The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 32

It was nearly Christmas, and a storm was brewing off the west coast of the Asylum. Night had come unusually early that day, and the sky's palette was restricted to shades of coal and night. The Asylum itself was decorated with glamour and a joyous lack of sophistication. It half reminded Rachel of a Henry Moore sculpture adorned with tinsel.

That morning, Charlie and Rachel had both sneaked off to a health spa which had given them both enemas to be shiny and new for their adventures later with Logan. Rachel was in a Christmas mood; she was wearing a bright red dress. There was quite a lot of cleavage, offset by some fabulous diamond jewelry. The dress had a huge white strap which went around her arms, giving the impression that her arms were tied to her sides. It had a bow and was designed to look like she was wrapped up. She wore a red and white Santa hat at a jaunty angle. It was completely over the top and suitably festive.

Rachel wore some very glittery, heavy eyeshadow that sparkled every time she blinked her big eyes at anyone. Her lips were covered in a bright red, sparkling lipstick that she had to keep reapplying. As Rachel walked, she sensually swayed her hips; she had been doing that since the insertion of the first butt plug. The mechanism inside them constantly reminded her of sex. She was always a little turned on and had been in that state for nearly a couple of months now. She visited Grandpa and Hunter regularly. So she was a good girl to keep the supply of shiny clutter coming her way. Pretending to be affable had the side effect of making her feel amiable, so Rachel was in a Christmas mood and feeling peppy.

There was a crinkle of anticipation in the air. A giant Christmas tree stood in the corner with a pile of boxes beneath it. In one of them was a pair of boobs from Levant. They represented another chest operation, it was in the contract as a substitute for a nose job. Rachel was due to disappear just after Christmas. Rachel had tried to play pass the parcel with it, but no one was keen.

"I was hoping we could, you know, hook up last Tuesday," Rachel said to Charlie as she prepared the food to go. It would look like she was cooking, but in practice, one of Levant's chefs downstairs had done the real work. There was a list of timings, and provided she stuck to it, everything would be ready at the right moment.

"Well, I told you. We are trying very hard to be strict about our contract," Charlie said, helping Rachel push some star-shaped cookies onto a plate.

"Rachel looked over. 'You have a contract?'"

"We had some problems a while ago," Charlie said, trying a cookie. "I was working too hard, and, well, he was going off the rails. We went to couple's counseling. We kind of renewed our vows and created a written contract. We promised to stick to the letter of the contract. We can have, you know, stuff... but only with explicit written consent from the other partner prior to the event. So getting his consent for Tuesday was tricky; he was doing an audition that day"

"Right," Rachel said looking over to the nook.

Logan had flown in that morning. He had kissed Rachel when he arrived and simultaneously squeezed her ass. Even jetlagged, Logan was insanely cute. He was in a corner looking out to sea with Levant, tasting whiskey.

"Actually, I want you to promise me that you will make sure he has permission before he touches you," Charlie said, stopping and deliberately looking at Rachel.

"Sure, but why?" Rachel said. "I thought we were all going to do it together later"

"I'm a little worried he's going off the rails," Charlie began. "Doing it with my best friend... well, I hope you would tell me if he approaches you and does something to you."

"I'm your best friend?" Rachel said, checking another timer on the oven.

"Charlie pushed some trash down a hole in the kitchen island and looked up. 'I thought you knew that?'"

"That's so sweet of you," Rachel said. "I always thought Samantha was your best friend in the bay."

Rachel twisted, and as she did, the butt plug twisted. This wasn't one of the three golden ones; it was larger. Levant had given it to Rachel as an early present. This one was platinum with diamonds, and from the weight in her ass, it felt like it was worth a little over one hundred thousand dollars. All you could see from the outside was the shiny handle and the sapphire, large enough to choke a small dog. Rachel was going to keep this one. She couldn't pass it to Samantha and have her hand it to Jesse K. Even Rachel, as overly sexualized as she was, had some tenuous limits to her decency. Besides, there was something about wearing something so expensive yet invisible that made her feel deliciously raunchy.

The crown jewels, as Rachel called the plug, were everything, but they didn't massage her insides as relentlessly as Charlie's plugs did.

"She was just... she's a bit cold towards me at the moment," Charlie said, handing Rachel some oven gloves. "She thinks I should have done more when you were in Italy."

