The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 24

Rachel was feeling quite good. Newsweek had come to interview Levant for the European version and insisted that Rachel be part of the photoshoot. It seemed that people associated Levant with her as much as she was associated with him. An Italian magazine had also come to interview Levant. Levant was delayed, but the journalist insisted on staying to talk to Rachel. The journalist knew she was a poet and, in his own tangled English, asked her thoughts on Italy. Rachel tried to express her feelings about Venice, describing the city as made of poetry so ancient that it had frozen into stone and marble. What felt more genuine and less cliché was that she felt free. She could wander around Venice or Rome without that constant sense of being challenged or discovered. The feeling of being unclockable brought a strange lightness, as if a stern hand were no longer on her shoulder.

Rachel was celebrating the fact that there were only thirty days to go. Tonight she wore an elegant sequins body con maxi dress with a daring slit up the side above the waist. It was Italian from Milan but inspired by Herve Legér it moulded her shape emphasising the hips and making her legs look like they started near her arm pits. Her smooth sheer legs ended in a pair of Sergio Rossi shoes she had found in day trip to Florence in a tiny shop near the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Flore. They were hardly 'fuck me' shoes more 'fuck you, fuck you very very hard, shoes.' She wore her solid gold necklace she had been given on Douglas' yacht. Her make up was one of her own designs which Levant had approved off. It was hot, bold, and totally on point. She looked beyond fabulous. Peter and Douglas couldn't keep their eyes off her. She tried to move like she didn't care but in a way which was as casually provocative as a whore in church. She knew wanton eyes followed her movements in the room and she luxuriated in it.

With an indescribable delight, she carried a tray of drinks to the people sitting around. There was a certain tension in the air, which was strange considering none of the guests were Italian. It was no more important to them than the winner of Love Island. Perhaps she told herself it was just the sense of occasion. She felt the same thing she felt while watching the Eurovision Song Contest.

Rachel sat down and squeezed herself tightly next to Levant, who put his arm around her.

"That's a new look. Is it one of yours?" Levant asked.

"Yes," Rachel said.

"I like it," Levant said. He held up a chip and fed it to her.

She mentioned that it was her work, but pouting selfies had been sent across the Atlantic to confirm. She had shared the look with Charlie and then Bess. Finally, it had received a large number of thumbs-up from her Instagram followers.

Peter had behaved as if the new look was meant to please him. They had engaged in a more wild sexual encounters, all while Levant was away.

Rachel heard rumours about Levant. There was a recent case of sexual harassment against him, indicating that he was engaging in sexual activities throughout the European division. Lucy mentioned that he had wanted to receive oral sex from the girl while looking at a photo of Rachel. This news deeply saddened Rachel. If he was harassing anyone sexually, it should have been her; at least she was being paid for it.

Lucy had looked at Rachel and asked, "Seriously, how difficult would it be to give him one blow job?"

In response, Rachel had stopped refusing Peter. Peter initiated the encounters whenever he pleased. They had engaged in sexual acts in a disabled toilet in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. After looking at Sandro Botticelli's "The Birth of Venus," Rachel found Peter's face nuzzling her neck. He always began in the same way, kissing and using his fingers to explore her mouth. There was always that tangy metallic taste on his fingers. She would find herself gazing up at his broad neck and slim lips. She would engage in penetrative acts with him, but Peter remained in control. He could effortlessly lift her and hold her long enough to have sex with her in the shower. On another occasion, they had lunch together, sitting at a table in a piazza where they had filmed the third Indiana Jones movie. They laughed, and Rachel found herself imagining the young Harrison Ford kissing her. Her rear cunt had then twitched to the warm daydream.

Today it was raining in Venice. The weather in Venice would do a hand break turn, be sunny one morning, wet that afternoon. Peter said Rachel's moods were the same.

The sex with Peter was in someways better than with Charlie. Peter was always ready, rather than the busy schedule of Charlie she had to ration her affection from. For Peter, Rachel didn't have problems getting it up, but it was the constant availably which made it so spectacularly addictive. Over the weeks of their 'vacation' Rachel found herself gaming less and fucking more. There were differences between them, Charlie was more kinky and experimental, Peter loved to be in charge and be domineering and physical. When they got back to the US things would be tricky, Peter could get jealous. Rachel tried not to worry as time was short and they would all break up soon.

