Immediately, all the girls began taking off their clothes, folding them and putting them beside their white bags. I stared in disbelief; my hesitation was noted by Vladimir, who started to signal one of the gophers. I quickly started taking my clothes off and folding them as well—assuming whatever the goon was going to do to me would be worse.
More shouted instructions in Italian and items were being removed from bags—white t-shirt, white draw-string shorts, 1 towel, 1 wash cloth, toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, a bar of soap, a pen, and a comb.
The girl next to me used the pen to write her name on the empty bag and then filled the bag with the clothes she had worn there. I noticed others doing the same, so again I did what they did and went to reach for the t-shirt and shorts before me, once my own clothes were in the bag. The girl next to me pushed my hand away and nodded to the front of the pavilion where Vladimir stood—waiting and watching. Freaktard. I dropped my hands back to my sides, still naked.
Vladimir snapped more directions and watched as white shirts and shorts were happily and quickly put on. He walked up and down the rows of women—stopping and having some of them spin around in front of him and then directing them back to the bus, while completely ignoring others. Vladimir walked past me without as much as a glance. I felt relief. Before long, half a dozen pretty girls sat happily back on the bus we had arrived on—leaving their old clothes bagged behind and taking only their toiletries with them. Others were singled out and pointed in the direction of the housing, group by group, again leaving their personal clothing behind and taking only what had been given them upon arrival. At the end, six of us remained, were sneered at in Italian, and dismissed.
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