The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 26

Cleaning up, Rachel went back to look at herself naked in the mirror. She wasn't sure how she felt about this. Upfront, she didn't have a problem with Levant doing her like this. It wasn't her, she wasn't being penetrated, so it didn't feel like it crossed her mental line. Perhaps she wondered if she should be less excited about being able to be intimate with Douglas. With the prosthesis pants on, she felt this might be the secret weapon.

She could get fucked by Douglas he would get what he wanted. If Lucy was right, he would get bored. He wasn't gay, so perhaps his head would finally see the danger. of the sheik finding out, that would be the end of his investment. Why risk it? Once Douglas shut down the relationship, she could go back to being Denver. Perhaps on a small but generous retainer to ensure her silence. A girl could dream, couldn't she?

This was definitely a new toy, and Rachel decided it needed a road test. She went over to the bed and was able to spread her legs and see herself in the mirror. She put her finger invitingly up her cyber fanny and posed mouth invitingly open. From that distance, it looked hot. So with the right clothes that would work. The other question was could she wear the desert fanny for an extended period?

Rachel decided to change and explore the hotel. Exploring hotels had become one of her hobbies, and she had a couple of hours to spare, along with a large envelope of cash. She realized it was a potentially dangerous, if not toxic, combination. In search of something to wear, she grabbed a black suitcase and rolled it into her room. She had chosen the smaller one for herself. Upon unzipping the bag, she noticed an unfamiliar scent. As she opened it, it became evident that it belonged to someone else. Rachel's attention was drawn to a jar of pills nestled in the top right-hand corner of the bag. Curiosity got the better of her, and she picked them out from their sock nest, discovering that the plastic jar was labeled "viagra." She checked the name on the luggage label--it was Peter's. Peter had Viagra?

"I thought this doesn't work on trans-men?" Rachel said to her self. Mimi was a fountain of Trans information.

Curious, she opened the jar to find numerous tiny blue pills. About half of the contents were gone. She sniffed the plastic container, and it emitted a metallic scent, reminiscent of the way Peter's fingers tasted on her lips. during sex. Tempted as she was to try one, a hard erection would break something, either desert gaff or her waterworks or, worst case both. Finding her makeup bag, she retrieved a small clear plastic bag from it and stole a few of the tiny blue pills. Hiding them in her cosmetics collection she would clock their purpose later.

Undecided, she resumed her search for something appropriate to wear. After exchanging bags, she finally found a simple black dress that would complement the stockings. With her growing expertise in makeup, she swiftly applied it. Tying a symbolic scarf around her neck, as Lucy had suggested, Rachel slid the engagement ring back onto her finger. A few moments later, she left the suite on her own.

The elevator was quiet, yet strangely fast. She stepped out into a lobby situated above the main one, bustling with various shops. She felt a tinge of disappointment as the shops appeared mostly familiar. However, her attention was drawn to a peculiar electronics store proudly calling itself "007."

"Hi," she greeted as she walked into the small shop. "I'm just browsing."

The assistant immediately sprang to life, his full attention focused on what seemed to be his first and only customer of the day. He was a small, narrow middle-aged man of Indian descent. His bald head gleamed, encircled by neatly-trimmed white hair. His movements, like his face, were wrinkled and sinuous. Rachel took a closer look at the tech gadgets, and then a grin of realization slowly spread across her face.

"These are bugs!" she exclaimed. "Secret surveillance bugs. How cool."

She gazed at the displays of tiny surveillance recording devices, including a miniature bug accompanied by a handheld receiver.

Rachel's eyes widened as she looked around. "I've figured it out. This is a spy shop!"

She pointed towards a small magnetic car tracker. "Are these legal here?" she asked, speaking slowly and gesturing.

The assistant shrugged. "Illegal to sell, yes. Illegal to use, no. Just say you're taking them home."

Rachel concocted a lie. "I think my husband is cheating on me," she said slowly. "Can I record him with her, yes?"

The friendly assistant nodded and showed her several larger devices, mostly camera-based. These devices had to be discreetly installed in fire alarms. They were also quite expensive. Rachel didn't want to use her credit card, knowing that Levant paid the bills and Lucy scrutinized the purchases like a fox watching a hen coop. She could risk using cash, as Lucy might perceive it as her being naive and over-tipping, which was somewhat expected in unfamiliar currency. It limited what she could buy.

