back," the middle aged man virtually bowed as he spoke.

Ester glanced to the rear of the limo and saw the young woman with the blonde hair stuffed into her chauffeur's cap retrieving their luggage from the trunk. Very efficiently she set it on the cart manned by a classically dressed bellhop. Her task complete their eyes met over the closed trunk of the Lincoln.

The driver's smile was more of a smirk as she returned to the driver's side of the car. She'd never forget the woman who'd caught the brass ring or the little twerp that had hired her ten years ago. The relationship was different than any of her other jobs her pimp had arranged for her. A depth of feeling began to develop for this customer and Kelly had a difficult time fighting it off.

'I do know her!' Ester decided.

The wave of feelings and emotions took her by surprise. The first was embarrassment.

'It's Kelly ... I'm almost certain ... no it can't be ... What would she be doing driving a limo?'

The embarrassment was followed by a more disturbing sexual glow and below that an even deeper emotion. The times with the honey blonde, after her voyeuristic boy friend had gotten his kicks, were tender and—dare she think it—loving.

At the time she would not allow herself to be distracted from her goal of snagging the multimillionaire; plus she could never completely shake the thought that the tenderness was all an act. Her lover was, after all, bought and paid for.

'She might have been hopping right out of bed with me and performing the same manipulations on her next customer.'

Ester used the mistrust to insulate herself but she could never entirely give up the hope of actually forming an emotional bond with another human being.

"Have a wonderful stay in our exciting city Missus Winston," the uniformed blonde said as she ducked back into the car—Ester shivered.

On her first trip to Vegas as Missus Winston she'd tried to contact the woman who'd awakened the alternate sexual need. Since it was Harold who'd made all the arrangements she barely knew where to start. Having practically no skills as a sleuth she soon abandoned the pursuit and relegated the relationship to a fond memory. If there was a possibility of something more with the sex trade worker she'd never know.

Getting out of the limousine discreetly was more difficult than getting in. The Chairwoman of the Casino Board caught a glimpse of pale blue panties as her step-daughter exited. She ignored the disturbing sexual rumble it caused and looked at the doorman.

Mister brass buttons and epaulets had averted his gaze looking off into space.

'That's how you keep this job as long as he has, ' Ester concluded wishing she hadn't looked.

Turning toward the magnificent gold and glass entrance Ester saw Hector D'Angelo descending the carpeted steps with his hand extended.

"Welcome Missus Winston ... so nice to see you again."

The feeling was not mutual.

She'd never liked the swarthy General Manger and she knew that her husband had concerns about his loyalty as well. He got and held the job because of his brother. Maurice D'Angelo was the much sought-after executive chef whose reputation and culinary skills were an important asset. They'd learned to live with his tag-along older brother.

Charles had arranged the hotel-casino's management structure so the Security Director reported directly to the Board—specifically to him as Chairman. The loyalty of the man he'd hired for this key role was beyond reproach. Ester had been a silent witness at the meeting when Charles had given Egan clear orders to watch the mistrusted GM's every move.

Reluctantly the stunning redhead shook D'Angelo's proffered hand.

"Do you have any special needs that I should attend to?" the hotel GM asked.

Ester kept the handshake as brief as possible and quickly walked past the obsequious lout.

"I'll let you know," she spat, making no effort to hide her distain.

She missed the devious smile on Hector's face as she mounted the stairs followed closely by her step-daughter.

Just inside the huge door held open by another of her uniformed entrance staff Ester saw Egan near a post in the middle of the lobby. He was lean and looked even leaner in the dark suit he and his staff wore. The Chairwoman altered course so that she passed very near the Security Director. No one noticed her pass the folded little piece of paper to him.

She was never clear on the background of her late husband's Chief of Security but she knew she was seeing him because he wanted her to. In her mind the man responsible to guard her assets was part chameleon and part wizard. He either had the ability to blend into the scenery or the ability to teleport himself—maybe both. On several occasions he had seemed to materialize out of thin air at just the right moment. She was hoping his wizardry had other uses.

