‘Yes…’ ‘Rebecca, my dear,’ came the voice. The Dutch accent was unmistakeable. ‘How are you?’ ‘I’m… good… Guus…’ she softly ...nswered, drawing the sheet to her neck, as if he’d be able to see her uncovered breasts otherwise. She realised with a start that her nipples were pushing hard against the thin cotton. Surely not simply as a result of hearing his voice? ‘Pleased to hear it,’ the heavily accented voice murmured. ‘I heard about yesterday’s opening. And I caught the piece on television. It. It was as if she was drunk on his presence. She must focus on what he is saying. Firmly, he explained his expectations and his rules. She would be nude all week unless they need to go out. She would say, "Yes, Sir." She would do as told and do nothing without permission. Her knees buckled at the thoughts and her desires and she found herself leaning on the wall for support as he just stood and watched. He offered no assistance, no words of encouragement, not even a sign of compasion. He walked. More

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