Examining each display with fascination, Rachel was astonished by the ingenuity of many of the devices. Fake plugs, fake pens, fake everything. Then, Rachel had a moment of insight fake Pen.

"How far?" she asked the attentive attendant, while pointing at the surveillance pen. After some deliberation, she determined that it could transmit up to one hundred meters. If she could discreetly plant the pen on Levant, she might be able to record the meeting for Hunter. The receiver was an app on her phone, but all the recorded data could be stored on a tiny camera memory card.

"This is like the best power-up ever," she said, glancing around and handing over Levant's cash to purchase the transmitter pen and a memory card.

Rachel left the shop, embarking on her new secret mission. She found an upscale pen shop and bought a well-wrapped, heavy fountain pen. Keeping the expensive box, she discarded the $100 pen in the trash and replaced it with the recording pen. She then purchased an iced coffee from Starbucks and sat down to read the tiny manual. However, she suddenly stopped. If this plan worked, Hunter would be able to shut down Levant. Rachel hesitated for a moment. She truly wanted to please Hunter, even though it seemed irrational. Ultimately, she decided that she could always give Hunter the recordings after her mother had recovered.

She continued shopping, and, when she returned to the suite, Rachel found Lucy waiting for her. Lucy was sitting at a table, holding a large and intricately designed construction that resembled a expensive hat.

"Where have you been?" Lucy asked.

"Shopping for makeup," Rachel replied, dropping the stiff paper bags adorned with golden logos onto the floor.

"For two hours?" Lucy questioned.

"MAC had a lot to offer. Besides, you were the one who said I didn't even have the skills of a drag," Rachel retorted, hoping Lucy wouldn't inspect the contents of the MAC bag too closely. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to use the restroom." Rachel went and sat on the toilet, singing praises for the desert gaff.

"You need to be ready for dinner in forty minutes," Lucy complained, peering through the open door. This time, Rachel decided to keep her skin-colored prosthetic pants on and, for the first time, opened up. Soon, Rachel was back on her feet, wiping herself clean. Lucy looked on in shock as Rachel pulled her skirt down. Walking through the cool hotel, Rachel didn't feel sweaty at all. She felt like she could wear those pants all day.

"You need to get ready," Lucy said firmly as Rachel washed her hands.

Rachel smiled as she moved out. "I'll take that as a yes. Can you find my dress? It's the white silk one. I'll start working on my hair."

-------------A DAY AT THE RACES------------------

A few days after arrival Levant wanted some 'down time' as he called it.It was early evening when Rachel and Levant pulled up in the SUV at the Meydan Racecourse in Dubai in the near by UAE.

Peter, who was acting as the driver, got out and opened Rachel's door. He stood up and scanned the horizon for nonexistent threats through his pitch-black sunglasses. Rachel tried not to catch his eye. She had worn the prosthesis to the gym yesterday and gone through the entire ten-minute routine with him while wearing them.

They had retreated into a steam room, and Rachel had revealed what was under her leotard. This had driven Peter wild and certainly went beyond the bounds of sanity and good sense. He had finger fucked her on the spot. Rachel had laid back eyes closed, giving him the mother, father and grandparents of all fake orgasms. Peter had smothered her in kisses so badly her nipples felt like gold nuggets, and she even dripped pre-cum down her catheter. Levant was up in the presidential suite; otherwise, it was likely that together they would have broken the bed. Rachel had surfed on the high of knowing she possessed something guaranteed to drive Levant wild. She felt sensuous, sultry, seductive, and, above all, sexy. She felt like a siren, enticing men to their sensorial doom. The sensation resembled a firework parade in her heart, evident in every deliberate cat step she took.

Rachel briefly bowed down, then stood up to ensure that her hat, now securely attached to her head at a jaunty angle, wouldn't get damaged. She didn't worry that she looked like a complete idiot. Today she could wear a coat hanger and make it look provocative. Levant exited the vehicle from the opposite side, dressed in a very smart morning suit. His powerful frame stood out, accentuated by the suit.