"I was okay," Rachel said, sipping some mulled wine.

'"But you came back with a much longer contract," Charlie said. "Sam thinks it was my fault. Anyway, I'm relying on you to make sure he sticks to the straight and narrow. Double check he has my permission before you let him touch you, okay? Then we can work up to the big moment unless Douglas suddenly gets cold feet at the last minute again."

"Sure, okay, no problem. But I mean, I think you lying there with us counts as telling?" Rachel said, taking another sip.

"If I'm conscious, yeah," Charlie smirked. "I'm relying on you. You're on top of his list of new asses to fuck in California. If he's doing it behind my back and not following the rules, I need to know about it. You're the only one I can trust to tell me something this important."

"And Sam wasn't available," Rachel said, taking a bite of Charlie's Christmas cookie.

"That, and she wouldn't touch him again in a million years."

"Really? Why not?" Rachel said. She couldn't imagine anyone who wouldn't give Logan ago if offered.

"She went off dick big time. I think one of the models she slept with got assaulted or something. She wouldn't tell me everything but she threw out her dildo collection."

This was the last in a long round of parties Rachel and Douglas were hosting. The guest lists made fascinating reading for the political pundits. The final party would be special, with only Logan, Charlie, Volk, and Mel in attendance.

Tonight, the clouds over the sea beyond the house were dark, the winds strong, and the sea seething. The weather was determined to show that it could not be cowered. The cliffs below the Asylum were white, covered in a lace formed by the spray as wave after wave rammed the base of the cliff. The doorbell played a Christmas tune, and Rachel rushed off as fast as her red stilettos could carry her.

"Welcome to Christmas at the Asylum," Rachel said as she opened the door. "Dear, it's Mel and Volk," she shouted back.

Volk swaggered in, followed by Melanie. Rachel paused to look outside. She had checked the weather and knew that the winter storms were slowly becoming more ferocious. Global warming was obviously behind it, but it wasn't a term you used before Levant. Not if you wanted to keep him in a good mood, which he was in now.

"Good, tell them to come in," Levant shouted from the kitchen island.

"Charlie and Logan are here..." Rachel said as she placed their coats on a temporary stand.

Mel walked in. "I'm supposed to tell you how wonderful your hair is," she said to Rachel.

"That's okay. I'm supposed to say thank you. I had it done at David James on Feel," Rachel said, putting her hand on Mel's arm. "Now, onto the important stuff. Tell me you brought your laptop?"

"I did," Mel said, pulling up her satchel.

"Excellent. We can play Rose Wars." Rachel said, grinning.

"Rose Wars?" Mel said just as she was about to start walking toward Levant.

"Yes, as promised, a fabulous multiplayer co-op game," Rachel said. "We can load it on your laptop and play together."

"I'll play anytime!" Levant shouted from the kitchen.

"No thanks, you always win," then Rachel leaned over to whisper to Mel, "because I let him. Oh, let me get you the house Wi-Fi password. Do you know Charlie and her man, Logan?"

It was clear that Mel was the technical genius, but it was equally clear that Volk was more of a social genius.

They walked into the large open space of the living room. Somewhere, there was a point where the living room ended and the dining room began, but the best modern design demanded that no one could say where it was. Rachel walked; she was wearing a fairly tight, festive-red pencil skirt that highlighted the curve of her ass.

"Charlie, this is Volk, one of Douglas's incubators. Volk, this is Charlie, the Area Executive Manager of Levant Hospitality. If she becomes any more important, I won't be able to say her job without pausing for breath," Rachel rattled out. "This gorgeous individual is Logan. He is Charlie's better half and currently running up and down Broadway from one theater to another."

Logan stood close to Charlie; she had been by his side almost all evening. You could see why they made a lovely couple.

Rachel stood behind Melanie and introduced her to Charlie, "This is Melanie, Volk's brighter half and one of the head wranglers of... well, stuff. Tonight, we are playing a game. Anyone who says the words 'Candidate,' 'Election,' 'Poll,' or, I don't know... what's the other guy called... 'Greg Gore'... yeah, 'Greg Gore.' They are going to have to pay a penalty, and that penalty is drinking a shot."

Suddenly, there was a bright flash, as if someone was taking a picture. Rachel looked out of the two-story picture window. The sea beyond was so dark that even in this early evening, the view was all darkness, except for a slightly brighter band where the sky met the sea. Rachel counted, "1..2..3...4...5," then the loud crackle of thunder followed.