His face turned toward her but the reflective glasses he wore shielded his eyes from her view. Charles had a pair of those glasses and used them when he played poker. From the inside they had a slightly yellow tint seeming to enhance low light, but from the outside they were like mirrors completely obscuring the wearer's eyes. All of the security detail wore them in various styles. Ester was always a bit disconcerted by them.

Egan took his eyes off his new boss and her daughter crossing the vaulted marble lobby long enough to steal a glance at the slip of paper.

Your office 9:30 tonight

Was all it said.

---

Rebecca was thinking what a different world she was in as they crossed the opulent lobby. Her boarding school was nice but austere by comparison. This is where she belonged. She was hungry for knowledge and experience, and not the kind you could get in that God forsaken school in the mountains.

'If I'd known that getting caught kissing would get me out of there I'd have done it sooner, ' she thought as they got into the private elevator.

Her first French kiss administered by her older more experienced friend was wonderful feeling and the reaction was typical of the puritanical concentration camp she'd been imprisoned in.

Her life was changing so fast and in so many ways that the teenager was struggling to keep up. She couldn't help wondering how fateful telling her father about Sister Eloise a year and a half ago had been.

The convent school that she'd been attending since right after her mother died was home. The time she spent with her father and Ester was vacation; a couple months out of the year all totaled. It was during those brief adventures outside the stogie school that she got a taste of privileged life that was her birthright. Even though she was still under close supervision by her parents she still saw the possibilities. Once in a while she even had the thrill of ordering some of the servants around herself. It made her tingle like she'd gotten an electrical charge—she hungered for more of that.

Becky couldn't remember how the conversation started. How had they ever gotten onto the embarrassing subject of her first period anyway? It didn't matter now. When she told her dad about how the sister had helped her through it he'd gotten upset. Now she realized what an awful mistake it had been. It wasn't anything he said it was just the look on his face. A month later she was in a different school. This one wasn't connected to the church, it was private.

Since that fateful conversation she'd come to understand that when Sister Eloise had made her come to her room several times an month to make sure her cycle, as she called it, was progressing normally that it was considered abuse.

'Abuse? I loved every minute of it and I was learning so much, ' Becky remorsed over her uprooting.

Each time she went for the 'checkups', the sister would make her get completely undressed and feel her all over. Particular attention needed to be paid to the development of her breasts which was sort of understandable because they were growing so fast. Sister Eloise told her that the massage she did would make them develop with a nice shape. Her bum needed the same kind of shaping massage. At the time Rebecca was very grateful to the sister for taking such good care of her. The checkups weren't unpleasant; quite the contrary, they gave her a special sort of tingly feeling. The best part was when her examiner checked between her legs. That part always took the longest.

The very last checkup Sister Eloise had promised that next time she would start explaining the wonders her body was capable of. Then Becky had made the catastrophic mistake of sharing with her father.

'How could I know he'd react the way he did?' she excused herself. 'It all seemed so right so natural to me.'

She'd grown up since she was a toddler with the girls at her old school. Some of them were going to become nuns. The curriculum at her new school wasn't that different except the religious components were gone. What she was hoping was that one of her teachers would pick up where Sister Eloise's tutoring had been cut off.

Becky learned quickly that the mere mention of the human body or any of its functions was a forbidden topic. The Headmistress Missus Rutgers was very strict and stern. Each student had their own room and private visiting was a serious violation of the rules. Even though Rebecca had concluded that her classmates were more likely to fill-in and extend her education in the topics forbidden by the school's administration, it wasn't easy.

One of the older girls, Emily was her name, seemed to be willing to share her knowledge and experience. She wished they could sit in her room and just talk about things, but they always had to meet in the common room and there were usually other students there. Emily was so much more experienced and had promised to tell her more about sex and stuff and then her dad died.

For a couple of months after that she really didn't want to do anything but stay in her room when she wasn't in class. She was much too young to learn what a broken heart was all about.

