The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 03

"You want me to walk around, by myself looking like this?" Rachel said, looking at Charlie.

At this, Rachel felt like a lead weight had settled in her stomach. She had the sudden fear that Charlie might shut her out or play some cruel joke on her. Rachel's heartbeat jumped to a thousand beats per minute. What if Charlie locked her out as some strange trick? How would she get back home looking like this? What if someone saw her and guessed who she really was?

"Really?" Rachel said, "I thought that was only if I passed the first test, which I might not."

"Keep practicing your voice," Charlie said. "You have passed the first test. You look stunning. Next week you have to go out down to the restaurant downstairs. If you chicken out, I'm sunk. I just want you to walk down the corridor and back. You don't have to talk to anyone or be seen. Do that, and you'll get your show fee." Charlie said, "Oh, I like that moody, dark, smoldering look for him. That's good. Keep blinking as much as you can. Perfect. Well, if you want the show fee, then you have to walk the walk. Alone."

"Really?" said Rachel.

"Rule 4: If it's important, rehearse everything. Remember, do this, and I'll pay you. I can't have you wimping out on the night."

To prove her point, Charlie went over to one of the equipment bags. As Charlie passed, Beth tapped her watch. "Not coming," Charlie said, and Beth nodded. Charlie stooped over, pulled $200 out of a bag, and waved it around.

Rachel couldn't help but worry about what would happen if someone from high school recognized him. Charlie shadowed Denver to the door, and Denver noticed one of the flat cards used as door keys and grabbed it.

"Just once around the block," Charlie promised.

"OK," Rachel said.

"Big, deep breaths. You can do this," Rachel said to herself.

With that, Rachel found herself stepping out of the doorway.

"I'll be right here. The door is unlocked. Don't worry, I can see you on the hotel's CCTV on my phone," Charlie said as the heavy, dark door shut firmly behind Rachel.

The Thornbury hotel hallway was a lavish display of opulence and refinement. The walls were adorned with intricate gold leaf patterns and adorned with framed artwork depicting scenes of the countryside. The floor held a thick immaculate carpet, and the ceiling was adorned with sparkling chandeliers that cast a warm glow over the entire space. The atmosphere was hushed and peaceful, with only the gentle sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor. The air was fragrant with the aroma of freshly cut flowers, arranged in elegant vases on marble-topped tables.

The doors to the guest rooms were made of rich, dark wood and adorned with brass handles, and the plush carpets beneath them muffled the sound of footsteps. It was a place of comfort and relaxation, a haven of luxury and refinement in the bustling city.

With a deep intake of breath, Rachel looked around. It wasn't clear where the elevator would be, so she decided to take a left. As she walked down the corridor, the deep breaths began to take effect. It was empty, and Rachel held her shoulders back and tried to walk as well as she could.

"See," Rachel said to herself, "it's not so bad."

Tension rose again as Rachel approached another junction. As she did, there was a large mirror. Rachel did a double-take as she noticed her reflection standing in the corridor. Rachel stopped to admire herself.

The young woman stood before the mirror, her stunning beauty on full display. She was dressed in a short, glittering gold dress that hugged her curves and shimmered in the soft light. The fabric was a deep, rich shade of gold, and it caught the light with every movement, casting a dazzling array of sparks around her.

Her hair was styled in a sleek, elegant updo, with a few wispy strands left loose to frame her face. Her makeup was perfectly applied, highlighting her sparkling blue eyes and full, pouty lips. She wore a pair of delicate, strappy gold heels that added to her already impressive height.

She was the epitome of glamour and elegance, ready for a night out on the town. As she took one last look at herself in the mirror, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation for the evening ahead. She knew that she would turn heads wherever she went, and she couldn't wait to see what the night had in store.

'Rachel would be wearing a ring,' she thought as she noticed the simple necklace.

It was in the mirror; She then noticed the glow of the elevator lights. She turned around and started walking towards the elevator. She was nearly halfway there, 'touch the elevator and get back,' she thought. The atrium now came clearly into view below.

"Nice evening," said a voice from behind.

Rachel nearly jumped out of her skin, saying "Oh!".

Turning round, Rachel noticed a hansom man was a rather tall figure, standing tall and proud in his sharp tuxedo suit. The suit was tailored to perfection, fitting his broad shoulders and narrow waist like a glove. The fabric was a deep, rich black, and it shone under the soft lighting of the room.

