ALICE Ch 166

Erica Bruhl stands grumpily in the shower, gazing into the steam without seeing much. She has to wonder if Valeria Flores has done this on purpose. She almost certainly hasn’t, but she couldn’t have done a better job. It’s not enough for her to be delicate, beautiful, and a brilliant driver. She has to add these teasing Diorgasm photoshoots and play hard to get.

But she isn’t playing. That drives Erica absolutely crazy.

Erica comes to her senses and starts to wash her body, handling her penis with care. One wrong thought and she’ll have a stubborn erection and be beating off in the shower, which her pride will not allow. It’s the night before Qualifiers, and it’s the first time in memory that she’s going to be spending it alone. She’s just been so bothered about the thing with Val that she hasn’t been very… sociable.

It’s time to change that. She’s annoyed with herself.

It’s late, and what she’s going to do isn’t classy, but anything is better than moping. She puts on shorts and a snug top with no bra and heads out with her damp hair loose and no makeup.

The hotel bar is far from empty. Erica hasn’t really decided on a course of action. She’s not above hooking up with an attractive waitress or bartender, although that’s not her first choice. The traveling circus that is F1 is small. Everyone knows everyone, and secrets don’t stay secret for long. The thing between Alice and Faye is a good example of that, although no one had expected anything until Faye opened her mouth.

But really? Erica wants a drink and someone to talk to. Sex isn’t even what she’s after. Traveling all the time, even when everyone knows everyone, can be lonely.

She sees a camera operator, some pit crew people, and plenty of passingly familiar faces. A-listers don’t usually show up at the hotel bar, but there’s Matt Berry at a table with Toto. Toto’s laughing; you don’t see that very often, but if anyone can do it, it’s Matt. Erica is annoyed; she’s bold and shameless, but not so bold and shameless that she’ll crash whatever they’re doing.

Her eyes fall on an unfamiliar silhouette. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s looking at Glynda Darcy. She’s at the bar, hunched intently. She wears leggings and a sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up. It looks odd because it’s the first time Erica has seen her without FUTA-branded clothes on and her hair down.

She’s alone, and that makes some sense. Glynda Darcy isn’t the most approachable person in the first place, and it’s Friday night. No one with any sense would bother a Team Principal just before qualifiers.