Hunger, Chapter 2

by Jackie

Snapping back to the here and now Becky dropped her arms. She was still holding the thong at about waist height when she saw Marguerite standing in the doorway. The intoxicated teenager could not read the expression on the maid's face.

'Did she see me with the panties up to my face? Could she tell that I was licking them?' they were questions she wasn't sure she wanted the answers to.

Still the look on the Latina's face was either shock, or disgust, or ... Becky simply didn't know. The thirteen year old felt like she was on an elevator that just dropped ten floors in freefall. For just a moment the look on Marguerite's face was so similar to the one she'd seen on her Headmistress's yesterday that Becky even thought the maid resembled Missus Rutgers. The stern old bitch could be as cold as ice and as hard as steel—imposing. A part of how she maintained discipline at the private school was instilling fear in the students. She could invoke the cultivated reaction with just a look; like the one the servant was giving her now.

Rebecca was at first overwhelmed by the fear and shame she'd been conditioned to feel, but then another response began to rise and gain strength. It was a feeling of superiority; the feeling that the woman in uniform, standing in the doorway, was there to serve her with no right at all to judge.

"That's okay Miss Rebecca you don't need to pick-up after yourselves ... that's why we're here," the maid said moving toward the youngster.

Marguerite's face at first displayed erotic shock but that rapidly wilted into an expression of inbred inferiority. Her instincts made her feel as if anything the hotel guests did was the lifestyle of a superior species.

Rebecca's face, in the same instant, went from frightened teenager caught by an adult doing something wrong to an authority figure addressing a subordinate; a relationship she'd only dreamed of.

"Why didn't you knock? You can't just barge in here anytime you like just because you have a key," Becky scolded the Hispanic maid.

"I'm sorry ... so sorry señorita, but when the señora called for me to unpack, I thought ... I thought..."

"I don't care ... do what you're supposed to do," Rebecca spat and dropped the underpants beside the pile she'd picked them up from in the first place, and stormed out of the room.

Rebecca walked purposefully with no purpose into her own room and slammed the door behind her for effect. The maid's stomach did an agonized roll. Whenever a guest was displeased with her, which was exceptionally rare, it made her feel ill.

The teenager pulled her sundress over her head and threw it carelessly before grabbing her small breast buds. She squeezed her firm little cupcakes hard and let the unfamiliar feeling of power mingle with her arousal. Becky flopped on the bed and tugged her pale blue panties off and cast them aside. Running her fingers through the sparse corn silk fine fringe of hair just around her slit she felt things inside twitch. She cupped her whole vulva and rubbed its plump fleshiness back and forth. It felt so good and she always got so gooey but she knew there was more.

Rebecca was sure that if her sessions with Sister Eloise had continued that she'd have learned the secret. Emily probably also knew how to get past this cramping, yearning hunger. There was a way to get the pressure that built up to release she was sure of it.

Marguerite went about her task efficiently in the next room; hang the elegant and expensive clothes in the large closet. She felt the shameful stirring in her loins when she came to unpack Missus Winston's lingerie. The soft silk and satin felt so wonderful on her slightly calloused hands. The red satin bra with the seamless cups made her hands tremble as she carefully refolded it. Impulsively she brought the brassiere to her face and gently moved the elegant softness against her cheek wondering how the luxurious material would feel on her breasts.

From the doorway Rebecca watched the maid fawning over her mother's underwear. She'd put on her long soft and cozy night shirt. Well, it used to be long, now it was more mid thigh. She was never sure whether massaging her coochie made it better or worse but she had to do it all the same. The Hispanic woman with the long black hair tucked up under her cap was facing the open drawer of the bureau. Becky could clearly see the rapt expression on the maid's face as she stroked the red bra against her cheek.

"When did unpacking become a spectator sport?" Ester commented as she swept past her step-daughter and into the owner's bedroom.

Marguerite hastily put the bra she'd been fondling into the drawer and closed it.

"Just finished m'am," she reported unable to meet the gaze of her boss's, boss's boss.

"Good ... I'm going to shower and then get ready for dinner," the woman in the skin tight blue unitard announced.

