"Damn, girl, you're more fucked up than I gave you credit for."  Esther nodded with a half grin, as if to say there was a lot more where that came from.  He was a nice guy, the sort of fringe-head that she liked just for being who he was, and everything else was water under the bridge.  He began to describe, in friendly terms, a girl that had the show but not the act.<br/><br/>"Shit, you look like you need someone to teach a lesson to, and she needs one."  The remark made Esther laugh, albeit awkwardly.<br/>"I really look like that?" she chuckled as they made arrangements.  "Today must be getting to me worse than I realized."  He gave her her room number and wished her good fun.  "I appreciate it, Skinny.  Oh, and don't tell Mom, if you see her."<br/><br/>"Oh, sure.  It'd just break her damn heart, not buying you the first hour."  Skinny laughed.  It was humorous, even to her.  She was so far away from herself, she didn't actually believe this was happening.  She just rented a hooker.  And she didn't really feel that bad about it.<br/><br/>She pondered her luck as she walked up the steps.  Esther expected that Skinny would offer her a fat, sweaty ball of crack-addicted man meat, or something of the sort, when she asked for the low rung of the litter.  Instead, the man had almost exactly what she asked for.  A super-model level woman with a poor attitude.  Honestly, Esther would have preferred a man at this stage.  Someone with a bit of power behind who could hold her down, make her feel like she was the one who needed to be taught a lesson to.  A big, thick, polish sausage style cock wouldn't have hurt the mood either.<br/><br/>She still couldn't believe herself.  Her old perceptions of sex were still there, and she was actually doing this.  Sex ruined lives.  Sex with<em>her</em>ruined lives.  Nothing had changed, except how much ruin it actually caused.  But this was who she was now.  She would have literally eaten the clothes off of Olivia this afternoon.  She still wanted to.  And the only reason she hadn't ordered a Big Mac with a side of getting-fucked-against-the-wall was because this was a better idea.  This was happening.  And as far as she knew, she could either accept it or get out of it's way.  Until she had a better idea, this was it.<br/><br/>She opened the door and, in spite of herself, couldn't resist smiling.  The girl was straight out of a centerfold.  Full hips, violet eyes, a face that was already making her imagine what she'd look like in pleasure.  Dark, long and well styled hair.  Full, amazing breasts that strained against her blue dress.  And, as an actress sizing up a character, Esther instantly, irrevocably, and emphatically hated everything else about her.<br/><br/>She was perfect.<br/><br/>Esther closed the door and locked it.  These rooms had soundproofing, she was sure, but there was no reason to take chances.  She also had a peculiar feeling of control.  Of awareness.  She could let her Sex Goddess out whenever she wanted.  It would wait for her.  This was hers until she was done with it.  Dorothea came back to her mind.  How..<em>good</em>it had felt to watch her run away crying, to come into the bathroom and hear her sobbing.  To threaten her there, to let her foot steps and the poor girl's own imagination linger on her obvious presence.  To punish her.  To teach her respect.  To abuse her, for the sake of abuse.  It made Esther wet, just thinking about how good it had felt, and what had come next.  With some sense of horror, and delirium, Esther realized she wanted that.  She'd been burying the guilt all day, but God help her, she wanted more.<br/><br/>She fell into a character, then.  Her eyes opened like slow slits, her chin arched back and she briskly crossed the floor.<br/><br/>"The first thing you can do for me," she said simply, removing her shawl and tossing it to the side,  "Is show me how happy you are to see me."<br/>At this point, she expected the girl to give her a glazed over expression, like she was chewing gum that wasn't there.  Bored, unimpressed, wanted to go home.  Esther's reply to this was a little more vicious.  There were more reasons than one why she'd chosen to come here.<br/><br/>Esther ROLLS 1d12 for [Your Attention, Please] to make her own body intoxicating to look at.  Result: 8<br/>Esther uses [Predator's Insight] to examine the girl's weaknesses.<br/><br/>She felt that the ability had gone off.  She'd never tested it this way.  She needed to know what she was capable of, and here, she had a closed room, a captive audience, and an entire afternoon to practice.  Esther stood proudly, noticing that even since this morning, she felt more sexual, more beautiful than when she had woken up.  But her face betrayed none of the pride or joy she felt at knowing this.  Instead, Esther turned, letting her dress spin and she walked a little further away.  Upon turning back, Esther snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor at her feet.  "Crawl." she ordered.<br/><br/>IF the woman crawled, willingly or reluctantly, Esther would wait until she was at her feet, grab her hair painfully, and in her very most fearsome persona, lean down to her face and say the following.  "You will give me respect.  Or I'll take it."  Then she would throw the girl's face down onto the floor at Esther's legs, spreading them just a little in a non-verbal but mistakable instruction.<br/><br/>IF she didn't crawl at all, Esther would speak gently, but with an undercurrent of sheer malice.  "You won't enjoy making me come to you."<br/><br/>Esther felt a whole day, a whole life of rage billowing through her lust.  She wanted to tear the woman's dress apart.  But she wanted so much more than just to watch herself transform into her Other Aspect.  She wanted this woman to crawl, to cry, to bruise, and even bleed, for her pleasure, and her's alone.  Could she do it?  Was she strong enough, even now?