Subject: Story : Show your muscles, girls!

Message:

 (c) dikke_kannibaal@hotmail.com

 Show your muscles, girls!

 Risc Group : a group of 50 people who participate in a three year
 competition. The competition is made up of 'games' in which a
 participant has a certain chance to die. At the end of the
 competition, everybody has exactly had one chance out of 50 to
 survive, and there is only a single survivor. The winner receives
 freedom, 1 million dollars and a lifelong membership of the Final
 Betting Society (often called The Organisation), the organisation
 organising the competitions.

 The training had been long this time. Although Cathrinne was in a
 great shape when she entered the competition, and although she had
 been physically trained without compassion during the first year of
 her participation, the training of the last four months had
 significantly added muscles to her body. Exercices, food, workouts,
 everything has been oriented to create a body-builder's figure out
 of her already strong body. No artificial stimuli had been used, at
 least not that she was aware of. She remembered the power lifting,
 where heavy weights had to be pushed, pulled, electrical clamps
 attached to her body, to 'stimulate' her when she did not reach the
 target. The trainer, a professional woman of about fourty, had been
 friendly but merciless. She had whipped and tortured them to
 increase their efforts, without hating or despising them. To this
 woman, they were just machines, beings that must be coaxed into a
 training routine, and the means used to achieve this were pain,
 pain and pain. At any moment you had to chose between the pain of
 the exercise and the pain of the punishment for failing to achieve
 the goals, and the choice had been made easy by the harshness of
 the inflicted punishments.

 They were six to start the training as a group, but this didn't say
 anything about the final event. The Organisation always trained
 some 'spares' in case someone got injured or sick - the customers
 of the Organisation would never accept a broken leg as an excuse
 for a planned game, so spares were neded. Five of them were of
 rather similar build : strong woman in their twenties, muscular,
 but one of them was clearly an older woman. Cathrinne estimated her
 in her late thirties or early fourties, although it was difficult
 to say : the woman had a well cared for body, firm breasts, fine
 hands, all signs of a relative luxury in her previous life. She
 could be fourty-five as wel as thirty-five, but not much older.
 Cathrinne didn't know wether she liked this or not : a participant
 that was clearly different from the others could be good or bad.
 Good if the game was a fitness test, were endurance played a role,
 bad if the game was eg. a selection by older men, who would prefer
 to snuff a youngster. Whatever her opinion, she couldn't do
 anything about it, but train to be as similar to the others as
 possible. She had discovered already early that the best tactic to
 survival was to be as low profile as possible. It was no good being
 very beatifull or ugly or strong or having very big or very small
 breasts. The best thing to be was a number amidst numbers. And to
 be lucky of course.

 The last month an important part of the training had been
 synchronised motion, a kind of body-builder's dance : all six of
 them were placed on a small podium, with four televisions hidden in
 the floor. A video was played on which a woman was moving through
 several poses and movements, and they were trained to copy those
 movements as good as possible. It was a repeating tape : a single
 performance took about five minutes, and then the tape repeated.
 They trained on it for hours and hours : standing still, as a
 soldier, heels against each other, upright. Then slowly moving the
 hands along the body, from the legs, over the hips, then suddenly
 thrusting them upwards, grasping one hand with the other, moving it
 down towards the neck, suddenly pushing the elbows to the back,
 showing of the breast. Slowly bending through the knees, carefull,
 no tripping allowed. Placing the hands on the floor, the back still
 straight. Stretching the right leg in front of you, lifting the
 right arm and moving the leg to the back, in a rotating movement,
 tilting the back forwards. Touching the ground with the forehead,
 still heaving the right leg horizontally, a few inches from the
 ground, showing off the buttocks...

 If it hadn't been for the advanced training, Cathrinne would never
 have been able to complete the dance. All figures were destined at
 showing of a part of the body : legs, buttocks, belly, arms, every
 bodypart passed the revue, was stretched and muscled, shown and
 then the dance moved further to the next and so on.