The maid stowed the empty suitcase in the closet on her way to the door.

"You should let Marguerite know what you want for dinner and what time," Ester reminded as she closed her bedroom door.

Rebecca looked at the older woman with the big dark downcast eyes wondering just for a moment how old she was. There was definitely a resemblance to Missus Rutgers but the uniformed woman in front of her had to be at least twenty years younger than the Headmistress of her private school. The black dress was a little snug and it did not really enhance and define the servant's curves. The scooped neck of the dress might have been low enough to show some cleavage but for the white lace ruffle that trimmed it. The little apron was actually part of the skirt and had lace around the edge similar to the tiny cap that served to confine what appeared to be quite long and amazingly black hair.

"I'll have a cheeseburger and fries," Rebecca ordered the American classic which would never be served at her school.

"Would you like some salad? We have a—"

"No!" the teenager cut the maid off in mid sentence.

"How about a nice vegetable medley with—"

"NO!" Becky surprised herself with how forceful the negation sounded—it was almost a shriek.

They were about four feet apart and Marguerite's eyes seemed to be focused on the floor about midway in between them. Becky felt her pussy twitch when she saw the older woman flinch.

"Bring it in as soon as my mom leaves for dinner," the teenager commanded and strode to her room light headed with power, leaving the obliging Latina near tears.

Rebecca flung herself on her bed again clutching her crotch. The achiness seemed to spread out as she squeezed herself.

'How in the world am I ever supposed to learn how... ? I've hardly even seen what one looks like, ' the thirteen year old mourned her lack of knowledge.

'That would be a good start, ' she theorized; but how to do it?

'A mirror, dummy, ' she abused herself.

There were no mirrors in her bedroom. She went into her adjoining private bath. The only mirror in there was over the counter. How could she get her kitty reflected in a way that she could see it. She'd have to sit up on the counter.

'It's not wide enough, ' Rebecca lamented. 'Even if I sit right out on the edge I'll still be too close ... plus I could fall off and break my neck.'

She giggled at the thought of telling the paramedics what she was doing that caused the accident.

'A hand mirror, ' it came to her like an epiphany.

'Maybe Ester has one.'

Across the hall to the owner's bedroom she walked in without even thinking about what she was doing.

She was on a mission.

The higher level of humidity was caused by the steam wafting through the open bathroom door. Her step mother was alternately singing and humming a tune the teenager didn't recognize over the sound of the splashing water. When the realization hit home that the gorgeous redhead was standing naked a few feet away Becky forgot why she'd come in the first place.

The achy rumble in her lower belly turned to a twitching itch as she approached the steam-filled open door.

The image wasn't perfectly clear. There was a shimmering surreal quality to the vision of the naked redhead turning to rinse her hair under the shower's spray. Fortunately for the peeping Thomasina the water had washed away most of the opaque condensation that could have clouded the clear glass shower stall door.

Rebecca felt as though there was a low level electric current being applied to her pussy. Having her arms up fluffing her saturated hair raised the large breasts of the woman in the shower so that they were standing virtually straight out. The normal sag caused first by their weight and second by twenty or so years of gravity was pulled out by the hands on head pose. In their natural position they looked a little too large for Ester's narrow chest but in this position they looked huge. The thirteen year old crouching by the door thought she could even make out big pink areolas and little pink nipples though the water streaked glass.

Her gaze descended over her mother's flat belly until she encountered a narrow strip of reddish gold closely cropped hair immediately above the pink folds of the woman's overstuffed labia. The lack of clarity did not diminish the girl's excitement at seeing her first vulva, other than her own which she'd never seen very well.

'That's why I came here in the first place, ' Becky's mind refocused. The crouching girl strained her eyes to make out more to her step-mom's coochie and inched closer.

To the neophyte it looked like some of her mom's insides poked out but she couldn't be totally sure because of the distortion. She edged closer again. When her mother's manicured fingers came into her field of view the crouching teenager felt as though a very hot cloth had been applied between her legs.

Ester was remembering the night she'd spent with Kelly, the honey haired chauffeur who'd driven them from the executive airport. She'd been only the second woman Harold made her have sex with.