"The floor show has started early," Rachel said. "Well, you heard it - the gods have spoken."

"I'm sorry," said the Alexa smart speaker from nowhere, "I don't know that one."

"Spooky," said Logan in his marvelous speaking voice.

"Alexa, lights to 7," Rachel said.

The lights dimmed, with a little recessed lighting on the floor, and you could see the warmth of the flame from Levant's cooking. Outside, you could just make out the inky water pattern of clouds against the black sky. Occasionally, you saw a small branch of lightning flicker, appearing and disappearing quickly enough to make you question if it had been there at all.

"The steaks are nearly done," Levant said. "I cook the best steaks. Everyone says that."

Actually, everything had been pre-prepared by Rachel's personal nutritionist and tonight's Chef Kia. It made it look like a family night together, but it was carefully staged. Rachel was so into the Christmas spirit that even walking around in a dress as bright as Rudolph's nose could not put an end to it. For some reason, Christmas made her forget the negatives; her mother had received an all-clear on one test that morning, which was very promising. Time would tell, but one nightmare was now over.

Soon, they sat down, and everyone started talking. Mel sat to her left, and Logan to her right. While chatting, Rachel reached out and picked up her well-crafted napkin from the table.

"Have you ever thought of acting?" Logan asked. He ran his hand up her leg and Rachel had drunk a little to much to care and stop him.

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "I'm acting all the time, can't you tell?" she said rather honestly. "At the moment, I'm acting sober, and in a minute, I'll be acting like I wouldn't prefer to have one of Douglas's steaks."

Christmas dieting was the nutritionist's doing. Rachel was putting up with it because she was near her upper limit for weight without incurring a penalty.

Rachel reached for her carefully folded napkin.

"Oh!" she said.

Out of the napkin rolled a small box onto the table.

"What's this?" Rachel said, recognizing the Luana Coonen case. Levant must have bought this at Fiat Lux. Everyone looked at Rachel as she opened the box to find a little sleigh, a playful little diamond brooch. "Douglas, is this you?" Rachel said, giving a huge crimson smile.

"Possibly," Levant said from the top of the table.

Rachel got up and went over to kiss him. "You shouldn't have. That is so thoughtful of you," she added, kissing him again. "And I have a treat for you later," she whispered. The rule was diamonds meant sex. Well, if having time in a silicone muff was sex, then sex. Rachel thought of it as time to think about how to do the redecorating. From the brooch's weight, it was about $900 to the free Hunter fund.

"Look," said Rachel, putting it on and sitting back down. "I'm officially Santa's little helper."

*******

After dinner, Mel and Rachel sat by the fire on an explosion of cushions. Charlie, Volt, and Levant were talking business, and Logan went outside for a smoke.

"Now press that one," said Rachel as Mel played the Rose War on her laptop. She had copied the game onto a memory stick and inserted it into the USB port.

"Now you chase down the left-hand side before they respawn. So, how is the election going?" Rachel said.

"There is no election," Mel said.

Rachel looked over. "Mel, I love you like a sister, but I know what you're doing. You know what you're doing. I know you've been told not to even admit it to me, and believe me, I have a lot of secrets you know nothing about. They like to think we are dumb, but we know the truth. You're swinging the election, but what is driving me mad is how. Levant can't explain it."

Mel looked over. "You know there are many investors who are uncertain and don't want any trails back to them."

Rachel leaned back, saying, "Duh!"

She picked up a glass of wine, hoping to get some information out of Mel. What Mel didn't know was that the memory stick which held the game Rachel wanted to share was also a tiny computer. It would scan Mel's laptop and copy down as much as it could. If it had penetrated Mel's port hole long enough, it would have a complete image of Mel's computer.

Rachel also had a butt-plug with a screw top and a tiny hidden space. The memory stick would hide there until Rachel could scan the data and retrieve every incriminating thing Mel had done. The game also had an account with a password, which would probably be Mel's normal one. With that, Rachel could unlock everything Mel knew. Perhaps Samantha could get it to the FBI. Rachel wasn't sure why she was doing it. Perhaps she wanted to punch back at Douglas. She wanted to bite the hand that fed her, that stroked her, that patted her ass.