Levant looked at her with cool eyes of approval. After Peter, she had been a very wicked girl and turned Levant into a mini fire hydrant, spraying his seed over the Versace sheets. After that attention, any of Lucy's reservations were forgotten like footprints washed away by the tide. Best of all Levant still didn't know about the Prosthesis pants; their discovery would be for him to find when she needed something. Best of all, like the girls in the midwest she would still be a virgin on her wedding night. She felt like the Queen of Qatar.

Rachel got out and straightened her silver stretch taffeta dress and jacket in slate and pearl dust. She called it her "mother of the bride" dress and wore it with some strappy sandals. She toned down the heels, but as Rachel, she made sure the hat compensated for any doubt she might have had. It transformed the unbelievable into the unforgettable. She appeared as the epitome of formal respectability, with a stylish hint of the exotic and avant-garde. She and Samantha had been scheming this from afar as soon as Rachel had been told about the event and dress code. Levant had sprung for the ludicrous expense of overnight shipping a wildly pricy hat from the milliners James Lock & Co. Ltd in London. Samantha had found it online, and they both agreed it said. 'I'm not here to bend the rules, I'm going to break them into very tiny bits, drop them to the floor and watch you cry'. That was a direct quote from one of her Instagram followers. The hat was wider than Rachel was a necessity in this sun.

Taking a look around, Rachel felt relieved to see that she wasn't the only one walking around with a headpiece. Many of the women were wearing long flowing dresses with small hats attached, similar to hers. A large crowd of people were flocking into the stadium, consisting mostly of Westerners in formal suits, with a few individuals in traditional attire. The evening was cooling down after a hot day, and the outside temperature provided a comfortably relaxing warmth.

"It's the Royal Cup," Levant explained. "It's a significant event in the racing calendar. Royalty from all over the world fly in to watch the race. They showcase the best horses here."

Rachel looked around, trying to get her bearings. On the horizon, she could see the lights of downtown Dubai. The city appeared like something from an illustrator's imagination, with tall, elegant buildings grouped together as if preparing for a family portrait. Surrounding the freeways and extending beyond them were vast stretches of desert and ongoing construction sites. To Rachel, it all seemed immensely futuristic, like looking at a city on an alien world. A cool breeze swept through, creating a perfect temperature in the city. Rachel, still feeling that her arms and shoulders didn't appear feminine enough, wore a short jacket over her shoulders. As she inhaled, she caught the scent of freshly cut turf and a faint hint of basil and oregano.

"Come on," Levant said, holding out his hand to Rachel.

Rachel looked around in awe at the vast, elongated building that loomed before them. It was larger than a cruise ship, even a super tanker. Everyone seemed to be dressed in their most elegant attire.

"I feel like... I shouldn't be here," Rachel said hesitantly.

Levant smiled encouragingly. "Nonsense. You look spectacular, truly. If there's anything wrong, it's not that you're not aristocratic enough for this place. It's that this place isn't aristocratic enough for you. You know why the sun has disappeared behind the clouds? I'll tell you: It's because it knows it has met its match in your smile."

He moved closer. "Come and see this. I want to show you this and a thousand other things, Cinnamon. It feels like every day of my life was preparation to meet you. Now I have so much to share, and I finally have someone to share it with. Look at you. You look breathtaking this evening, you really do. Today, you look like you're made of stardust."

They left the SUV. Rachel felt fabulous. She carried a tiny handbag and a small paper bag with handles. She had no idea how to call a cab to take her back to the hotel. 'Sometimes you just have to dive in,' she told herself.

Rachel followed Levant into the main building. They soon passed a number of very polite bouncers in smart suits. As they entered the Sky Bubble Suite, Rachel felt her heart ache slightly. They overlooked the entire racecourse from there. Where there was usually light sand and rock, the fields below were now a vibrant green. The grass had an intense, almost vivid color. The room itself was a large, complex bubble made from a grid of triangles. Rachel looked around.

"It's like we're in a massive computer drawing," Rachel said, her eyes filled with wonder as she admired the intricately designed triangulated architecture that soared above them. The geometric patterns seemed to converge and intertwine, creating a mesmerizing spectacle that captivated her senses.

If the restaurant was a glimpse into the future, the service and table spread transported them back to the elegance of the Victorian era. Stiff and carefully crafted napkins stood tall, forming delicate sculptures, while the golden knives and forks were meticulously aligned on the long, crisp tablecloths. The atmosphere exuded a sense of timeless grace and refinement.

