The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 33

They descended some steep, worn wooden steps to a cellar covered in records covers. Between shelves of records, there were booths resembling cloth lined shower stalls, but made from double-glazed doors. As they walked past, they could hear the thud of music in another booth.

"Peyton recommended it," Sam said, opening the door. "It's a drop needle booth."

There was enough space for them to stand up, and a couple of fold-down seats were on either side of the door. The glass was frosted, so no one could see inside. As they entered, the first record began playing.

"You can listen to it before buying, right?" Samantha said over the dance track that was now starting. Samantha started nodding and swaying her hips to the music. Rachel joined in, and the chemistry between them in the booth became evident.

"We should definitely hit a few more clubs again," Rachel said, synchronizing her movements to the music and Samantha's moves.

"Show me," Samantha said, still moving in time.

"Show me what?" Rachel asked.

"Show me what forty thousand dollars and two weeks in England buys you," Samantha said, looking down at Rachel.

Rachel smirked. They were safe down here, far away from lurking eyes.

"Here?" Rachel said, intentionally making her reticence sound as thin as tissue.

Samantha moved forward and began kissing Rachel. Rachel returned the kiss, affirming their deep bond. Hands wrapped around waists, then backs, then heads. The intro over the music became louder more repetitive more intense. It was a long track the kind which drew the crowds lifted their tired flesh to the intense beat it drilled out. Soon all thoughts of leaving either face un-mussed was abandoned in the moment. Samantha pulled Rachel's jacket off then began to lift Rachel's top. Undoing her bra Rachel's new larger breasts hung down. They still felt tender from the operation, the pain medication was wearing off. Pulling a folding seat down, Samantha perched on the edge while Rachel stood. Samantha was able to push her tongue on Rachel's exposed flesh.

Samantha might look like an angel but was quite butch when it came to playing with Rachel's flesh. Rachel's skin shivered like the hiss of the high hats in the techno beat. Samantha's mind cursed herself for not bringing some hardware with her, she would have to improvise with what she had. Rachel's nipples screamed at Samantha's attention. Their fragile condition echoed with each smack and place of Samantha's hot blood red lips. Samantha soared like a diva's vocal over Rachel's stomach, making her wet with inhuman anticipation.

"Every night, every day, every inch of my flesh screams out for yours," Samantha said.

This was the perfect mirror of Rachel's feelings. Rachel felt quite undone by the words.

Having received the first assault, Rachel began to reciprocate in mind. Breathing dialled up to match the techno-lust tempo. Above them the DJ slid between tracks, not missing a beat. This was a techno remix of 'Can you feel the passion' by Blue Perl. The bass flooded through them, it was like they were in a cage at a huge rave. The clock was not on their side but their passion for each other was so hot it could stop time.

Rachel found herself sharing tongues with Samantha and then reciprocated on Samantha's chest. They pulled each other's short skirts up, Samantha put her finger reflexively to Rachel's synthetic muff. If her finger felt the dripping of Rachel's clit. The music switched to the shop DJ's suggestion of an updated version of 'What time is Love' by the KLF. Rachel trimmed her fingernails for this exact eventuality. She began to run her fingers' over Samantha's thighs and into Samantha's hot, hungry pussy.

The music shifted to a hot Emily Stonefield track. Samantha's finger abandoned Rachel's dead silicon reproduction and found Rachel's real rear hole. They penetrated each other and began to throb and grind on each other's offerings. Rachel explored Samantha's wet flesh and found herself so in possession of it that she wondered what it would be like to have the same. Perhaps it was the overload of empathy, that fact that they shared one perfect moment together, but Rachel found herself cuming. She carried on, and she began to feel the Earthquake as Samantha started to share her shuddering sunrise. The music shot into a long euphoric, anthem, screaming vocals lifted the listener's heart high into the sky.

Minutes later, Rachel came out of the booth jumping on her stiletto shoes.

"Yeah! Yeah!" She shouted with abandon to the empty cellar. "I'm so buying that track. It's mine. It's so totally mine!"

Samantha had pulled her skirt down, sat on the jump seat in the booth and legs wide and provocatively open looked up with guilty satisfaction. She caught her breath and looked at Rachel's boundless energy. She felt how Rachel looked.