The first, Heather, had been very aggressive and rough. After dinner they went onto the parlor and without warning the brunette was all over her. She remembered protesting and this other gorgeous woman just kept going while her mark ... uh ... her prospective husband sat sipping brandy and smiling.

It was rape that time.

'Can a woman rape another woman?' Ester wondered as she squeezed her breasts and started to gently tease her delicate nipples.

'And can you call it rape if you orgasm three or four times?' probably not.

Anyway the next time, which was the interlude she'd been drawn to think about because of the chauffeur, was much more pleasurable. She'd come to grips with how sex worked with Harold. She was prepared from the outset to give him whatever his heart desired; oral, anal, DP, she just hadn't anticipated this.

Kelly had started stroking her hair and telling her how beautiful she was as soon as they'd finished dinner. They'd sat kissing sensuously on the couch for a long time. It was that necking session that caused Ester's right hand to stray to her pussy.

Running her middle finger up to collect the lubricant that was protected from washing away she drew it up over her semi erect clit and let her finger nail dig into the hood.

"Oh God!"

A rush swept up over her.

'It's been such a long time, ' she realized.

Her finger tip played over the swollen and swelling glans of her clitoris, feeling the heat and the pressure begin to build as she visualized how Kelly had lowered the top of her dress and so lovingly lapped at her big boobs. The honey haired 'pussy for hire' had slipped her hand up under her skirt and her fingers under the leg elastic of her panties and started running her finger tip over her outer but well lubricated folds.

Dizziness was the harbinger of the orgasm. Shuddering and shaking Ester thrust three fingers as deep as she could into her vagina.

The unexpected clatter came at the worst possible moment. It didn't completely stifle her orgasm but it definitely diminished it.

It took the soapy redhead several seconds, trying to figure-out what the cause of the strange noise could have been. She opened the shower stall door, and seeing nothing as she'd expected, settled back under the soothing spray to enjoy the meager afterglow.

When she tipped over the waste basket Becky nearly had a heart attack. She up righted the stupid little plastic pail but at the same time saw her step-mother stop what she was doing. A hasty retreat seemed logical.

The panic escape from her step-mother's bathroom quelled her arousal to a degree.

Sitting on the leather sofa in her nightshirt, she tuned in the Discovery Channel just because that was her comfort zone. It was similar to what was playing on the school TV most of the time.

'I wish I could have gotten a better look between her legs, I bet I could have really learned something ... I know she was playing with herself but I still couldn't see exactly how she was doing it, ' Rebecca sulked over her interrupted peeping.

The strapless coral colored cocktail dress was an original and the price tag would have floored Marguerite. The skirt tapered in so much just above Ester's knees that the teen on the couch wondered how she could even walk—it was as carefully practiced a skill as staying balanced on the patent leather stilettos whose color was an exact match to the dress.

The pinched in skirt accented the casino owner's womanly hips the same way the synched waist accented her bust. Her lustrous multi-toned red waves hung on her bare shoulders. The sheen of the rosy orange material hugged every curve and contour of Ester's hour glass figure. Breathtaking was the word that occurred to the overwrought teen barely covered by the worn cotton nightshirt.

Becky caught just the faintest waft of floral perfume when her step-mother bent to kiss her on the forehead. The curious teenager couldn't help noticing how leaning forward caused the full tits she'd recently seen in the shower to push the dress away revealing cavernous cleavage. The sudden urge to bury her face in their squishy softness came as a shock.

It was one thing to be fixated on vulvas and vaginas; she had one, and no manual to go with it. She had glimpsed the potential but in order to realize it she'd need help. That had little to do with sexual orientation. This erotic fascination with breasts had larger implications.

'Am I a lesbian?' Rebecca wondered as she watched her step-mother's tightly encased ass move sensuously across the room.

Opening the main door to the suite she turned, "Have a pleasant evening, sweets," she said. "I have a meeting after dinner and I'm not sure how late it will go so don't wait up, and don't worry."

The rap on the door was soft—tentative.

