The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 02

Chapter 2 - Out of the Sea on a Shell Carried by Mermaids

Denver stood outside the Thornbury Hotel almost a week later. It looked impressive; a mixture of modernity and classic Roman columns. There was gold everywhere, making it look very upscale. There was a fountain around which the cars arrived. A golden dolphin spewed water the way his stomach wanted to. Denver's knees and hands were shaking.

The week had been full of ups and downs; that dreadful moment when Denver realized he didn't have Charlie's number, the high when she had sent her first text, the low when they made a date for his 'rehearsal' felt like a pit of vipers in his stomach. The texts over the next few days were strange; she seemed very into him, putting kisses at the end of her messages. At random points, she would ask for his measurements, including height, hips, and shoe size, making her texts seem more like transactions. The deal got more complex; he would get $200 for this dress rehearsal, another $500 and a PlayStation for the meeting with her CEO.

Denver felt overwhelmed by the opulence of the hotel. The front part of the building was old. It had an atrium with two broad symmetrical staircases winding their way to the first and second floors. A grandeur to it made one imagine Antebellum ladies sweeping down in huge dresses, where bands would play, fans flutter, and women swooned. Now, it was open-air cafés where tables stood in their place.

The nineteen-thirties art deco iron and glass roof over the atrium spoke of continued inhabitation. The old hotel had been bought in the last ten years, and the adjacent building was knocked down. An extension, at least 40 stories tall, was constructed. The hotel now served as a historic facade to the modern sleeping complex. The tower stood to the side, high above it, like a current-day basketball player over a dowager princess.

Standing near the entrance, Denver felt dumb. This seemed too complicated to be a trick, and who would do it on him? There had been moments when he thought it might be for some sick YouTube channel. He decided if that happened, he would bluff it out. He would say he wasn't a transphobe and his family needed the money-- which it did. The last message he received was the time and address, along with instructions to go to the Front Desk and ask for Miss Bechtel's suite.

Feeling decidedly underdressed in the first-class hotel, Denver approached the desk. He held his bag like he was delivering something for Charlie. He guessed where to go but still looked at his phone as he approached the older man behind the counter. To the side of the grand staircase was a reception area. While this was his first time in a place like this, Denver guessed what to do.

"Welcome to Hotel Thornbury. I'm Hector. How may I facilitate a pleasant stay with us?" Hector asked. He said it with speed borne of repetition but a tone suggesting sincerity. Hector looked to be in his forties with a bald dome, and meticulously trimmed sides that were a reminder of the black hair he once had. He had a large Romanesque nose situated below a lined forehead, giving him an air of dignity and respect. His uniform was neat and matched the rest of the hotel's decor.

"I'm looking for, errr, Miss Bechtel. Her suite?" Denver said from under his hood. He mispronounced 'suite' as 'suit.'

Hector smiled. "Mr. Jones, correct?" Miss Bechtel said you were expected. Room 1414. The elevators are behind you and to the left or right."

"Thanks," Denver said, his heart pounding. Every fiber in him, every brain cell, was screaming run!

The bars and restaurants were open. Some men stood chatting and drinking in dinner jackets, but they looked too old to go to a prom. Everyone seemed very well-dressed. 'Even an Uber Eats delivery driver would be better dressed than me,' Denver thought.

Denver strode over to the lift and, head down, walked in. There were a lot of buttons, and Floor 14 was not even halfway near the top. He pressed the button and prayed they shut quickly before anyone else got in. The elevator was glass and climbed up the internal atrium of the building, then crawled up outside. As it ascended, his ears popped, and soon Denver was looking down on the tiny people below. The lift slowed then stopped. The doors opened, and Denver stood still; this was stupid. It was a trap. He shouldn't be here.

Denver pressed Floor 14. If he went back down, staff might think he was playing in the elevator and have him removed from the premises. After pressing the button for 14, nothing happened. Denver paused. Someone approached the elevator doors, and Denver shot out, nearly hitting the other man as he left.

Not looking behind, Denver walked down the thick carpet-covered corridor. He followed the numbers 1403 and 1405, then, reaching the end, went in the opposite direction. Most doors had 'Do Not Disturb' signs; Suite 1414 didn't.

****

Denver stood for a moment, frozen. Spotting a doorbell, he pressed it, and Charlie opened the door. She was dressed casually in jeans, with no make-up and her hair looked like she had been working all day. She looked different than he had last seen her.