Rachel looked over to the drinks bar in the corner of the suite. She remembered with a slight electric frisk, when she had been bent over it on her stomach with Peter pegging her. She had come over the side cabinet when Peter had discovered Rachel's G-spot. After orgasming himself Peter had pushed Rachel down to lick up her own cum as punishment for not asking permission before cuming. He had forced her to look at a whole bunch of largely gay and BSDM porn with him.

Doctor Cooper had been very supportive of it all. Peter was behaving like a man, he said. If Rachel really wanted go back and to behave like a man then Denver would have to start behaving like this with CIS women. Denver's lack of girl friend and continued game playing was a sign of his reluctance to 'mature' into his masculine roll, because deep down he knew it wasn't for him. Rachel was unsure, she was now willing to accept she was possibly bi-sexual. Rachel as fully gay seemed a stretch. Cooper said you didn't overcome nineteen years of conditioning in a few months. legacy desires could hang around for years.

Rachel was waiting to get back to see Charlie to figure out how she felt. The fact she got harder with Peter than with Charlie seemed to be the only fact she wouldn't admit to. Where Denver's dick was often quite soft with Charlie, with Peter it was rock solid. Rachel desperately tried not to draw the obvious conclusion.

Everyone settled down as the live election coverage began on Political TV. The result was almost a formality, as the polls had predicted. The Socialists were expected to win. The Republican party, which was a coalition of far-right parties led by a highly dubious leader named Giulia Moretti, had an indeterminate number of illegitimate children that he refused to disclose. The situation was more complex due to the proportional representation system they used.

Levant was betting against the Socialists. They were leveraging a series of recent weather-related disasters to introduce strict green taxes. Levant had decided to support the Republican party because, despite their questionable politics, complete lack of competence, and slim chances of winning, it somehow made sense to him. It was unusual for Levant to back the underdog or the courageous loser.

Rachel was relaxing; she had become comfortable with touching and being held by Levant in public. Sometimes she still felt a shudder, but like Jimmy gutting fish, she had grown accustomed to it. They were waiting for the results of the first poll, so Rachel got up to assist Lucy in organizing things.

"How do you think things are going?" Rachel asked.

Lucy had been avoiding her, and now was one of the few moments they could have a conversation. They walked down the corridors toward the main restaurant and bar.

"Seriously?" Lucy replied.

"I thought you would be okay. I've been following your plan, and well, I'm still aiming to leave here next month," Rachel explained.

Lucy stopped abruptly. "I can't believe you manipulated me like that," Lucy said, looking at Rachel with nearly angry eyes.

"What do you mean?" Rachel questioned. "I was just doing what you told me to do."

"How could I be so dumb? You had him hooked and knew it was time to reel him in. Then you tricked me into giving permission. You made me think it was my idea. I said you had to be dumb not to notice. Well, I was the dumb one. You knew I would be the one who shielded him from gold diggers, and you managed to do what no other whore in Silicon Valley ever did--let you get your claws into him," Lucy said, folding her arms.

Rachel was back to feeling confused. "Look, I'm the one who wants to stop."

Lucy stormed down a few steps on the stairs, then stopped and looked up. "We both know that's a complete and utter lie, little miss Disney princess."

Rachel started to follow Lucy. She hated this; she hated when people thought poorly of her. Lucy began descending the steps of the stairs more quickly.

"What do you mean? We both want the same thing," Rachel said as she continued.

Lucy stopped at the bottom of the staircase. "You can't fool me; I know. So don't play the naive kid act with me. I can't believe you managed to dupe me so well last time..."

Rachel caught up with Lucy and grabbed her. "I don't know what you mean. I want out of here."

Lucy almost laughed as she shook Rachel's hands off her.

"Very good. Very good. Bravo, encore. Except I'm the one who signs the checks for the medical treatment, don't forget," Lucy said.