 After one week of naked training some attributes were added : a
 very nice hat, a pair of stiletto shoes and a thong. Cathrinne
 liked the hat : it was a beautifull, very feminine design, large
 size, with some voile (?) attached to it. It made the movements
 more difficult : touching it meant it falled of your head, and a
 falling hat meant being zapped by the trainer. It didn't happen
 very often. The stiletto shoes caused the greatest disconfort as
 they made standing more difficult, especially during a figure
 Cathrinne called the 'pussy show' : standing upright on both feet,
 hands clasped together at the back, first lifting one leg, letting
 the foot slide aling the other leg like a flamingo, then rotating
 the lifted knee outwards until the plied knee was pointing to the
 side, halting for a few moments to show your pussy, then letting
 the foot slide down again, then repeating this with the other leg.
 It was hard no to trip. Cathrinne had always had a good sense of
 equilibrium, but not everybody was as lucky.

 When the food changed from the heavy, calory-rich meals they
 enjoyed to more frequent, lighter meals to empty their bowels, the
 women knew the game was near, and weren't surprised to find
 themselves being drugged, transported and to wake up in a new,
 smaller facility. They didn't know when the game was scheduled, but
 Cathrinne had experienced that it was always somewhere between two
 to five days after the transport, but this was difficult to check,
 as they had no knowledge about day and night. They were made to
 shave themselves carefully regularly - Cathrinne estimated twice a
 day - and the dance trainings were intensified, with as a new
 concept, that the tape was sometimes stopped, and that they had to
 remain motionless in the acquired position. Then the tape was
 restarted on a different position, and they had to fall in as
 graciously as possible. One of the walls of the facility consisted
 of a large mirror - as Cathrinne rightly guessed a one-way looking
 through glass : from behind the glass the customers could easily
 look at the progress the woman were making. Cathrinne didn't care :
 she had already a long time before concluded that she was only a
 body, and that her survival would be one of sheer luck. Being
 displayed on a market like this was a non-event. She only hoped
 that - if death would come - it would be a swift one, like her
 friend Aminda, who had been crushed by a young elephant, first the
 legs, than the belly, the breast, the head. Cathrinne never had
 tried to become befriended again, it made you weak, and what the
 use? One of you would inevitably die during the three years of
 games, so better avoid the pain.

 When the instruction man entered the room, it felt like a punch in
 the belly. The game would begin, and nothing could stop it. The man
 pointed to two women, who were led out of the room, leaving four of
 them, including the older blonde.

 'You are the participants to this game. The survival chances are
 50%. The game goes as follows : The four of you will be standing on
 a platform, doing the body dance you have been trained for. You
 will wear only a thong bikini, the stiletto shoes, a hat and
 sunglasses. There are four colours for each item : red, green, blue
 and black, my assistant here will distribute them. The sunglasses
 are rather light, so you will have no difficulty looking at the
 monitors. During the dance, people will grade you, will look at
 you. You may not respond to them, just move through your dance.
 Only when they lay hand on you - literally - you should immediately
 stop moving and hold the pose you are in. At that moment they may
 indicate you to make certain movements. Never ever listen to
 commands, only indicated movements should be obeyed. As soon as the
 customer releases you, you fall in in the dance where the monitor
 shows you, just like you trained.
 The customers will grade you by giving you points : every customer
 has four points, and he may give them to the woman of his of her
 choice. The show takes three hours. After the show, the points are
 counted, and the highest two graded will be spitted and roasted
 alive, the other two go free.'

 The girls cried out loud when hearing there possible fate. Being
 roasted alive was at once the fate most feared, and seemingly the
 fate most frequently applied by the Organisation. The instructor
 remained silent for a few seconds, then made them shut up with a
 single movement of his hand.

 'To reward the best trained ones : the organisation has two man out
 there, each posessing fourty points. The will distribute those
 points according to the way you have carried out you job. Needless
 to say that those eighty points will be decisive in determining the
 winners and loosers. So, you'd better not trip, let your hat fall,
 or move while you are being touched. Some additional rules now : it
 is forbidden to speak, to utter a sound, even if selected, and you
 should act as if you enjoy all this, so you smile wile walking to
 and being on the platform, you wave to the people while not
 dancing, you give them a good and convincing show. Pissing will get
 you bad points too, shitting will be no problem, as the thongs are
 equipped with an ass plug. If you loose the game, and you behave
 yourself up to the kitchen, we will administer some tranquilizer,
 to fight the pain. If you misbehave, your fate will be the same,
 but without tranquilizer at all. By the way, the two winning girls
 will need to administer the spits, and will have a sex job
 afterwards. The barbecue is to honour the 17th birthday of a
 lesbian girl, and she uttered the wish to have the loosers - as she
 calls them - with her and her lover in bed this night. Make a good
 show out of it, and you'll be rewarded in the morning.