"Denver, right?" Charlie asked, smiling and opened the door wider. "Great! Come in."

Denver walked into a large room with a sofa. There were two doorways on each side leading to separate bedrooms. Everything was made of marble. To his left, Denver saw a large rack of clothes all carefully protected in clear plastic to keep them clean. There was a chair in front of a mirror with a bright light around it.

Next to the mirror was a small woman in her forties, with skin the color of rich, dark chocolate and hair that flowed in a cascade of glossy curls down her back. She had a warm and friendly demeanor and seemed to radiate a sense of calm and comfort.

"Rule Nine: know the team," Charlie began. "Denver, this is Beth. One of the best beauticians in The Thornbury. She has great skill with a brush. She's on hair and make-up. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Denver said, wondering if he should run. "Look, I'm not doing anything permanent; no ear piercings or anything, right?"

Charlie paused, then nodded. "Yeah, we can deal with that, right, Beth?"

"Relax. Do you want a drink or something?" Beth asked with an Eastern-type accent.

Beth was dark-skinned and thin. She must have been in her forties and been a fabulous beauty when she was younger. Her clothes looked more like a uniform and had a Thornbury badge near her shoulder.

Denver said, "Sure. Coke. What's rule nine?"

Charlie smiled. "Levant has distilled his knowledge into 74 rules. Nine, know the team. Rule four, the customer is always right. Rule twelve, a clean kitchen is an inspectable kitchen."

Both women took a moment to look at Denver. "What do you think?" Charlie asked.

Beth waved her hand. "A bit closer, dear." Denver moved forward and was held still under their tight scrutiny. Beth and Charlie moved like Denver was a painting. Beth nodded. "Yeah, I think I could do quite a lot with that. No tattoos to cover up. Right wig; we could be on to a winner."

Denver flushed bright red. "I've got a tattoo in the middle of my back," he confessed. It was the only wild or dangerous thing he had ever done, and it had taken him a year to get the courage to do it.

"Don't worry, I don't think it will be exposed," Beth said.

Charlie looked on. "I have some clothes in your size. Can you take your glasses and hoodie off? First, go in the shower and shave, and I mean shave everything: chest, legs, whole thing... it will grow back."

Beth gave Denver a drink with ice in a glass. It tasted like Coke but the worst he ever had, as if it was 50% industrial solvent, but he drank it anyway because he was so thirsty. Beth returned with another one, which tasted revolting, but he drank it too. Ten minutes later, Denver was standing in the shower wearing wet boxers as Beth shaved his back and legs.

"You've shaved between your legs, right?" Beth questioned. Denver was too embarrassed to say.

While Denver was drying in the shower, Charlie rummaged around in a bag. She produced a strapless bra, wrapped it around Denver's chest, and, standing behind him, fastened the clasp. Denver had calmed down from the anticipation but felt torn. Charlie was very clinical, like a doctor, but it was the most intimate thing to have happened to him.

"Levant likes his girls, as he says, 'All-American Busty,'" Charlie said, turning Denver around. She grabbed a couple of rubber things which looked like frozen coffee spills. She stuffed them in the pockets in the front of the bra. They felt cold and floppy to Denver, like a wet slug on his chest. Charlie looked again. "You could probably carry slightly larger padding. You're not talking much," she added, pulling them out and stuffing two larger ones in.

"No. No, I'm not. I don't do this too often," Denver said. The rough handling and scrutinizing stares freaked Denver out.

"I've never done this before either," Charlie added.

Beth came in with self-adhesive silicone bum and hip pads she stuck on Denver's skin, giving him more of an hourglass figure. "Wow, you have great legs!" Beth said, looking down. "We could use that as an advantage. I might start with leggings, but the boxers have to go."

Back turned, Denver removed them. He was worried, but his hand wasn't shaking as much when he wrapped a towel around his lower parts.

"Just to let you know, I'm really freaked out now," Denver said, his face now a bright shade of red. "This wasn't the Halloween experience I was thinking of."

Charlie smiled. "Look, it's okay to be freaked. If you weren't uncomfortable, then you wouldn't be qualified. The rules say I have to get a straight hetero boy and then do the makeover. As soon as you start enjoying this, you're disqualified. So everything is good. Relax, have another Coke."

Denver took a deep breath.

Charlie began, "I take it you haven't worn a gaff before?"

Denver smiled. "I don't even know what that is."