His dark hair was styled in a sleek, fashionable manner, and his piercing brown eyes sparkled with intelligence and charm. His features were strong and chiseled, giving him a rugged, masculine appearance. He exuded confidence and charisma, and it was clear that he was a man of distinction and taste. He was a true gentleman, handsome and refined, and he carried himself with a sense of ease and grace that was truly enviable.

The stranger was in his late twenties or early thirties, and you really noticed his dark hair. There was a slight intangible military tinge to his manner. The way he stood and moved made you feel that he wore his tuxedo on a regular basis. He seemed at ease with this style. His face had a clearly defined jawline, and he had a short beard. The shape of his dark umber eyes traced the outline of pistachio shells, but they were clear, warm, and inviting.

"Sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice smooth and confident.

Rachel's heart was racing in her chest, her palms slick with sweat. "Oh god, I'll never see this guy again. I'll never see this guy again," she thought to herself as she tried to calm down. She could feel the dampness gathering at the back of her knees, a sure sign that she was on the verge of wetting her pants with anxiety. "Just use the accent and talk and get out," she told herself, forcing herself to take deep breaths. "Keep blinking," she added, hoping to appear normal.

Forcing a smile, Rachel replied, "No, it's fine. You must be part panther, walking so quietly."

The man's lips curved into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Rachel turned and started towards the elevator, her feet feeling like lead. The plan agreed upon by text was to walk there and back, but she was desperate to escape this situation. As she walked, the man rushed up and overtook her, his shiny patent leather shoes catching her eye.

"Allow me," he said, reaching out and pressing the call button for the elevator. "Lobby, yes?"

Rachel was surprised. If she walked off now, this would look really odd. Might he call the police or something? 'Fuck, fuck,' she kept thinking. Rachel nodded. He kept looking at her. Did he know something? Was he suspecting who she really was? Might he try to grab her wig?

"Is there a prom ball on tonight?" he said.

Rachel's head was screaming 'run, run.' She looked down at her legs.

"This is rather short for a prom dress, right?" Rachel said.

The man smiled at his own mistake. At this point, there was a bell like a timer going off. The elevator doors slid invitingly open. The man held his hand out to stop the doors from closing.

"After you," he gestured.

Now Rachel would have to get into the elevator. Screaming every profanity in her head, she stepped inside, followed by the man.

"You look hot, you OK?" he said.

"No, just fuck off," Rachel thought, feeling like she was going to either have a heart attack or vomit, whichever was the more deadly.

"I'm fine. Are you here for a ball?" Rachel said as the doors slid shut, sealing her fate. Rachel realized she should go down. Get out, then go back up.

"I'm flattered you think I'm young enough. No, just dinner with friends who are in town. What about you?" the man said.

He was quite confident. You felt if you ever met James Bond in real life, he would be like this. Except this guy was clearly from the midwest. Mr. Bond's eyes kept roving over Rachel as they stood there.

Rachel just wanted to scream, "stop looking at me."

On the other hand, her confidence was growing. He hadn't challenged her on the accent. He was treating her like a woman. He seemed convinced.

"Oh, just dinner with friends," Rachel said.

At this point, the elevator entered the huge atrium. It then settled into the ground, surrounded by some pools of water. The man held the door open and waited for Rachel to leave.

"Perhaps you can have a drink at the bar?" he suggested, following Rachel out.

Half of Rachel wanted to scream, "just fuck off, will you?" The other half was getting quite drunk on the success of the deception. The idiot really was falling for this. He was falling for Rachel. This was insane.

"Dinner with friends, remember?" Rachel said and then smiled.

The lobby was full of people walking around. She could see the street beyond, Hector standing proudly at the reception desk. This was busy; lots of people could see her. She had to get out.

"They can wait. Just one drink?" he said while Rachel looked around for the restaurant area.

"Perhaps another day," Rachel added.

"Another day then," the man said.

"I'd give you my number, but a phone wouldn't fit this dress, and I'm a klutz with numbers. Oh, hang on, I forgot my handbag thingy," Rachel said, thinking of the perfect excuse to go back.

"Handbag thingy?" the man said.

Rachel pressed the call button. Then blanked on which floor she was on.

"Yeah, handbag thingy. It's a technical term," Rachel said as the golden elevator doors opened again. Rachel stepped hurriedly through the door.

"I'm Hunter," the man said.

As the doors shut, Rachel stopped them an inch apart and smiled again.

"I'm Rachel," she said. "You can use me as your quarry any time, Hunter, but can you tell me what floor I was on?"

The doors, having failed to close, opened fully again. Rachel was scared he might follow her up.

Hunter smiled. "Fourteen."

Rachel punched the button. "Like I said, klutz with numbers. Bye," she said as the doors closed again.