Billionaire and the Sisters Ch. 93

A note to readers: This is a long story that unfolds chapter by chapter through the eyes of two protagonists -- Mark and Elsa, and as in many of my other stories involves a growing spate of horny characters. Every ten chapters or so I will provide a short summary at the start of that episode to bring new readers up to date (see start of Ch. 90). This story could appear in a number of genres (Loving Wives, Incest, Lesbian, Fetish, and more) depending on the chapter, but the overall theme is Group, so I have applied this moniker to all chapters. The story is still being written, yet I intend to post a new chapter every couple of days. Enjoy.

Mark

Elsa coached me through the sixth checklist as she did it with me. This time we prepared and tested the back up hydraulics on the Boeing 737-700. I was again sitting in the copilot's seat with Cindy in the jump seat as Elsa flew PIC -- pilot in command. Both engines were idling and we were about to get our clearance, taxi, takeoff, and fly back to the mainland. Behind us in the passenger compartment rode the rest of our family and friends.

I read back the status lights from the annunciator panel near my left knee and overhead in the tightly arranged cockpit. "All lights in the green. Fire suppression system also green. Tertiary hydraulic pumps green."

I heard Elsa speak through my Bose headset, "St. Croix ground, November One Mike Whiskey ready to taxi, IFR to City Airport, with information Delta."

The radio woke up from its long slumber. At St. Croix their ground control frequency was also their clearance delivery frequency; "One Mike Whiskey, cleared as filed. Squawk four-six-five-two. Taxi to runway two-eight. Snooz Four departure. Switch over to tower frequency one-one-eight decimal six when ready for take off."

Elsa checked in with the tower as we reached the run-up area. After announcing our readiness for takeoff she heard, "Cleared for takeoff, One Mike Whiskey. Contact departure on one-two-eight decimal six-five passing through one-thousand-two-hundred. Good day."

We started to roll the short distance to the ten thousand foot runway. I watched Elsa pick up and quickly read two more checklists, verbalizing to herself each of the items as she looked at each item on the panel, even pointing at some of them with the laminated checklist page. She had me steering the jet onto the wide runway and lining up with the centerline, as she made sure the Snooz Four departure plate was on the iPad on her yoke.

Elsa spoke into the mic, "One Mike Whiskey rolling on runway two-eight St. Croix." She released the brakes, pushed both throttles forward, and we accelerated quickly down the runway. She kept her right hand on the throttles as she watched the airspeed and steered the plane down the centerline. At one point I heard her say "V-2," and shortly thereafter we rotated and were in the air.

The tower remained silent. We'd already been cleared. We rotated at about a hundred-sixty knots a third of the way down the runway, but that was hard to tell as our speed was climbing rapidly as we accelerated. By commercial standards, we were light. We quickly set up a three-thousand foot-per-minute rate of climb, blasting through twelve-hundred feet about twenty seconds after the wheels left the ground and folded into the wing and nose. Our airspeed kept climbing.

Elsa promptly called in after switching frequencies, "San Juan Departure, November One Mike Whiskey with you off St. Croix climbing through two-thousand on Snooz Four."

Departure came on instantly, "Radar contact One Mike Whiskey. Cleared to flight level three-niner-zero, direct City Airport as filed."

Elsa responded and we banked into a half-standard rate turn for the jet as we came around to our heading for the city. We'd now fly a perfect great circle path to our home airport high above almost all the weather and other aircraft flying in various directions, especially as we reached the east coast of the contiguous states.

Elsa checked the autopilot settings as we continued to climb to our assigned flight level, and then double-checked with the magnetic compass. Over her shoulder she asked Cindy, "Did you see me forget anything?"

Cindy smiled at her sister and teased, "Text book, my darling sister. I couldn't have done better myself."

The three of us laughed. Elsa said, "I'll turn off the seat belt lights." She switched on the planes intercom to the rear cabin where the rest of our family rode in luxury and spoke into the mic, "Ladies and gentlemen, the seat belt light is off; however, I recommend you wear your belts if you aren't moving about or engaging in co-ed activities that require two of you occupying one seat. There are no reports of turbulence, but there's always the errant fur ball of air out there to run into unexpectedly. You're in good hands with Captains Cindy, Mark, and Elsa in the cockpit."

