‘I’d like to have sex with you. Now. Please. Now,’ Cat says, easing his shirt away and gazing desirously at his torso. She unbuckles his belt, her eyes drawn to and delighted by the bulge in his jeans, her fingers tracing the shape of him, her sex anticipating the feel of him.

‘I’d love to have sex with you,’ Ben says, his hand up the back of her dress, softly feeling her buttocks and tracing the crack down and under to her damp mound.

‘Now,’ Cat implores, leaning over his face and licking his lips, ‘I want to have sex with you now.’

‘I don’t have any condoms with me,’ says Ben, stroking her face and tracing her lips.

‘I don’t have any condoms with me,’ Cat bemoans. Then she smiles mischievously, eyes his insistent bulge and regards him with delight.

‘There are plenty of other ways I can think of,’ she says.

‘And,’ Ben reasons, unpopping his jeans, bucking his hips to wriggle free from boxer shorts too, ‘there’s tomorrow. Come to me when you’ve had Luca.’

‘Metaphorically speaking,’ Cat chides, walking her fingers tantalizingly up his shaft.

‘Come to me then,’ Ben murmurs, closing his eyes with the pleasure of Cat’s hand encircling his cock; gasping as he feels her lips at the tip of him, can sense them opening, anticipating her mouth taking him deep.

I want you to come in my mouth, Ben.

I’m coming, Cat. Jesus. Fuck.

STAGE 7
Computaparc - Individual Time Trial. 54.5 kilometres

‘Rachel – help.’

Vasily Jawlensky entered the Zucca camper van.

‘Oh dear,’ his soigneur said from behind an architecturally intriguing tower of energy bars. ‘Och Jesus – look at you!’

She looked at him. Vasily Jawlensky, her team’s key rider on whose shoulders the hope of the yellow jersey was today firmly placed. And yet, unlike the brooding Fabian Ducasse, currently barking and snarling at everyone, Vasily’s comportment was no different than if he was merely going out on a training ride. His tall body, on to which lycra had seemingly been sprayed, dominated the interior of the camper van. He regarded his soigneur steadily and shrugged at her almost apologetically. Rachel saw that his skinsuit was split from underarm to hip and was aware that his Time Trial start time was in half an hour. She helped peel her rider from the lycra and assisted him in slithering his way in to a pristine suit.

‘I go back to the blocks now,’ he said graciously, focusing so intently on her neck that Rachel found herself cupping her hand against it. ‘With thanks to you, Rachel.’

‘That’s good,’ his soigneur replied. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Tight,’ Vasily replied, ‘tense – you know?’

‘I can imagine,’ Rachel said. She stood in the doorway of the van and watched Vasily place himself on his stationary bike. He clipped his feet in and started to pedal, soon leaning down to take the handlebars. Rachel winced. The skinsuit had torn again, this time around the shoulders.