Slowly the pain had eased as she came to grips with her loss. Eventually her relationship with her friend picked up where it had left off.

Getting any privacy in the common room was rare but when they did Emily started explaining to her about sex and what men and women and sometimes women and women did together. Those conversations gave her the same tingly feelings she'd gotten during her checkups. That's when she finally realized what Sister Eloise had been up to, and why it had upset her dad.

Emily said that she could show her lots of things and the subject of kissing came up a few times. It was hard for Rebecca to believe that it was only two days ago that Missus Rutgers had caught them behind the bookshelf with Emily's tongue halfway down her throat. The next thing she knew her step-mom was there and she was being whisked away into this other world. In this world she wasn't bottled up, told when where and what to do. In this world she occasionally had authority—power—and she craved it.

'Why was everybody so determined to keep her from understanding the feelings she got so often ... it wasn't fair!'

Sister Eloise was on the verge of unraveling some of the mysteries; so was Emily. Every time she got close to someone willing to satisfy her hunger, someone else would step in and thwart her quest.

---

The owner's suite was spacious and made the lobby look like it was decorated by furnishings from Wal-Mart. Whenever she was here Ester always felt as though she was royalty. Not that their other houses and villas weren't luxurious it was something about the Vegas penchant to overstate the overstated.

Two uniformed maids stood next to the entrance to the living room. Their traditional black uniforms with white lace trim contrasted with the light oak and sand colored leather furnishings. Almost every table had a slightly different but complimentary bouquet of cut flowers. The fresh floral fragrance pervaded the space and yet was not overpowering.

"Good morning Missus Winston," the shorter Hispanic looking maid greeted Ester and Rebecca as they crossed the threshold.

"My name is Marguerite and this is Bethany," she nodded toward the slightly taller and fairer skinned servant. "We'll be at your service during your stay. If you need anything at any time you can simply press the green button on any of the phones and your wishes will be attended to immediately."

"Thank you," Ester responded politely as the bellman entered with the luggage.

The porter knew his job and where to go. He wheeled the cart into the owner's bedroom first and after off loading Ester's bags proceeded to a second bedroom to deposit Rebecca's things.

"Would you like us to unpack now or shall we do it later?" the compact and evidently quite curvy woman with a trace of a Spanish accent enquired.

Ester thought for a moment and then said, "No I think you should do it a little later ... I'll ring."

"As you wish madam ... will there be anything else right now?"

"No ... that'll be all for now," she dismissed them.

Marguerite and Bethany made a move that could have been construed as a curtsy and then left right behind the bellman closing the door as they went. The body heat activated cameras followed them.

"I'm going to the workout room to loosen up ... what are you going to do?" Ester asked as she started toward her bedroom.

"I might watch a little TV and then take a nap. I didn't sleep that well on the plane." Rebecca replied.

The large plasma screen on the wall was programmed to display a flowing pattern a bit like a lava lamp when it was in standby mode. When Becky pushed the menu button on the remote control she was presented with several options.

The first one was 'Hotel and Guest Services' the last one was 'Watch TV'. The background of the menu was the impressive façade of the hotel casino. Out of curiosity Becky chose 'Services'.

The screen now displayed the gaming floor of the casino as a background with a sub menu over it. The first item was 'Gambling Services' the last one gave the private school girl a start. 'Adult and Escort Services' it read. Rebecca glanced in the direction of the owner's bedroom and then with a shaky hand chose the bottom item on the menu.

Another submenu came up but Rebecca was too thrilled by the background to read it. The picture showed two girls who didn't look much older than her, sharing a very sexy looking, made for the porn camera, tongue kiss. Her stomach did a flip and she felt something like a tightening or clenching in her vagina.

"I'll be around an hour," she heard Ester announce as she emerged from the bedroom.

Panic gripped the teenager and she urgently searched for the 'back' button so she could get the titillating image off the screen.

Ester was standing there in a royal-blue spandex unitard. It might have been mistaken for paint. Every detail of her step-mother's magnificent body was clearly displayed.