 Now, put on those hats and thongs : Cathrinne take the blue one,
 Falù, as you are black, take the green one, Simone, as you are
 blonde, take the black one and - addressing the older woman - you
 Frau Alexandra Reith, take the red one. We wille leave this
 compound in this order, and we will show you the places you have to
 take on the podium. The video screens are located exactly as during
 the trainings, and the weather is just great - you'll enjoy being
 in the open.'

 Cathrinne's hands were shaking from nerves while she fastened her
 shoes. She hoped, really hoped she would calm down, as being
 nervous always attracted sadistic people, who loved the idea of
 having a poor, trembling wrench snuffed. It would also hinder her
 equilibrium during the dance.
 The thongs were a bit different from what they had been wearing
 during the training, but Cathrinne felt not surprised : they had a
 large rubber dildo to be pushed in the ass to prevent them from
 shitting. Piss was seemingly not considered a problem, but
 Cathrinne knew that pissing was badly looked upon. Better avoid it,
 every punition point could mean the difference between life and
 death. She knew that the Organisation could easily prevent them
 from pissing with a rubber stub, and from talking with some
 anesthetics, but this time they seemingly preferred to leave the
 animals some room of error.

 The girls were put in a small line, red, black, green and blue, and
 the instructor gave them the last guidelines :
 'Ok now, I go out first, you leave some space, and then follow
 behind me. I will stop at the podium, you wait close to me, but
 still in a line. I announce you, and then I guide you to your
 individual positions. Then the tape starts and the rest will be
 clear. A last warning : there will be a circle drawn around each of
 you. A girl leaving the circle will be roasted alive, for as long
 as possible. Better not try it, ladies.'

 Cathrinne believed every word he said. The Organisation was not in
 fooling people. They were as real as a sharp knife. The instructor
 opened the door, and left, soon to be followed by the four
 unfortunate woman. After a short walk through the corridor the
 girls entered a sun-lit garden, where a bunch of people were
 assembled in a typically garden-party style. Cathrinnen could not
 guess whether it was morning or evening, but she was thankfull for
 the sunglasses, that filtered out a bit of the heavy sunlight,
 after weeks of living in artificial light and dimmed daylight at
 the best.
 She noticed how the negress was waving enthousiastically at the
 people in the garden and was smiling to everybody, and hasted
 herself to do the same. While her stomach was slowly changin into a
 block of steel, her outer body was relaxed and she was surprised
 how easy it was to smile and to wave, just as if she had all the
 fun of the world. The instructor was already standing on a
 rectangular platform, with a mike in his hand, and the four women
 stopped near to him, and naturally all four assumed a show-off
 pose, hands on their hips, leg muscles strained, head a bit turned.

 'Ladies and gentlemen, I have the official pleasure of introducing
 to you those four beautiful cows, that are going to be on display.'

 Cathrinne broke the pose and waved enthousiastically to the waiting
 crowed, soon foloowed by the other women. A even enthousiastic
 applause emerged from the crowd.
 'Thank you, thank you. Now for the rules, they are simple. During
 three hours the cows will show off their muscles. Everybody has
 received four points in tickets. Now, if you would like a cow to be
 roasted, then simply put a ticket in her basket. At the end of the
 show, we will ring a bell, and exactly five minutes later the
 selection will stop. We then count the points, and the two cows
 with the most points will be on the menu. Now let me introduce you
 to : Cow Alexandra from America, wearing Red.'
 Under a loud applause he guided the older woman to a corner of the
 podium, where he positioned here with here face directed away from
 the center of the podium.
 'Cow Simone from Denmark, wearing Black' applause, and Simone was
 placed the same way in the next corner.
 'Cow Falù from Haiti, wearing Green' applause, and Falù was guided
 to the third corner.
 'And cow Cathrinne from Russia, wearing Blue' applause, and
 Catgrinne was guided to the last corner.

 'Ladies and Gentleman, the cows will now start their showing off.
 You are allowed to touch them, and as long as they are being
 touched they will not move, unless you indicate them otherwise. As
 they are cows, they are not allowed to speak or to listen, so
 you'll have to express your wishes more manually, as they say.
 Choose wisely, the success of the barbecue depends upon your wit!.'