"Come in," the youngster allowed. There was only one person she was expecting at this time; and she had a key.

Marguerite dragged the trolley behind expertly as she negotiated the automatic door closer. Rebecca immediately got the image in her head of the maid with her face buried in her step-mom's bra.

The curvy Latina rolled the food cart in front of the couch and lifted the silver lid keeping the plate warm.

"I said no vegetables!" Rebecca shrieked.

Marguerite felt as though her stomach had just landed in her shoes. It wasn't actually a serving of vegetables—more of a garnish that the sous-chef had felt necessary to dress up the rather boring plate.

"It's ... uh, well it's not really—" the server tried to excuse but was cut off.

"I told you and you did it anyway," Becky glared at the chagrinned older woman.

"If it offends you I'll take it away ma'm," Marguerite tried to cut her losses by reaching for the plate.

"What if I told my mom what you were doing with her underwear?" the teenager challenged.

The server froze at the gut wrenching suggestion. She hadn't damaged the garments in any way. In fact there'd be no evidence of what she'd done other than the youngster's account; and yet it was mortifying.

Rebecca watched the rising panic and the already large dark eyes get wider.

"You'd like to wear those things wouldn't you?" the teenager purred. The maid said nothing.

"You really want to try them on ... see what they feel like against your skin ... on your tits," Becky continued pressing the beleaguered servant.

What she felt was like a rumbling, a hunger, between her legs as she pressed her advantage.

"That's what you have to do for me ... try on my mom's underwear ... or I'm gonna tell," the gauntlet hit the floor.

It never occurred to the teenager, but for the middle-aged server the possibility of cardiac arrest was not out of the question.

"I ... I can't ... por favor," the Latina begged.

"You can and you will, " the girl commanded jumping up from the couch and grasping Marguerite's arm.

There wasn't a huge difference in height but the woman in the black dress with white trim outweighed her tormentor by fifty pounds. That and the strength acquired in twenty-five years of quite physical labor would have ensured victory in a physical contest; but first there had to be the will. Marguerite was much too conflicted to resist. She permitted herself to be guided into the owner's bedroom.

It was weak but it would still have to be characterized as a shove when they reached the middle of the room.

"Take your dress off," Becky commanded as if she had every right.

Tears burned the corners of her eyes as the servant reached up behind her neck and lowered the rear zipper to the middle of her shoulder blades.

"Por favor señorita," the Latina begged as she reversed her arms and reached up from below.

For the teenaged tyrant it was impossible to separate the feeling of power and control from the burning twitching of arousal between her legs. The combination made her feel as though she was floating above the whole scene.

"Go on ... Take it off," Rebecca coaxed.

The black dress with the white detailing hit the floor on top of the sensible black leather flats on the petrified woman's feet.

The contrast between the olive skin and the white cotton underwear was remarkable.

"Take your cap off too," Rebecca ordered.

With trembling hands Marguerite plucked the hair pins and dropped them with her cap at her side.

"Shake your hair out," came the next command.

Even though she was nervous and embarrassed the compromised maid felt a surge between her legs as she shook her head and let the raven black curls drop onto her shoulders.

Standing in her Wal-Mart underwear in front of the teenager her nipples stiffened and her coochie fluttered. Yielding to the hotel guest's demands was her normal job but getting naked was unique.

Drunk with power Rebecca surveyed her coerced plaything. The tussle of back curls surrounding the Latina's pretty face gave her that 'just out of bed' look. Becky's eyes roved down Marguerite's well defined fleshy figure; pausing first on the well stuffed brassiere. The extra little bump in the center of each cup was evidence of the servant's erect nipples. Down over the soft slightly pudgy tummy to the high waist of the white briefs, Becky continued to the triangle at the juncture of the older woman's thighs. The wisps of black hair curled around the sides of the leg elastics were all the more apparent because of the stark color contrast. The older woman's fleshy olive colored thighs were tight together and her legs were shapely if a little thick all the way down to the puddle of black maid's uniform surrounding her feet.

Rebecca opened the dresser drawer and located the red satin bra and panty set that had enthralled the shivering woman just a couple of hours ago. She tossed the sexy expensive lingerie on the bed.

