ALICE Ch 226

The night before the race, coverage focuses on speculation about Alice’s car troubles and McLaren’s terrible showing in the qualifier. No one is surprised to see Max in P1, and Sainz and Flores are no strangers to starting at the front. Bottas has been having a little resurgence which can be credited to Aston finally starting to take care of their car, although it doesn’t explain Alonso’s driving. No one has confirmation about whether he’s sick or not.

Commentators chatter away on the TV, which Lora is obliged to watch, but she’s having a little trouble focusing with Kylie in her bed. No, not in her bed. That phrasing is wrong.

Lora’s tucked in, propped up by loads of pillows under the covers with her tablet, computer, and both phones. Meanwhile, Kylie loafs obliviously on top of the covers. She lies on her belly facing the TV, but not watching it. She’s on her phone, looking at videos of puppies. She occasionally bursts into laughter, and never stops moving, whether it’s the slightest rocking of her body, kicking her feet, using one foot to absently rub the other calf… she never stops. Lora has heard that this sort of restlessness is a thing for very fit people. Kylie’s nothing if not fit, but that’s not news. She was this way even in school.

Around guys, Kylie is painfully self-conscious. Around Lora, nothing.

On her phone, a confused puppy struggles to navigate some sofa cushions. Kylie giggles and snorts.

The intrusive thoughts won’t stop, and they make no sense. Lora remembers what she saw of the Amazons starting to feel Kylie up in that hot tub. The rest is just her imagination, based on what Kylie said. She sees powerful, brown hands on Kylie’s smooth, extremely tan-lined body. Inexplicably, Lora keeps seeing a naked Kylie on her knees with one of those hands on the back of her head.

She can’t work, and that’s a problem because the outcome of tomorrow’s race is more dependent on her than usual. Pit timing will be everything. She has calculations to run and the most recent report from Colby.

Mouth dry, she risks lifting her eyes from her computer to Kylie.

The tee that Kylie wears has ridden up a little, exposing her green Lululemon knickers. There’s nothing particularly interesting about that, yet it still triggers a cascade of imagery brought on by Kylie’s shameless narrative.

Lora sees a thick cock sliding into the underwear, rubbing against Kylie’s bottom. She can see shiny white semen dripping and rolling across tan lines. She sees a thick finger between Kylie’s lips, and Kylie sucking on it.

Lora scowls and repositions for the hundredth time. Kylie hasn’t even noticed.

Lora can’t help but think in strategic terms. She can’t work like this, but she’s protected by a comforter, a sheet, and her flannel jammies. The comforter is fluffy; Kylie will never know.

Keeping a wary eye on Kylie, Lora discreetly slides one hand into her underwear.