 The music started and Cathrinne, together with the other three
 women, quickly assumed the starting position, looking at the hidden
 monitors with half an eye. Then the dance started.

 Standing upright, turning with two heavy steps a quarter to the
 left like a soldier, bringing the underarms horizontally, then
 acting as a man fucking a woman from behind, thrusting the hips
 forward three times while throwing the arms to the back, place one
 step forward, moving the right arm to the right and the down,
 turning the upper body to the right, while maintaining the hips
 where they were, showing of the belly muscles ...

 The crowd resumed the interrupted chatter, and initially seemed to
 be uninterested. After all, three hours was plenty of time to walk
 around, to have a look, to decide. The music played on, and new
 guests were still arriving.

 ...now on hands and knees, turning the middle like a raging lion,
 then sweeping the back up and down, up and down, moving the hands
 over the ground to the front, like an awaikening cat, all in slow
 motion, back on all four, stretching a leg behind, and lifting it
 as far as possible ...

 Cathrinne started to sweat. The sun was hot, and where the guests
 were standing in the shadow of the threes, the podium was in the
 middle of an open place, and the sun burned merciless on the almost
 naked bodies. Luckily they all had a deep albeit artificial suntan.
 The sweat made the strong, working bodies very nice to look at. A
 few people started to walk to the podium, discussing all this kind
 of trivia people seemed to discuss while doing nothing. Cathrinne's
 english wasn't good enough to understand the chatter, but from a
 few words she heard, it was about football. She felt disgusted. Two
 women here were going to die, just for the pleasure, for the 'fine'
 taste of some of those rich bastards, those women were showing off
 their bodies, and those guys were talking about football. But
 disgusted or not, she kept the smile on her face, and graciously
 continued the drill.

 ... standing upright on your toes, having all the muscles strained,
 the fingers wide spread in front of the abdomen, Slowly moving the
 arms up, then, with all the muscles still strained and still
 standing on the toes, slowly turning to the right without moving
 the feet, assuming a walking pose...

 Cathrinne saw how a couple was looking at Falù and were discussing
 the athletic form of the negress. It was true, Falù had a really
 great body: not overly muscled, just enough to give an athletic
 impression, and made strong by the months of exercise, a nice face
 too, although the sunglasses gave her a 'cheap' look, very long and
 nice legs. The woman touched the belly of the negress and Falù
 immediately stopped moving, even holding her breath as much as
 possible, while the woman smeared the sweat over the tense belly
 muscles, and towards the legs of the black woman. She released her
 hold and Falù immediately moved further on, now showing her back
 and buttocks to the looking couple. Cathrinne turned around and
 lost sight of the negress.

 ... now showing off the back muscles. Standing upright, legs
 spread, leg muscless as strained as possible, slowly bringing the
 arms above your head, then letting them fall down slowly to each
 side of the body, putting the hands together at the back, pressing
 them together, swaying the hips a bit from left to right, now
 slowly lowering the body, on the knees, turning around in a
 seductive pose, looking away from the podium...

 Cathrinne found herself face to face with three teenagers, two boys
 and a girl, that were looking at her intensely. One of the boys was
 noisily eating an apple.

 'You see, this one has big, firm tits' one of the boys remarked.
 'They are called udders', the girl remarked. 'Tits are for slaves
 and breasts are for women.'
 'You know what I mean. Do you think they are real? My brother says
 some girls have their breasts modified with plastic to make them
 look bigger and firmer. He says he likes it.'
 'I don't think so', the second boy added. 'It would be a nausance
 to have plastic inside if they get cooked. It would melt and ruin
 the meat. I once had a grilled hamburger were the plastic wrapping
 was badly removed and it was really yecchy.'

 ... sitting on the knees, legs together, ass a few inches above the
 heels, so that the thigh muscles are nicely shown, back straight.
 Placing the hands on the knees, at the inside. Pushing the knees
 wide open to show the nicely shaved cunt. Letting the hands slide
 along the thigs, the hips, upwards towards the breasts. Supporting
 the breasts with two hands, opening the mouth and pushing out the
 tongue...

 The boy took one of the breasts in his hand.

 ... freeze ...