"These are the ones you really liked ... aren't they," the teenager challenged. Tears escaped the underwear clad maid's eyes as she nodded her head.

She thought, just for an instant, about her kids and her husband and felt so ashamed. She could not remember the last time she had been so sexually aroused.

"Try them on," the teen commanded in her sternest most authoritarian voice. Marguerite's pleading eyes searched Rebecca's face, looking for mercy.

The girls voice softened, "You know you want to."

There was no denying that the girl was right. Marguerite looked from the luxurious undergarments to her tormentor as the logistics of the demand sank in. In order to try the sexy bra and panty set on she'd have to remove her department store under-things—be completely naked. Waves of heat washed over her and her nipples began to itch as she reached up behind her back.

When the multiple hooks released it was a relief the Latina mother normally felt only in the privacy of her own bedroom. Pulling the cups down off her teardrop shaped boobs resulted in an unexpected sexual rush. Exposed to the coolness of the air in the owner's suite her nipples seemed to be growing, reaching out like antennae for something—anything—to soothe the incessant tingle.

Marguerite knew the tears of shame that were dripping from her eyes were miniscule compared to the flood that was building inside her vagina. There was actually something akin to relief when she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her briefs and stripped them off. She was naked, it couldn't get any worse—so she thought.

Rebecca's eyes had been focused on the pendulous breasts as the wobbled and swayed with the maid's movements. She estimated that the long dark nipples were the size of the first joint of her thumb. She could recall the nuns at the convent putting Vaseline on her thumbs to keep her from sucking them right after her mother's fatal accident. It had worked, but now she thought that the maid's teats would not taste like petroleum jelly and they would feel so wonderful in her mouth.

The twitching pulsating rumble between her legs seemed to rise in intensity as the white cotton briefs descended. The thick fullness of the thatched black hair at the apex of the Hispanic woman's thighs was remarkable. Becky's first thought was that it was like the maid had a small furry animal like a mink nestled between her thighs. The hirsuteness obscured any visualization of the woman's vulva.

'What do I have to do to get a good look at a pussy?' Becky wondered even as the older woman's nakedness began to make her own crotch pulsate.

Marguerite picked up the red satin bra and leaned forward into the cups. As her heavy breasts settled into the luxurious fabric an electric tingle spread over her body eventually focusing right between her legs. The 'D' cups encased and molded around her melons perfectly as she straightened up and reached behind to try to fasten the back strap.

"How do you play with yourself?" Rebecca asked the critical question. Even the phrasing was a challenge.

Not, 'do you play with yourself' but ' how do you play with yourself' as though it was a given. The woman working to fasten the too tight brassiere strap was trying to remember the last time she had masturbated. It had been at least a year—probably more. Her husband took his sexual gratification with her a couple of times a week but orgasms for the vibrant Latina were rare. She could have filled the void with her fingers as she used to do as a teenager but she always felt it was unbecoming for a married woman to indulge in such juvenile pursuits. Normally she just buried her sexual frustration in her work; she didn't think about it. Now this gringo, this child was forcing her to focus on the ecstasy she could coax from her womanhood.

'It won't take much, ' the naked maid concluded as her fingers pulled on the hairiness of her plump vulva.

Rebecca dropped to the floor in front of her server watching intently as the blood red gash appeared in the black fur. The uncharacteristically horny older woman drew a finger up along her spongy soft slippery folds until she encountered the firm projection at the top of her crease.

"Tell me ... tell me exactly what you're doing," the kneeling teen demanded while clutching her own crotch.

A quick flick over the bulging clit and then her fingers focused directly below the pea sized knot.

Rubbing in concentric circles pressing into the hot slippery plumpness of her engorged labia, heat and pressure she hadn't felt in a long time was building in her pelvis.

Becky could see the shiny black hair of the woman's luxuriant pubes getting wetter and wetter as the Latina's fingers massaged her needy sex. From her position on the floor two feet in front of the self-pleasuring maid the heady fragrance of female arousal filled the girl's nostrils. She tried to duplicate what the older woman was doing but it was really hard to see. The combination of Marguerite's thick pubes and the speed of her manipulation made it almost impossible to visualize.