"My grandfather is coming out of the hospital. I'm fine," Rachel said. It was true she felt it had all been worth while.

Lucy took a deep breath. "That was your mistake. You thought the hospital wouldn't inform Levant about what's happening. You assumed that even private clinics have patient confidentiality. But when the bills for geriatric surgery decrease and there are referrals to a clinic specializing in women's ovarian cancer treatment, it's not for your grandfather. So don't play the role of little Miss 'I'm ending it' with me. I've seen through your manipulative behavior, you bitch."

Rachel stood there, horrified. "My mom has cancer?"

Lucy and stop clapping softly. "Bravo, such fantastic acting. The eyes, the slight tear. You should be in the movies, really. Don't you dare tell me you didn't know. Don't you dare."

Rachel weakly replied, "Honestly, I didn't know..."

Lucy started walking down the corridor toward the bar.

"Very good. The look of shock. Oh, fabulous voice. And the award for Best Actress goes to... you!" Lucy said, looking back over her shoulder.

Rachel rushed up, her eyes feeling tight. She hurried after Lucy, and her stiletto heels clicked rapidly on the stone floor.

"Tell me you're lying," Rachel demanded when they reached the opulent Venetian hotel bar.

The atmosphere was richly adorned with lavish golden accents, intricate Murano glass chandeliers illuminating the room with a warm, inviting glow. Plush velvet curtains draped along the walls, creating an air of elegance and sophistication.

Lucy looked around, desperately trying to catch the attention of the impeccably dressed bartender. She waved the note paper she had tightly clenched in her hand, the ornate design catching the light and shimmering softly.

"Certainly, Miss Price. I'm lying. Is that all, Miss Price?" Lucy replied.

The soft strains of classical music played in the background, adding to the refined ambiance of the bar.

Rachel, overcome with frustration, firmly grabbed Lucy's arm. The touch of their skin seemed to contrast against the luxurious surroundings. Rachel's heart raced as she surveyed the grandeur of the Venetian hotel, the lavishness seemingly mocking her inner turmoil.

"Look, we both know you're trying to get me fired," Lucy whispered, her voice tinged with anxiety. "I'm tempted to stick around and witness firsthand how you plan to tear apart the reputation I've built over eight years of dedicated service. How do you intend to turn an employee with such a long-standing record into a social outcast? I can't help but feel that you've meticulously planned and orchestrated every detail."

"I don't have anything planned," Rachel insisted, her voice barely above a whisper. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the fragrance of delicate flowers in exquisite vases strategically placed throughout the bar.

Lucy scoffed, her eyes scanning Rachel with a mix of admiration and disdain.

"That's your genius, isn't it? You exude an air of effortless spontaneity. Your every move is cloaked in an enchanting grace. Its quite fascinating to watch once you know. You even managed to deceive Peter, making him believe that he was the one who seduced you. How did you accomplish such a feat?"

Rachel, her heart sinking, felt another blow to her carefully constructed facade.

"You know about that?" she asked, her meticulously arched eyebrows forming a well-defined, black rainbow against her porcelain complexion. Her gaze drifted across the ornate tapestries adorning the walls, their intricate designs telling tales of Venetian history.

"Ha," Lucy laughed, shaking her order paper at the bartender, her eyes dancing mischievously. "Everyone knows about it. Peter can't help but boast, but you were well aware of that, weren't you? You're relying on it. You sought to incite jealousy in Douglas, precisely when you needed him to be envious."

They now stood in a small but elegantly fitted high-class bar that appeared to be a shrine to glass in all its shapes and forms. The glimmering crystal glasses behind the bar caught the light, adding a touch of shimmer and allure to the scene.

Rachel felt like she was melting. 'Why would I want that?' she questioned.

Lucy turned away from the bar to face Rachel directly.