"You better find a mirror," Samantha said pointing to Rachel's face, her chest heaving, "You so better find a mirror."

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Hunter in hospital.

Later the next day, Rachel entered the sterile hospital room, where the faint smell of antiseptic filled the air. Soft rays of sunlight filtered through the partially drawn curtains, casting a gentle glow upon the scene. Tubes and monitors surrounded the motionless figure lying in the bed, their rhythmic beeping providing a constant reminder of the fragile state of life within these walls.

Hunter, Rachel's dear friend, lay motionless, lost in the depths of a coma. His features, usually vibrant and full of life, now appeared serene yet unnervingly still.

"Good morning, Hunter," Rachel said in a bright voice as she settled onto the chair next to his bed.

Rachel was dressed in black tights, thick enough to be leggings, paired with a beige jacket adorned with large buttons. She carried a large black Prada bag, exuding an air of sophistication and practicality. Her makeup, meticulously applied and vibrant, added a touch of glamour to her appearance. She had spent an ample amount of time perfecting every detail, determined to make her presence known.

The nurse, also in the room, glanced around, taking note of Rachel's arrival. It was just another one of Rachel's regular visits, a routine she had established for those who lacked regular family. Hunter was always the last on her list, and perhaps the one with whom she spent the most time.

"Thanks," Rachel said, glancing back as the nurse nodded and left the room.

Taking a seat next to the frozen figure of Hunter, Rachel initiated a one-sided conversation. "So, how have you been?" she inquired, her words directed towards the unresponsive form. The only response came in the form of a squeak from the breathing machine.

"Really, that busy? You look like you've lost weight, it looks good," Rachel remarked, her gaze lingering on his gaunt yet still handsome face. With a sigh, she retrieved her phone and began playing some music, filling the room with a soft melody. It was a chill out mix of the Stonefield track she had bought the record of yesterday.

"I'm sorry I haven't been visiting," she confessed, her voice carrying a tinge of regret. "He's been on more campaign tours, and sometimes I'm brought along to give the illusion of family life. If only they knew the truth. I'm scared, you know? It only takes one of his opponents to take him seriously, and boom, I'm exposed as a fraud. Thankfully, he's still flying under the radar. Between you and me, I thought giving him the 'girlfriend experience' would eventually bore him, but that's clearly not working. And now, he's talking about got a new apartment for my family. I'm not sure how I feel about that," she confided, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Rachel paused, allowing her words to hang in the air for a moment before acknowledging, "Yeah, you're right." She let out a sigh, aware of the complexity of the situation and the challenges she faced.

Rachel continued to weave her web of deception, sharing her secrets with Hunter, even in his unresponsive state. Deep down, she wondered if one day he would wake up, if his memory would resurface and unravel the truth. She had convinced herself that the nurses could hear her words, bound by their duty to respect the privacy of the patient's family. The mere mention of having a secret was intended to entice any lurking detectives to delve deeper, to unravel the enigma that surrounded her.

Pausing for a moment, Rachel collected her thoughts before responding to her own imagined question. "Thanks, thank you for asking," she expressed, her voice filled with gratitude. "It is a new look indeed. I was browsing through a bunch of magazines--well, I must admit, I was looking because I was in them--but anyway, I noticed too many actresses sporting the same hairstyle as mine. So, I decided it was time for a change. I've been going through my wardrobe, getting rid of things. And, as luck would have it, a fashion charity approached me. I donated some of my stuff. Samantha thought it would be a good opportunity to embrace some change.

At first, I was scared, so I tried to accentuate my femininity as much as possible. But now, I feel more comfortable exploring new styles.

"What?" Her voice trailed off momentarily as she attentively listened for any sign of response.

"Yeah, he's fine," she continued, her voice assuring an invisible interlocutor. "I spoke to him just twenty minutes ago. He seems to be in good spirits. He's on a complex regimen of tablets, though. I'm not sure how we're going to afford them after... you know." Another pause followed, as Rachel allowed the weight of her unspoken words to hang in the air. "Yeah, Mom is doing well," she added, her voice carrying a note of reassurance. "She doesn't come here, but she's in a more specialized place. Things are gradually improving. Problem is you have to wait months to get the all clear."