"Well, the bad news is I haven't worn one either," Charlie began, "and it's new for me too, so we'll have to figure it out."

Charlie had done detailed internet research on what men did and was now well-versed in tucking reproductive parts away. Over the next ten minutes, most of which was spent consulting an iPad and looking at videos on YouTube, Denver was introduced to the art of 'tucking,' as it was called. A cold towel and several strips of medical tape later, Denver had pulled on a stretchy and tight set of panties designed to keep his man part tucked between his legs. His balls were pushed up inside him. After the hip pads and the gaff, Denver struggled to pull the leggings on.

He stood before the mirror wearing a pair of wet-look leggings. There was a small arc between his legs; Denver found it weird to see his lower half in the mirror looking so feminine. Charlie admired his flat stomach. Denver didn't starve but would skip meals telling his Mom he ate with friends. It helped what food they could afford to go a little further.

"Wow! I didn't think leggings were an option. That's a surprise! Yeah, sexy; he might go for sexy." Charlie said. "Shame you're not meeting in the afternoon. A baggy jumper or something to tone it down would work. I would need to see it with some shoes on."

Beth found some small stiletto boots and got Denver to sit while she zipped them on. He got up and found he wasn't as unstable as he thought he should be in heels. Beth delivered another awful-tasting Coke, which Denver drank.

Charlie bit her thumb while she thought. "This is good. Could you lose about ten pounds before the dinner?" Charlie asked.

"Ten pounds in a week! Is that even possible?" Denver said.

"Mostly, it would just be eating Miso soup," Beth said.

"Welcome to being a woman." Charlie continued, acting like a sculptor with Denver as a chunk of granite. "If I said I would give you an extra two hundred if you drop that much by next week, could you do it?"

Denver shrugged. He tried to fold his arms, but the fake bra stopped him. Two hundred sounded like he hadn't asked for enough to begin with.

"I'm going to take that as a 'yes,'" Charlie said. "Let's try a dress."

Charlie flipped through the dresses on the rack like a DJ with records. Denver had to peel the leggings off. Charlie had Denver sit while she rolled up a pair of pale tights on each leg. She presented a short cocktail dress made out of silver sequins which Beth had to demonstrate how to put on. He went next door to change, and when he came back, Beth had a big grin on her face. He was wearing a halter top dress; the silver sequins hugged his padded form and extenuated the curve of his body with a pair of narrow-heeled shoes. The dress was very short and exposed a lot of leg. Denver had very skinny legs, but in this outfit, it suited him.

"This would work if he likes fish," Beth said.

"Or mermaids," Denver added.

Charlie looked at Beth. "Tights work; I wasn't expecting bare arms to look good, but he could get away with it. I think he wants you to look sexy but not so sexy you look like you charge by the hour. Jacket.."

Over the space of an hour, Denver tried about eight or nine dresses. Ultimately, they decided on the short cocktail dress they had started with.

"Okay, stand up, shoulders back. We can do this." Charlie added.

"Nice neck, actually nice skin. I know girls who would kill for skin like that," Beth commented to Charlie, looking at Denver's neck,

"Sit down for a minute."

Denver sat on what looked like a fake antique chair, and Charlie handed him a binder filled with sheets, the edges bristling with colored Post-It Notes.

"What's this?" Denver asked, feeling the weight of the binder.

"Rule 35: know your customer. You see, Levant isn't saying how he will score this. I think he will put it down to who he likes the most, so you need to know him to get him to like you. I want you to read through it."

"There will be a test later," Beth said jokingly. Beth worked on Denver's hair. Using clips and gel to flatten his natural unruly hair, Denver slightly sweated as Beth and Charlie tried different wigs. As they worked on him, he flicked through the folder. It wasn't as simple as he expected.

Charlie and Beth kept adjusting the wigs, combing and styling them, only to remove them again.

According to the file presented to Denver, Levant was 35 or so, the wealthy spoilt only son of a rich spoilt son. His dad had made most of the family billions. The money came predominantly from property, but he claimed it was both construction and 'hi-tech stuff.' Levant had two previous wives, kids with neither, and was currently single.

"Have you thought of a name?" Charlie asked.

"A name?" Denver said, disturbed from his reading.

"You know, Mandy... Clarissa... something!" Charlie said, straightening another wig.

"No. No, I haven't." Denver couldn't see what he looked like.