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps Peter is the bait for the trap. You realized that sleeping with Charlie wasn't enough to make Douglas jealous, considering she's a woman. Now Peter... well, he's different. Man enough to drive Levant mad with jealousy, yet woman enough for you to claim you're not truly switching sides. It's peculiar how your affair with Peter conveniently coincides with the end of the contract. You extended it for a month, pretending you couldn't go to university in the fall as you had been telling people you absolutely must all along. Now that the contract is concluding, Douglas will be desperate, and you can still feign ignorance about your mom's cancer. What's next, another fake breakup? It was cunning the first time, but can you pull it off again? It was so brilliantly orchestrated, with the ring ready and the band in the restaurant prepared. So dramatic, picking a fight on the edge of a cliff. Did you scout the location beforehand? Oh, that's right, I was the one who sent James back for you, and he reported that you were picked up. There were no taxis or Ubers in the area that I knew of; I wanted to send one for you. Instead, a private car drops you off near Thornbury, with someone conveniently waiting to pick you up. Quite foresightful. It doesn't align with your story of a spontaneous breakup, does it? Oh dear, little Miss walking back in the wind and rain in tears... have I spoiled something?'

Rachel's eyes felt moist, and she kept blinking to see Lucy. The barman approached, and Lucy set the list down to speak to the waiter in Italian. Rachel, still in shock, stood by. Done, Lucy stood up from the bar stool.

"But..." Rachel managed to say.

"You know, I've been fending off women who only see him as a source of money all my life. I didn't think I would lose to a man. But you know what? I realize I was wrong. You're both cold, ruthless, efficient, ambitious, and, above all, remorseless. You're quite well suited for each other. I couldn't think of anyone who matches him better. Don't worry; you'll receive my resignation as soon as we touch back down in the US," Lucy said, taking out the corporate credit card to pay the bill.

"Look, I don't want you to leave. I don't want you to lose your job," Rachel pleaded.

"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer... good move. However, if you don't mind, I'm not falling for it. Thank you. After all, Peter is on your side now. How do you plan to use him? No, don't bother telling me. It would be a lie anyway."

The waiter approached from the far side of the bar with the receipt, speaking rapidly in Italian.

"Good, okay, we'll be waiting. Oh, and four, no, five more bottles of Champagne on room 101," Lucy said, smiling formally.

"Si," replied the barman. He was huge, tall, and roughly built, and apart from his fine clothes, he would have looked more at home working in the docks or on a deep-sea fishing trawler. "Here, um, what vintage?"

Lucy shrugged and looked at Rachel. "She'll tell you," she said bluntly and walked away.

************

Later, Rachel approached the room carrying one of the magnums. There had been a tremendous roar that she could hear from down the opulent corridor. Peter was on guard and opened the door for her. As she entered, he grabbed her behind through her chic knee-length skirt. Rachel took a step back and observed that the room was in a state of uproar. Everyone stood there, exhilarated. It felt as if she had walked from Renaissance Italy through a portal into a corporate mosh pit.

"We did it!" Levant exclaimed, looking at the others. "We did it. Let's do it, let's do it right?"

Everyone stood, shaking hands, slapping backs, and congratulating each other. Rachel, holding one of the magnums of Champagne she had ordered, immediately became the center of attention as the celebratory figure. Everyone held their glasses out.

"What happened?" Rachel asked Levant while pouring another glass.

"Well, the Republican Party won by a significant majority. There was a massive last-minute surge. They won many seats," Levant replied.

Rachel looked around. "But I thought they were trailing in the polls," she said to Volk, who seemed to be the only one not deeply engrossed in conversation with others.

Volk, appearing very confident and assured, simply stated, "The polls were wrong. The people have spoken. It's official and indisputable."

Rachel was on the verge of tears upon hearing the news about her mother. The whole situation felt incredibly harsh. Was it part of Lucy's plan? At the same time, she longed to be with Hunter, especially after this unexpected election victory, with Levant and the others brimming with confidence. They were all so pleased, and there was something suspicious about it. Hunter would know what to do. Excusing herself, Rachel made her way to her room. In one of the drawers, she retrieved her American passport and stared at it. Could she escape now? She wanted to, but that would be running away. She had been given enough jewellery to sell and purchase a ticket, but going through airport security meant risking a thorough body search.

The chest-tightening anxiety of being discovered clutched at her. She realized she had to hold on to this tiger's tail until the end.