In the solitary confines of the hospital room, Rachel's fabricated conversations with Hunter wove a tangled web of truth and fiction, a delicate dance between secrets and confessions, all in the hope of maintaining the illusion she had so meticulously constructed.

"I was talking with Mel," Rachel began, her voice filled with a sense of intrigue, "they've shared some interesting updates. They've discovered additional servers, enough to accommodate a staggering 331 million people, if you catch my drift. These servers are spread all over the world, from Russia and China to Indonesia. It seems that soon, no one's social media will be safe from their reach. Mel is fully engrossed in their endeavors, she like a child blowing bubbles if you get me. According to Mel, they've already reached version nine of the zeitgeist software. It's an incredibly sophisticated system that utilizes psychological matching to identify and exploit individual emotional weaknesses. It's as if they have a keen sense for capturing the essence of the sad, the lonely, the angry, and the dispossessed. Hang on, that sounds like a description of America itself."

Rachel took a brief pause, allowing the weight of her words to settle in the air before continuing, "The peculiar thing is that Mel can't fully control it. They can surf the waves of conspiracy theories, but starting one themselves proves to be more elusive. For instance, they can amplify the voices of those who question the moon landing, but they can't start a rumor that the entire Gagarin first launch was hoax. You know what I find truly amusing?" Rachel paused again, building anticipation for her forthcoming revelation.

"No more than the Three Stooges," Rachel replied, her voice filled with a hint of sarcasm. "We fret over research into AI or nuclear physics to build a super bomb, but why doesn't anyone express concern about delving into the realm of psychology? I mean, which would you rather control, a nuclear bomb or to control the minds of those who have access to it?"

Rachel paused, allowing her words to sink in before continuing, "Yeah, my thoughts exactly. In reality, research into psychology has the potential to be far more dangerous, right? It should be regulated, in my opinion. I guess I've just clocked that."

Rachel shifted gears, redirecting the conversation. "Sorry, on the subject of social media, I just hit a million followers on Instagram with my new dress photos. People are absolutely loving the new look. Additionally, my new poetry series, 'Random Acts of Mindless Virulence,' is coming out soon."

Rachel paused, realizing that she had been excessively self-centered in their conversation. It was time to shift the focus onto Hunter and inquire about his own experiences.

"So, tell me," Rachel began, her tone sincere and interested. "How did you meet your first wife? I mean, I assume you've only had one, right?" She leaned back in her chair, nodding and smiling encouragingly.

"That's so sweet," Rachel remarked, her voice filled with warmth. "Meeting at graduate school has a certain romantic charm to it, like high school sweethearts. It's a beautiful story." She paused briefly, collecting her thoughts before continuing. "No, I don't believe women would be put off by that. As for me... well, it's quite personal. But I suppose we know each other well enough to share. Um, I've had around four... or maybe four and a half relationships, if you even count the shorter ones. It's a long story, really."

"Five if you include blow jobs.. well it's not really sex it is? Okay, so I've had around four to six relationships, depending on... well, you know," Rachel began, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. "And if we count encounters with machinery, then it's seven. But let's not go into the details of that." She let out a soft chuckle before continuing.

Leaning closer, Rachel's gaze lingered on Hunter's chiseled features, an undeniable attraction present in her eyes. She paused, momentarily lost in her thoughts, before regaining her composure.

"Right!" she exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically. "You know what? You should definitely set up a profile on one of those dating apps. I'll be more than happy to help you with it." Rachel reached for her phone, ready to assist Hunter in this endeavor.

"So, what kind of woman are you looking for?" Rachel inquired, her attention shifting between Hunter and her phone. She shrugged, acknowledging the open-ended nature of the question. "Someone who's good in heels, with a beach-ready body, or does that not matter to you?" She noted down his silent response, a sense of curiosity and eagerness evident in her actions.

"No, I don't think you're shallow," Rachel reassured Hunter, her voice filled with sincerity. "I mean, to quote Cher, I'm really fussy about shoes, and they only go on my feet. You have to stay true to yourself." She glanced down at her own shoes, a pair of four and a half-inch stilettos, and chuckled. "So, she's got to be able to walk in four and a half-inch stilettos. Good to know."