Charlie squinted and then shook her head. "That blonde one again," she said to Beth, pointing. The present wig was pulled off, and a new one came on.

"Any preferences?" Charlie said.

"No, not really," said Denver.

"Err, I'm thinking Sophie or Rachel. I don't know why," Charlie added, looking at Denver's head. "Pick one."

"Rachel," Denver said. It was a random choice.

Beth and Charlie took a while to agree on which wig they liked. When they finished, they settled on a blonde with bangs, the hair hanging down to Denver's neck. Beth started using more hairpins to fix the wig to Denver's compacted hair.

"Okay, Rachel," Beth said.

Charlie came over with a box of contact lenses. "I've got some disposables in your prescription. The one you texted," she said. Denver looked at them, knowing they were expensive and more than he could afford. "I have a couple of colors. Have you done contacts before?" Charlie inquired. Denver shook his head. "Okay, just put your head back."

Nervously, Denver looked up and tried not to blink when Charlie's finger came in. Denver worried about the contacts rolling up when he blinked and getting stuck in his eyeballs. He tried to concentrate on the money he would receive. They felt weird once they were in.

"Good. Lean back and close your eyes," Beth said. While Beth began working on Denver's face, Charlie took the ring binder and started talking.

"Okay, what is his favorite sport?" Charlie asked.

"Err, I didn't get to that bit," Denver said, lifting his head.

"Okay," Charlie said. "Favorite sport: golf. His handicap is abysmal, but he thinks he's a golf genius. He owns twelve golf courses. In fact, he thinks he is brilliant at everything."

"So what is Rachel like?" Beth asked.

"Like? in what way?" Denver asked curiously.

"I want to get her look right. Is she bubbly and outgoing or quiet and sexy? Open your eyes and look up," Beth added, poking a pencil in Denver's eye, pushing and pulling on Denver's face.

"Hi, I'm Rachel. My hobbies are horseback riding and bubble gum," Denver said in a high-pitched voice.

"Too high," both Beth and Charlie said in unison.

"Hi, I'm Lara. I'm an archeologist. I like hunting for ancient artifacts in my spare time. I like climbing and shooting people," Denver said in a high, slightly deeper voice but trying an English accent. He was mimicking Lara Croft from the games, not the movies.

"That's better; deeper, smooth is good." Charlie said, "He loves royalty. Try it without the English accent."

"Hi, I'm Lyra. I have a golden compass and a polar bear for a friend," Denver said in a more familiar American tone.

Charlie moved around. "Higher is better. Just avoid squeaking; let's try Lara's voice. You will have to keep it up for an hour, okay?"

"Good evening Mr. Levant. It so kind of you to invite me here tonight," Denver said, reverting to the English accent; it was higher-pitched than his normal voice.

"Rachel, what don't we talk to him about?" Charlie said.

"So, Mr. Levant, you look like more of an XBox than a Playstation guy," Denver said.

Beth interrupted. "Lips still," she said.

"Well, that too," Charlie said. "Don't mention his 'Burgers By Post' venture."

"Uur?" Denver said, trying not to move his lips.

"He invested money and did the ads for a company to get burgers over the internet. Pout slightly," Beth ordered.

"Don't mention global warming. He's big on climate denial. Politics is out," Charlie added. Her phone went off. "Keep going. I'll be back in five minutes."

Denver pulled the folder out to read and waited for Beth to do her work. Levant made his money in real estate. He liked running hotels but had put money into high-tech companies; some worked, and some didn't. Most of them didn't make sense to Denver; he had never heard of them. Charlie kept talking on the phone outside.

Levant had satellite launching companies, some internet ones. Charlie had scribbled notes against some startups "probably for the tax break." He had control of data analytics companies, shares in Facebook, AI self-driving cars and several 'clean coal' companies. Charlie popped her head around the door and put her hand over the phone. "Keep practicing talking and keep your knees together," she said, bobbing out of earshot.

"Yes, I've always been fascinated by art history," Denver continued using Rachel's voice. "I would love to learn more about your collection. I've heard you have some stunning pieces by Monet and Van Gogh. And I would be delighted to join you and the crown prince on Poseidon's Playground. I've always dreamed of sailing on a luxurious yacht like that. It sounds like such an incredible experience."

Denver kept talking nonsense and mentioning things from the file. Levant liked buying expensive art and only wanted it if it was old with many digits before the period after it. He went to many parties and clubs, wanting to be seen with the in-crowd.