As Rachel settled into her seat, she couldn't help but notice that the women around her continued to proudly wear their outrageous headgear, adding a touch of whimsy and extravagance to the ambiance. Among the patrons, she observed a few groups of men engaged in animated conversations, but it was the gentle and subdued discussions that dominated the room, creating an air of sophistication and tranquility.

With her fluttering false eyelashes, Rachel felt a subtle sensation with every blink, a reminder of her enhanced allure for this special evening. She found herself blinking more often when her gaze met Levant's, her heart quickening with each stolen glance.

"The workshop is going exceptionally well," Levant shared, "On the way back I'm going to stop in New York. The new trainees are doing the same contest you took part in last yeare. I thought you could come along help judge."

Rachel asked Levant what the point of the exercise was. 'Persuasion,' he had said. 'The managers had to learn the art of persuasion. Persuasion is the ultimate craft of a businessman,' Levant had explained. Getting people to work together to achieve what you wanted was the core of any successful business. Persuasion allowed you to convince investors to put their money behind your idea. If it failed, they would bear the consequences. Levant had told her that persuasion was the foundation of civilization. If governments couldn't persuade the population to pay taxes or the army to sacrifice themselves, humanity would be reduced to a collection of independent, unwashed families wandering aimlessly, following bison. For Levant, persuasion was civilization pure and simple.

"Take this meeting " Levant said his voice filled with admiration. "It's the best-organized and most valuable pitch in history, and I owe it all to you."

Rachel's eyes widened in surprise as the waiter approached their table, gracefully presenting the menus. She couldn't help but feel a mix of astonishment and pride at Levant's words, realizing the profound impact she had on his professional endeavors.

"Me?" Rachel whispered, her voice filled with a blend of humility and excitement, eager to delve deeper into the unfolding narrative of their shared journey.

"Yes, when I'm with you, I feel invincible. I haven't felt this way in... well, at least ten years," Levant confessed, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and newfound excitement.

"That sounds good. What are you having?" Rachel asked, her curiosity piqued.

Levant carefully perused the menu, his gaze fixed on the options before him. "I don't discuss business at the table. It's an old Levant family tradition," he explained, maintaining a sense of tradition and discretion.

Pausing for a moment, Levant's eyes locked onto Rachel's, his expression filled with admiration. "Sorry, sometimes I just get lost in those eyes. You have the most captivating eyes in the world. Has anyone ever told you that? They're like pearls one can look through," he remarked, a genuine compliment leaving his lips.

"Thanks," Rachel replied, her cheeks faintly flushed with a mixture of bashfulness and appreciation.

As an announcement echoed throughout the venue, capturing the attention of the patrons, people began to gather around the windows, eagerly anticipating the upcoming race. The horses paraded around, their energy palpable, as the crowd leaned forward in anticipation.

Levant turned to Rachel, his gaze returning to her. "Any horse catching your eye?" he inquired, curious to hear her thoughts.

Rachel shook her head, a hint of uncertainty in her response. "I don't know much about horses," she admitted with a touch of self-deprecation.

"I thought you grew up in the countryside in the UK," Levant remarked, his tone gentle yet probing.

Rachel was taken aback for a moment, realizing he was talking as if the cover story was true. She quickly recovered, maintaining her composure. "Oh, well, we mostly had jumping horses, not racing horses," she swiftly lied, hoping to divert any further suspicion.

Levant discreetly signaled one of the waiters, capturing his attention and hinting at a request for assistance.

"Four thousand dollars, US, on number five," he confidently declared, handing his card over to the waiter.

Rachel's expression turned blank, caught off guard by Levant's spontaneous bet. Levant noticed her surprise and looked at her with curiosity. "If you don't bet, you don't have anyone to root for," he explained, his tone laced with a hint of amusement.

Rachel responded with a playful smile. "That's been what I've been doing wrong with the Super Bowl all along," she quipped, lightening the moment with a touch of humor.

"Speaking of which, do you want to go to the Super Bowl?" Levant asked, his eyes fixed on Rachel, waiting for her response.

Rachel pursed her lips, contemplating the idea. "I thought the tickets were super expensive and hard to get," she voiced her concerns.