Rachel shifted her attention back to her phone, contemplating the next aspect of Hunter's ideal partner. "Okay, does the woman you're looking for have to be college-educated?" she asked, seeking clarification. She nodded as she processed his response. "Alright, so she doesn't have to be college-educated, but she should be smart. That sounds fair. Not necessarily a Susie Homemaker type, but also doesn't need to have a Ph.D. Good."

Rachel pretended to jot down notes, her expression reflecting a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "This is an interesting one," she remarked, feigning surprise. "Would you date a woman with a dark and mysterious past? I'm not sure why they're asking that, maybe to filter out time-wasters, I suppose." She shook her head slightly, as if contemplating the peculiarities of dating app questions.

Her eyes scanned the screen once again, and a mischievous smile spread across her face. "Ah, here's a spicy one," Rachel continued. "Would you date a man? Well, I thought not, but hey, it's worth checking, right?" She chuckled lightly, her playful tone resonating in the room. "As for me... well, that's a good question. Honestly, I think I would give it a try. Kissing a man, that is... well, that was the question" Rachel's grin widened, hinting at a willingness to explore beyond the boundaries of her previous experiences.

"Now I'm supposed to get a photo," Rachel said, holding up her phone. "Why not now? Well, hate to say it, but in the state you're in now, you'd only attract every woman who's read Twilight. You've got that whole undead vampire vibe going on. I mean, there would be a long line of goths lining up for you... Oh, really? I'll put you down as goth-curious. I wouldn't have guessed. I guess that answers the question: would you date a woman with a better music collection than you?"

Rachel paused, considering Hunter's response. She continued, her voice thoughtful. "Have I read Twilight? Well, yeah, obviously. But you know, is it actually a book? I mean, is it? The main character has no agency. She makes no decisions throughout the book. This might be a technicality, but the main character typically drives the plot forward and is the primary focus of the story's events and conflicts. Except she doesn't drive the plot forward. She has zero agency. I mean, someone stringing out the decision between two men into that many books should be called the procrastination series."

Rachel made a note in her pretend conversation, her fingers lightly tapping on the screen. "Well, I was thinking I might try that. Halloween is going to come sooner or later, is it? I thought I would give a goth look a try. No specific reason," she said with a casual shrug before leaning back in her chair.

Curiosity still gleamed in Rachel's eyes as she continued her playful inquiry. "So, any other qualities in your ideal woman?" she asked, addressing the silent Hunter. As she listened to his imaginary responses, her expressions ranged from nods of understanding to thoughtful hums. "Hmm... uh-huh... yeah... mmm... got it," she replied, acknowledging his input.

Rachel's brow furrowed momentarily "heteronormativity? Oh, right... sorry, Hegemonic masculinity... is that some kind of heavy metal band?" she quipped, her voice tinged with amusement. "Okay, yeah, I think I get you... What about bra size? Flat-chested or buxom? Be honest," she inquired, her gaze subtly shifting towards her own chest. "These... well, these are technically D's. So, your ideal woman has D-sized breasts... Just noticing something," she trailed off, her tone filled with curiosity and a touch of self-awareness."no just kind of noticing something... blonde hair too... like mine."

Just then, the nurse came back in.

"Visiting time will be over soon, Miss Price." The nurse said.

Rachel looked over to Hunter, "Yeah, your right she is jealous." Rachel said, getting up, "I won't see you next week. A certain poet has a book launch. I'll tell you how it goes later. See ya."

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Book launch

The book launch took place at the iconic City Lights Booksellers, nestled on Columbus Avenue. The bookstore stood proudly, adorned in a captivating shade of pink that accentuated its vibrant personality. As Rachel entered the premises, she couldn't help but marvel at the immense literary history that echoed within its walls.

The atmosphere at the book opening was electric. Rachel stood confidently before the eager audience, her voice resonating with passion and emotion as she delivered a captivating reading of her work. To her delight, the crowd that had gathered exceeded her expectations--a sea of faces eagerly hanging onto her every word.

Surrounded by towering bookshelves filled with literary treasures, Rachel felt a profound sense of accomplishment. The air was thick with excitement as book enthusiasts and literary aficionados mingled and engaged in spirited conversations about the written word. The event had become a celebration of creativity, intellect, and the power of storytelling.