From that point on the flight was almost boring except for a few changes of communication points as we cruised through the various air traffic control centers on the way to the city. We started down in altitude about thirty minutes before we touched down at city airport. There was a constant use of checklists as we monitored the large jet's systems and progress.

At our normal parking location at city airport we were met by a bevy of specialists: fuel truck, line men, cleaning crew, two luggage handlers, four limousines, and four war wagons full of security personnel.

Andy, Margo, and Don took one limousine and quickly disappeared for their homes. Another car took Wes, Scott, Anna, Vanessa, Monica, and Felicia and headed off towards their homes. Two golf carts squired Troy, Janet, Dan, and Sandy to the commercial terminal for their short flights to Atlanta; another cart took Jon and Amber to their car along with their luggage. The rest of us piled into one of the remaining limousines so we could head into the city and our condominium. Soon we had what looked like a presidential caravan heading into the city.

I sat in the middle of the long table looking across the table at Melanie and a trio of people standing in front of my executive office's massive projection screen. They'd just come into the executive conference room. She was doing some informal introductions of three very nervous individuals who worked for me but who I had never met: two women and one man. Mel said, "Mark, this is Karen Lowenthal, Nancy Redwing, and Bud Norway. They are the engineers I was telling you about in our Telcomm Systems Group that have the idea about a way to piggyback broadband onto our cellular technology in remote areas ... really anywhere. They think they can get upwards of a five hundred to two thousand megabits per second, but I'll let them give you the details. This is exciting stuff."

I was in my usual Dockers and shirtsleeves sans tie. I stood and turned to the sharply dressed threesome who all wore business suits, and in Bud's case, a tie. We shook hands. "Melanie told me briefly about your concept. I need to hear it first hand. Andy will be here in a minute. In the meanwhile, tell me about your backgrounds and what led you to this idea."

The three young engineers looked at each other, and then Karen started with a somewhat stiff outline of her resume: Purdue engineering, computer science and networking, masters from MIT in networking topology, with Worthington for ten years in our commercial division, most recently in our cellular technology departments."

We didn't make or sell cellphones, which was a commodity market dominated by Apple and Samsung -- the latter troubled by exploding Lithium-Ion batteries. We made the cell towers and telecommunications infrastructure the phones talked to -- a much higher margin part of the business where Worthington had a strong market share and competitive edge.

Karen turned to Bud, and he started. "I'm a University of Denver grad in double-E and computer science. I've been here at Worthington for six years." Nancy started, "I'm a University of New Hampshire double-E, with an MBA from City College; and I've been here eight years, all in the cellular tech area."

Andy hustled into the room with apologies about a long phone call he'd gotten trapped on. He sat with a huff and looked around. Mel did introductions again, and then asked the three engineers to start their presentation.

Forty-five minutes later the three engineers came to a stop. They'd finished their delivery and fielded a few questions along the way. Fortunately, they'd loosened up as they realized that neither Andy nor I were going to pound on them or try to trip them up in some way. We were quite friendly and cordial with the trio and encouraging. Izzy brought in coffee and cokes for everyone with a plate of home baked cookies she'd made the night before for just this meeting.

Andy, Melanie, and I looked at each other. I turned to Melanie and asked, "What would you do at this point?"

Mel smiled, "I'd give them ten million dollars and ask the three of them to create a prototype somewhere nearby so we could see whether it works and is as economic and effective as their estimates are."

I turned to Nancy, who'd presented the cost-benefit analysis of the technical scheme. I asked, "Is ten million enough? I'm very interested in seeing this move forward at high speed."

She gawked at the huge amount of money about to drop in her lap as the project manager, "Oh, my, yes. More money would make it happen faster if that's important. We can get more staff, particularly technicians fabricating the electronics and programming the new systems and modems. We'd do breadboards for a prototype. More intricate circuit designs, chips, and what not would come in a later phase preparatory to commercial production."

