Carla picked up her sweatpants and started to slip them on. Bert put his hand on hers. ‘We don’t need clothes, do we?’ he said. His suggestion f...scinated and excited Carla. ‘Ah…I guess not,’ she responded. Carrying their clothes, they climbed out of the van and went quickly through the breezeway that connected the garage to the house. Inside, they fell into each other’s arms, giggling like teenagers who’d just gotten away with a prank. ‘This is crazy, you know that?’ Carla said, kissing Bert on. A man with a camera appeared, this one a shifty looking blonde Germanic soul that spoke Dutch as well, she was by now pleading in Dutch for mercy that was obvious, but they ignored her for a while, then gave leather man, gave her a backhanded slap to silence her, which it did, very effectively. She lay quietly crying on the straw floor, waiting for the men to do whatever they were going to, too her, or with her. Even micky looked uncomfortable, though whether it was for the girl, or his being. More

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