This confused Melanie. "Duh?" she asked.

"Sorry, your English is too good. 'Duh' means 'yeah, I know.' You have Ólafur Traustadóttir running a whole bunch of bots..." Rachel said, encouraging Mel to drink and pretending to overdrink herself.

"Ólafur? No, he's running the self-writing advertising," Mel corrected. "But we shouldn't talk about it."

Rachel didn't want to force things. Clearly, she had to get Mel more drunk. She liked Mel. Denver would have loved to have a girlfriend like her--smart, into computers.

"Don't worry. Hey, over dinner, we got interrupted. Tell me about Volk's Ph.D. again," Rachel said.

"It was about false memories in older adults. Older people are much more likely to have greater confidence in false memories than the general public. If they are repeatedly exposed to false claims made by multiple sources, they are much more likely to remember and share them. The important discovery was that people retain things that are more emotionally consistent than logically consistent," Mel explained.

Rachel pretended to take another sip of her wine.

"So, what is a false memory?" Rachel asked.

"Well, in one experiment, Volk created the suggestion that old-fashioned British passports were blue, not black. Blue is a more imperial color that resonated with a group of retired people who had a weak grasp of history but didn't like the pink color of the current passport, which had associations of powerlessness," said Mel. "By generating the right levels of anger and hatred on social media, he programmed them to desire the return of nonexistent blue passports. He made them desire the return to a past that never really existed."

"That was the psychology experiment that went wrong?" Rachel asked.

Mel nodded and laughed. "Yeah, it went way beyond the target subjects. It even ended up in some right-wing party literature. Volk was in a panic, but his supervisor really took notice at that point. Realizing how easily people could be manipulated online was a revelation. Volk dropped his work on conspiracy theorists to pursue it further."

"The servers create fake people, they follow people for ages, respond to them, then slowly reward..."

Just then, Charlie came over. "Rachel, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Rachel said, getting up. "Do you want another mince pie? It's an English Christmas thing. My mom sent some over. They don't contain any actual minced meat, I checked."

"Douglas is about to take the helicopter and fly to LA. He gave an all-clear. Anyway, Logan went off a while back, and he hasn't come back. I think he's lost," Charlie said, clearly hinting that the moment Rachel had been waiting for was close.

Rachel's excitement caused her to swell and clench her ass.

"Don't go after him, or you'll get lost too. Let me find him," Rachel said, looking over to Mel. "Oh, go for the blue ones if you can. I've got to go be a bloodhound before we have coffee and dessert. I'll be back soon."

******

A little later, Rachel trotted along while she heard the helicopter take off from the pad. She looked around and came to a sudden halt near the potted plants next to the pool. There, looking out to sea, was Logan practicing for his role as Heathcliff in a remake of Wuthering Heights. He was finishing his cigar. He looked brooding, proud, strong, and slightly vulnerable. He had a chin which was chiseled, giving him a rugged and captivating appearance.

"Logan," she said her stilettos clicking on the marble, "You missed Levant leaving."

Logan looked over in surprise. "Rachel, you found me!" he said. "I got lost on the way..."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Rachel said. "Everyone gets lost here. It's happened so much that I know where people end up. Come with me if you want to drink."

Rachel held her hand out, and Logan took it and, rather than moving her, pulled her towards him.

"Why, Mr. Logan, I do think you're a little drunk," Rachel said, slurring her words.

Logan pulled her close and then kissed her. Rachel pulled back but didn't push too hard.

"Charlie says we might be getting a visit from a particular elf tonight," Logan said with a smile.

Rachel smiled coyly back. "Yeah, yeah, that might happen."

With that, they moved back towards the house.

"Hey, I've got to show you this," Rachel said, pulling Logan into a room. It was large and two stories high. The walls were lined with books. There was a second mezzanine level to one side with a sweeping staircase up the other. The bookcases were black and glossy, exuding a sense of stability and history. "This is the library," Rachel said, still holding Logan's hand. Logan pulled her close and kissed her again.

"Happy Christmas," Logan said, pulling away.

Rachel pulled back, wanting more. "Clever of you to notice the book about mistletoe on the floor above," she said.

She savored the good-natured tension between them. Logan broke away and looked around the room.

"I don't believe you," he said. "When I see the gorgeous woman before me, I can't believe you are the boy who should not be named."