I looked at Mel and Andy; they were both nodding. Mel gave me a thumbs up.

I stood up and said, "Congratulations, you just got yourself twenty million dollars. Please get Mel a project plan with significant milestones and checkpoints by the end of the week. Andy will talk to your department head. I'd love to see some marketing of this concept in six months and live implementations started in less than a year. Andy and I'd like to touch base on your progress in about a month or when you have something significant to tell us. Mel will set it up. If you need any resources -- ANY -- to make this move faster, one of you please let Melanie know; she'll make it happen. Please consider that you are reporting directly to this office on this, although you should keep your usual management in the loop."

The three engineers blanched at the implications of all that I'd just said. I'd just painted a very aggressive schedule for them. What they didn't know was what I had planned to help speed this breakthrough in technology along for them.

After the engineers left the room, Andy, Mel, and I looked at each other. I speculated, "This is a winner -- like in the hundreds of millions to the bottomline on an annual basis. There are extensions to what they proposed they haven't seen. There's also a mechanical analog for what they proposed, maybe even something we could use in pipelines, for instance."

Mel nodded, "I thought you'd like this."

I asked her, "When is Tom Power back here?"

She shook her head, "Nothing planned that I'm aware of. He's pretty anchored in Silicon Valley with Nanotech."

I stood, "Then why don't you talk to him. Tell him we have a tiger by the tail for him to whirl around, and that Andy and I want him back here ASAP to talk about this project with him. Don't upstage the engineers; it's their idea and they need to grow with it. We'll provide the mentoring to make it happen. If you have to, have them brief him by teleconference. I want to talk to him after he sees what this technology can do. Tell Tom I've already thrown in twenty mil."

"Got it." Mel smiled. She rightly felt proud for spotting this technology when she ran through all the entrepreneurial efforts going on in the bowels of the huge corporation. She wasn't an engineer, but she heard a few of the right words to make her talk to the right people and learn more about what was going on. Mel was now in high gear.

Andy nodded, "I can see I'm going to be doing some reorganizing and moving key staff around again ... and I just got everything stable in the commercial division."

"Get those three whatever resources they need. If twenty million isn't enough let me know and I'll give them more. What they're talking about alone is a huge business with unlimited worldwide potential."

Elsa

Two weeks had passed since we got back from our villa on St. Croix. For most of us, things were pretty much normal.

The exception was Julie.

Julie had undergone a serious rebirthing experience on the island, and consequently had resolved to be a different person. She wasn't THAT different superficially, but many of her deeper and more fundamental beliefs and behavior patterns changed, especially in terms of how she interacted with each of us and in her attitude about sex.

Julie talked about the 'other girl' who she'd been, as though she wasn't one and the same person; 'The 'other girl' wouldn't have done that (or said that, or asked that, etc.)'. Many of her new questions revolved around relationships and sex. Directly and indirectly I jotted a few of them down either as she asked me or as I heard her talking to others. Occasionally, I'd get a text at work when she had a few minutes and Philip Emerson was napping.

How do you know when you're in love?

Is there a limit for how much sex a person can have?

Is there a way sapphic sex could involve penetration?

Is there a limit to how many people you can love?

When someone is called a slut, what have they done?

Is there such a thing as too many partners in too short a time period?

How can you tell when you shouldn't ask someone to have sex with you?

If you like sex with men and women does that make you bisexual?

Does anal sex hurt?

How do you deep throat someone?

What kind of limits or boundaries should I put on myself regarding sexual activity?

How do you know someone else is in love with you and cares deeply about you?

Are double penetrations or airtight sex acts more fun?

What's it like to be a sex slave? Is that good or bad or both?

What was it like to be filmed having sex? Did you like it? Could I see the DVDs?

What do they sell in the XXX shop near the Interstate?

If I have too much sex will I become desensitized and unloving?

Is there such a thing as too many orgasms?