"Tell me what you're doing," Becky wailed.

She tried to sound commanding but the plea was just pathetic.

Marguerite nevertheless heard it as it was intended and tried to respond. The need to please hotel guests, that had become so engrained in her seventeen years of service, had never taken this form before. There was a whole other department to deal with these kinds of customer needs. When she was younger she'd even dreamed of joining that department; but then she got married and had kids and the idea remained a fantasy.

"I'm ... I'm rubbing my lips ... ugh ... just below ... below my clit, aaahhhggr..." the breathless maid endeavored to comply with the order.

"The inner lips are really sensitive ... ugh ... ugh especially near the top," the jilling woman realized that the bra she'd been unable to fasten had fallen down her arms and was now hanging from her rapidly twisting wrist.

Barely missing a stroke she flipped the red satin onto the bed. In the moment that the maid's hand was not blocking her view Becky saw how the woman's long inner lips now pouted out through her thick fur glistening swollen and wet. At the top, where they came together, was a cone shaped projection of less crinkled flesh. To the kneeling girl it looked as big as her baby finger. Right at the bottom of the cone Rebecca though she saw something poking out but then Marguerite's hand was back and working the clear fluid coating everything into a milky lather.

"I ... I ... don't like to go right on it until ... until right ... right..."

Rebecca had almost stopped her own manipulations. She saw the older woman dig her fingers into the sloppy hairiness of her vulva making a sound like nothing the teenager had ever heard before.

The maid's hand, which had been a blur up until a few seconds ago, was now almost stationary but the kneeing girl noticed that three fingers were completely embedded in the swollen folds. The way the tendons on the back of the woman's hand were working Becky deduced that the fingers were doing something inside—but what?

Looking up from her position on the floor the teen was thrilled by the way the maids pendulous olive toned breasts wobbled and swayed with the shuddering contractions she was experiencing. Then Marguerite's free hand, the one that wasn't embedded in her pussy, came up and hugged her fleshy melons. The small slightly calloused hand gripped onto one of her dark thumb sized nipples; squeezing and pulling hard enough to stretch the abundant breast tissue. Several aftershocks wracked the Latina's body but each was seemingly less violent than the one before.

'It's over and I didn't learn anything, ' the girl thought petulantly.

She was tempted to go closer the aroma was so enticing but there wasn't much to see. The maid was still hunched over, her fingers still mashed into her cookie.

The ache in Rebecca's loins was worse than ever but her arousal had been thwarted by Marguerite's premature climax and inadequate narration.

Jumping to her feet the teenaged heiress shouted, "Get out ... get out right now!"

The subservient Latina had never been shrieked at with such vehemence in her life; her shock and shame mingled with humility. It was a comfort to the castigated maid when her teenaged torturer stormed out of the room leaving her alone with her shame. She dressed as quickly as she could, not bothering with her underwear, instead stuffing it into the large pocket in the dress formed by the apron.

Rebecca stomped into her room and flung herself onto her bed again. She growled in frustration and thumped her little fists into the bed. A moment later she heard the heavy door to the suite close. A thrilling if terrifying idea occurred to her.

Returning to the salon she pressed the remote control buttons that would get her back to the titillating menu selection... 'Adult Services'.

Beside the item 'Escorts and Companions' was an extension number. The background image of the two young women kissing resurrected the warm tingles that had muted during the hiatus.

Rebecca's pussy twitched and her stomach rolled when she picked up the phone and pressed the three numbers.

She tried to deepen her voice—to sound older—it was a waste of effort.

The display on the sixty year old Entertainment Coordinator's phone identified where the call was coming from. Claudette's transition from Madam to Entertainment Coordinator was not only seamless; there was practically no transition at all. She had always been superbly discreet, and knew well enough not to let on that she was aware of exactly who was on the other end of the phone line.

"Send a young woman to my room at eight this evening," Rebecca put on her most mature authoritative voice. "I'm in the—"

"Yes ma'm you're in the owner's suite. Do you have any specific requirements?" the Entertainment Coordinator probed.