Becky's breath caught in her throat. She'd seen the gorgeous redhead in some fairly revealing swimwear before but there was something about this outfit that sent shivers down her spine. Maybe it was because she was afraid of being caught looking at the hotel's adult services and maybe it was the erotic background photo that had immediately brought to mind the kiss with her classmate that primed her for the intense reaction.

"Something wrong?" Ester enquired and Becky realized that her face must be showing all the things her body was feeling.

"No ... no," the teenager tried to cover scrolling down the main menu to choose 'Watch TV'.

Glancing back at her step-mom she saw what she interpreted as a disapproving look.

'Did she see what I was looking at?' the girl holding the remote control and trying to get a neutral expression on her face wondered.

'I wonder if I should engage the parental controls, ' Ester was thinking as she pressed the green button on the phone which immediately illuminated and made a soft beep signifying that it was engaged. A second later Marguerite's Spanish accented voice responded through the hands-free speaker.

"You can come and do the unpacking now," the Casino Chairwoman informed the maid.

"Very well madam," the Latina agreed and Ester broke the connection.

She was aware that there was distrust on her face when she said, "Better let the maid know what you want for dinner and what time you want it when she comes to unpack."

Becky nodded because she was still feeling a host of unfamiliar sensations, many of which embarrassed her.

Her step-mother turned and went down the short hallway that led to the well equipped private workout room.

The girl's eyes on her created very pleasant but guilty sensations. Ester was not unaware of the sexuality she exuded and was certainly no stranger to lustful stares. The thrill she experienced made her sometimes think of herself as a closet-exhibitionist; if such an oxymoron could be coined.

It wasn't in Becky's experience to know that one of the reasons the high round hills of the older woman's royal-blue painted ass thrilled her so much was because her step-mom really knew how to walk even without the benefit of high heels.

The confusion of feelings made Rebecca shudder as she went toward her room. She'd decided to change into something more comfortable than the little sundress she'd put on when they'd woken up on the plane. Passing the door to her mother's bedroom she noticed that Ester had just dropped what she'd been wearing on the plane right on the bedroom floor. The little pile of clothing seemed to attract the girl like a magnet. Crossing the elegant sleeping chamber all the sensations seemed to be intensifying while at the same time the teenager was having an adrenaline rush from what she thought of as spying.

The lacy white thong lay on top of the expensive suit that would certainly have to go for cleaning now. Becky had seen pictures of thongs in magazines but had never seen one in real life. The idea that her step-mother would wear such erotic underwear was turning up the volume on the tingle between her legs. The teenager stood over the pile of discarded clothes for a few seconds before summoning the courage to pick-up the tiny panties.

Holding the lacy wisp of fabric in her fingers it was as though they were weightless. She could see them and feel their texture but they were so light that it was almost as if she were imagining them.

Rebecca would not have been able to tell you why she brought her mother's underpants to her face. It was as if her hand and arm had a mind of their own. The womanly fragrance went straight to her head at the first whiff. Feeling dizzy and intoxicated the young girl pressed the little lace triangle that had been covering Ester's vulva to her nose and inhaled deeply.

Her eyes closed and she almost passed out from the wonderful aroma. Surprisingly there was a hint of her mother's perfume, a very faint but noticeable under odor of urine, but by far the largest component of scent was female arousal. Becky was familiar with the scent from her own pussy stimulating secessions. Very recently she'd summoned the courage to actually taste her own juices. Would her mother's taste the same?

Eyes closed and swaying slightly she applied her tongue to the crotch of her panties. The flavor was different than hers, sharper and more pungent she thought. She found it delicious.

Rebecca would later think that it was remarkable that she heard the door at all. In reviewing the event later she concluded that there was some defense mechanism deep in her brain that was on guard against getting caught doing something she'd be embarrassed to admit. The warning system worked but it was not quick—or at least not quick enough. By the time she registered the heavy clunk of the suite's main door closing the maid was very near or at the doorway to the bedroom.