There were many other questions, and like some of these, they made me laugh or blush or feel regret about Julie's naiveté. Here she was, about thirty years old, asking questions I might expect from a twelve year old who'd just had a serious birds and bees talk and hadn't yet been given the tell-all book about sex. Fortunately, my brothers and sisters took her under their wing and treated her questions seriously and carefully gave her answers, often qualifying the answers as only one viewpoint on the subject. No one teased her, and I chalked that up to the loving feelings everyone had for her.

Julie also completed a unique personal journey in those two weeks: she finished sleeping with every male and female in the household except Celeste. Every night she invited herself to be in someone's bed, sometimes doubling up on the pleasure by having two others. Needless to say, there were a few repeats that she enjoyed immensely. She also had Ryan give her The Experience.

Finally, as we all experienced and felt, Julie had stars in her eyes about the family's whole living and loving situation. She'd been thinking of herself as an outsider until the trip to St. Croix. Returning home, she wanted total immersion. She didn't want to be an outsider; she wanted to be included in EVERYTHING. That said, she was careful to not pretend to be a sister, but she verged on one so much I had to think about it, but only after Alice triggered my thinking on the subject by nominating her for the position.

While all this was going on, Julie talked to me about taking a few hours off around the lunch hour on Wednesday to teach a child development class in the Cyesis Program at one of the high schools in the city. The program was for the teen moms or expectant teen mothers who were still in high school or junior high school. In the school, all were unmarried. Most had already had their children, and the school had a childcare center for them. She found out the moms or moms-to-be in the program ran from age thirteen to nineteen years of age. She'd be teaching them about early childhood development. A nurse would also be teaching them about infant and childcare. I strongly approved of what she was doing. Celeste said she'd take care of Philip Emerson without any problem on those days.

Despite Celeste's participation in the sexual activities on St. Croix, she returned to being a little more reserved and private about her activities. She'd appear and join in about once a week, but other times we might find her only observing some of us with a smile or nod of encouragement.

During the months Julie had been with us, she'd typically disappeared in the evening after Philip was bedded down. I handled his midnight breast-feeding and diaper change. As part of her intentional personality change, Julie started to hang around the public rooms with us, being part of our circle and engaging in our conversations. After a couple of weeks and a few remarks from me, she stopped checking with everybody whether it was all right if she stayed to be with us.

Hanging out with us in the evenings often involved most of us engaging in sex in some way. I sometimes felt we couldn't hold a long conversation with each other without romantic and sexual urges arising that resulted in public lovemaking. Those couplings and groups that formed not only didn't bother Julie, I got the distinct impression that she welcomed them and wanted to be part of whatever sexual activity was starting -- the more public the better. Her eagerness led to her inclusion on a steady basis. She was beautifully passionate and enthusiastic in her lovemaking.

Celeste would join us by simply showing up to 'watch' what we were up to, sometimes with some kitchen duty as the excuse for being in the vicinity as we got amorous. One of the men would see her lust and go romance her a little. A few minutes later she'd be impaled on his cock fucking with wild abandon.

I had carefully explained to Julie about the thesis that all the members of the family plus our horny friends exhibited hypersexuality. Nymphomania was another term that got used, although that term generally seemed limited to women and in our case we all enjoyed that affliction. We were exceptionally horny -- all the time, and this meant that we usually wanted to engage in some type of sexual activity and we regularly did.

Julie just nodded at my explanation for our frequent sexually oriented behavior, and in hindsight, I realized that she had been seeing herself as suddenly experiencing the same feelings, urges, and sensations. The light had gone on inside her head about sex. Actually, it seemed to be more like an exploding nova.

Julie was doing everything she could to make up for about a dozen years of lost opportunity. She was constantly on the lookout for opportunities to engage in loving sexual relationships with someone -- morning, noon, evening, and all night. Even when she slept with someone, she was awakening in the middle of the night and luring that person into a sexual encounter and more orgasms.

Once I realized that, I wondered just how persistent her new feelings would be. Had she been a latent nymphomaniac who had suddenly realized the full extent of her condition, and would now let it flourish, or would she suddenly revert back to the shy virginal woman who had interviewed for our nanny position? I decided that we'd have to see over the next month or two just what direction the vectors in Julie's life seemed to be taking her.