 He squeezed and twisted it.
 'I think they are real. My brother says you can always feel it if
 they are filled.'
 The other boy also started to knead the other breast.
 'I don't feel anything special inside.'
 'They are real' decided the girl. 'If they had enlarged them, they
 would have made them really huge. We have a slave girl like that.
 It was a pleasure slave for my sis, but my brother liked her, so my
 sis had her breasts filled until they ware as big as balloons, and
 gave her to my brother for his birthday. I am pretty sure that you
 can't roast that kind of tits. The filling is not very strong : my
 brother used to use them as punching balls for his training, and
 one of them got broken or something, anyhow it had to be repaired.'

 'Your sis had her breasts enlarged?' one of the boys asked
 increduleous.
 'No, you stupid, she had the breasts of the slave enlarged. People
 don't enlarge their breasts. That would be, I mean, like cheating.'

 'But they wear wonder bra's'
 'That's different. Now, do you want to taste those breasts or not.
 I want to go swimming'.

 The other boy was still kneading the Cathrinne's breasts.
 'Yup, I would like to. Then we will know for sure whether they are
 filled or not.'

 He let the breasts go and started to search his pocket.

 ... directly going to the current figure. Hands on the ground, one
 feet under the body, the other stretched backwards, then sliding
 the backwards foot forward and the other backward. Repeating ...

 To her horror, Cathrinne saw the three youngster taking all their
 tags out of their pockets, and dropping them in the basket. Without
 looking at her anymore, the three kids run away, yelling that who
 was going to be the last in the water was going to be lame a duck.
 She cursed them, and cursed her beatifull boobs too.

 Sweat started to stream from the well trained bodies. The harsh sun
 was biting, and the hats only protected their heads so far. More
 and more people were visiting the podium, and checking out the
 meat. Tickets were dropped in baskets, sometimes after clese
 examination, sometimes casual. Cathrinnes maltreated breasts were
 glimmering red from the squuezing of the youngsters, and attracted
 the attention of some of the guests. In her thoughts she cursed the
 kids, who by the curiosity had drown the attention to her, and
 although her face retained a sunny smile, her stomach was twisting
 and her heart was beating in despair. It was difficult to estimate,
 but too many people stopped in front of her.

 Cathrinne saw how Falù next to her had been stopped halfway during
 the six push-ups. She had been halted, while her arms were not yet
 fully stretched by an elder man, who let his hands slides softly
 along the ebony skin of the nicely shaped negress. The old man
 seemed to like the feeling of the muscled body, fighting agains
 gravity, and the trembling of the belly and arm muscles amused him.
 Slowly he let his hands slide over the back, the buttocks, then
 again on the underside of the bode, touching the breasts, the neck,
 slading back to the legs, the thigs. Sweat was dripping from her
 nose, but she managed to held her head upright as was required. The
 old man didn't seem to notice the despair in her eyes. With his
 hand leaning on the back of Falù, he bended down to look at her
 breasts and heaving belly. He contemplated a bit the luscious view,
 then straigtened himself and finally let the poor woman go. The
 other woman were standing upricht in the mean time, and, while
 turning, Cathrinne saw how Falù tried to lift herself, failed, and
 had to let herself slide on her belly before standing up, her arms
 completely exhausted from the ordeal.

 'Bad points' Cathrinne thought, 'The bitch failed. She will be
 punished. Get additional tags. I still have a chance.' With despair
 she smiled to the on-looking guests, who even hadn't noticed the
 failure of the poor Falù.

 ... turning around, showing buttocks and back to the people. Making
 the boy-fucks-girl-from-behind movement, three times quick,
 synchronized with the beat in the music, then five times slow, more
 waving like a snake, then again three times quick. Lifting the left
 leg like a ballet dancer and twisting the knee outside ...

 Cathrinne saw a middle-aged woman in expensive clothes looking in
 sheer disbelief at the back of Alexandra, the older woman of the
 four.

 'I cant believe this. Christ, I really can't believe this.
 Alexandra Reith, the disgusting, bitchy Alexander Reith.'.

 ... turning around, face to the public, legs spread. Standing on
 the feet, then lifting on the toes, with the legs a bit plied so as
 to show the thigs ...