She'd never spoken directly to Ester Winston but she was positive that the voice coming through her ear piece was not the casino owner. Whoever was in the suite with the attractive heiress evidently wanted a diversion to pass the time.

'Specific requirements?' Becky was totally unprepared for the question.

"Well I uh ... um..." she stammered sounding like the thirteen year old that she was.

'Specific requirements! Oh God ... I don't have to say on the phone what I want the woman for, ' the teenager prayed.

"Age, hair color, body type—" the experienced procurer prompted.

The teenager's head was spinning and her pussy was throbbing. Overtop of all that were the nervous butterflies. They were trying to get her to throw down the phone and run to her room.

"Uh ... young and ... and pretty," Becky croaked envisioning Emily.

"Uh huh," Claudette confirmed the information was understood. She was thinking that the field really hadn't been narrowed at all.

There was a protracted silence while the girl in the faded nightshirt squirmed on the leather sofa.

"Body type?" no response came.

"Tall, short, thin, curvy, plump ... large breasts, small breasts," the Entertainment Coordinator prompted.

Rebecca was so dizzy she thought that she might faint. She'd never custom ordered anything, not even a pizza. This was almost more than she could grasp. She'd called Adult Services to rent a sex tutor. This woman made it sound as though they were going to custom build one.

Just as she thought she wasn't going to be able to pull this off after all something welled up in her. The short definition of the feeling was entitlement. She was entitled to this service. Hell in a very real way she owned the damn place. Her dearly departed overprotective father had interrupted her sexual education at the convent. Wasn't it fitting that his employees—his organization—should remedy the injustice.

Images of various women who'd had an affect on her swirled in her head.

"Not too tall, red hair and big boobs," she blurted and was slightly embarrassed at having used the slang term for breasts.

"Very well ma'm ... eight o'clock you said?" Claudette confirmed while hitting the sort keys on her data base for the best matches.

"Right," Rebecca sighed feeling a rush now that the order was placed.

"The young lady's name is Jodie ... you are aware of the rates and conditions," the Entertainment Coordinator prepared to issue the obligatory caution.

"I don't care!" Rebecca shocked herself by how authoritative she sounded.

"The appointment is confirmed then ... will there be anything else this evening?"

"No," the teenaged girl responded not quite as forcefully and then hung up.

Becky wondered how much of the feeing of euphoria came from anticipation and how much came from hyperventilation. Looking at her cold cheese burger and fries she decided to pass and focus on trying to imagine what Jodie looked like.

'Maybe I should get dressed up, ' she considered. 'I don't need to look good for her, I'm paying her ... as a teacher ... well I'm not paying exactly but—'

In the end she decided that the nightshirt was a bit worn and the sundress was better because it made her look less like a kid.

Rebecca put her dress back on, the one she'd worn on the plane, but decided that panties were a waste of time. She went to her mom's room and sat down at her make-up table.

'I've never used any of this stuff, ' she thought looking at the array of facial products. 'I'll probably wind up making myself look like a clown.'

'Maybe just some lip stick.'

She chose from the storage box that contained at least ten different shades. The pale pink lip gloss was subtle enough. Emboldened by her success with the lipstick she moved on to eye shadow and mascara.

'I can always wipe it off if it looks stupid, ' she concluded.

She worked carefully and deliberately for several minutes and finally sat back to review the composite effect.

'Not bad for the first time, ' she congratulated herself. 'I think I do look five years older.'

'Could I pass for eighteen?' doubtful, but with the number of twenty-somethings on the streets of Sin City trying to look sixteen there might be enough confusion that she'd get away with it.

She had come to the conclusion that it was the best she could do and that it was passable when she heard the firm rapping on the suite's big heavy door.

Moving through the posh living space toward the portal to the outside world Rebecca felt her legs getting less and less steady. There was a war going on in her lower belly. Extreme nervousness was doing battle with rising sexual tension and for the moment nervousness was winning. The teenager cursed the tremor in her hand as she pulled with all her might on the golden lever door handle.