 Cathrinne couldn't see what happened behind her back, but she heard
 the woman explain in an unbelieving voice.
 'Jacky, look, this is Alexandra Reith. Do you remember the story I
 told you, about the most harsh selection I survived? The one I'm
 still dreaming of? Well, the bitch in this story was this Alexandra
 Reith. And now she is here. As a cow to select. Oh God I hope she
 gets it here, I hope so much she get roasted. I want her tongue,
 yes, roasted, and a nice salad with it. God, how in heaven did she
 manage to get here?'
 A man of about her age joined her 'I saw you arriving, dear
 Evelyne. I hope you like the situation?'
 'Oh Chuck, sure. You knew about Alexandra and me? And how did she
 get in a Risc Group? She cheated?'
 'Yes and no, I mean, yes , I knew of Alexandra and you, and no she
 didn't cheat. As you know, Frau Reith has for a long time being
 heavily depressed, suicide plans and all that. And one day she
 placed one bet too many, she bettet her ass, literally, and she
 lost. And the winner put her in a Risc Group. I knew of her, and
 had her organised for this little barbecue. So, dear Evy, now it's
 up to you to get your revenge, but remember, no cheating. Just
 convince as many people as possible to roast the cow.'
 Another man cut in 'If I get it right, Evelyne, you two know each
 other, and aren't exactly, hmmm, friends?'
 Laughter. 'Oh no. You know, I participated in a Risc Group, and I
 survived. That's why I'm here, by the way. Born as poor as Job. One
 of the tests I had to do was a firing test : women running on a
 platform, beween small shelters that disappear suddenly in the
 ground so you are uncovered and have to jump for another. At about
 250 yard the hunters are standing, with guns. They shoot at the
 preys. If you're hit, you don't get any shelter anymore. They shoot
 you to pieces. The turkey game, they call it. There were only two
 shooters that game, and four of us. One of the shooters hit one of
 us four, and killed her. Then, she left it to her friend, miss
 Reith here - the name was pronounced with clear acid in it - to
 finish off one of the remaining three. Miss Reith was so drunk she
 had difficulties to aim, and for one reason or another she only
 aimed at me. The others were allowed to be uncovered, she even
 didn't fire, it was always me. Then, accidentally, she hit one of
 the other girls in the head and the game was over. Lights went on,
 shelters went down. Then she fired again at me, against the rules,
 and missed. I heard she explained that the shot was involuntary,
 but I saw her aim. She really wanted my death. She didn't want to
 play, she wanted to murder. And now she is here. And I don't want
 to murder, but I surely want to play. And to eat.
 Jacky, darling, may I please have your tickets? I would like to
 make this bitch feeling popular at least once in her lifetime. She
 really deserves it.'

 Cathrinne almost closed her eyes from relief. She finally
 understood the presence of the older woman in the group. Too bad
 Evelyne & Co had arrived so late, most tickets were already
 dispensed. But Cathrinne felt her chances of survival rising. She
 saw Evelyne making the tour of all the guests, ramassing tickets,
 laughing, teasing, getting her way. If Alexandra wasn't popular,
 Evelyne clearly was : she seemed to have not much difficulties in
 obtaining tickets from a lot of people, which she then with a
 triumphantical smile deposited in the box of Alexandra.

 The poor woman was almost for sure condemned to death now, but she
 kept on smiling, and working through the exercises. The training of
 the Organisation was wonderfull, and had once again turned out a
 perfect cow : although the woman was confronted with her siblings,
 her past life as a free person, and with her death on the spit, she
 managed to continue the show, with a radiant smile, as if nothing
 could ever touch her.

 ... touching the toes with straight legs, once, twice, stretching
 upright, then slowly lowering the knees, hands still upright, as to
 bring the breasts on eye-heighth of the lookers-on ...

 The box of Simone looked empty. Cathrinne damned the blonde
 Scandinavian. She was well muscled, but seemed to lack the
 sex-appeal she had, or the exotic sense Falù emanated. If Evelyne
 managed to get enough tickets, if Falù was punished enough for
 failing the movement with the old man, she might survive it. If she
 had been born rich, she even might have never been here. Cathrinne
 let the hopefull thoughts racing through her brain. She had
 reasoned that people wanted to beat the losers, so, if you thought
 you were lost, the would feel it, and push yoou even deeper down,
 giving you ticket after ticket. If however you were confident about
 not loosing, they would feel amused, attracted, and would spare
 you. That's the way it goes. She hoped desperately she was right in
 this.

 The speaker announced that the selection was soon going to be
 finished, and asked everybody to finish their selection. Some
 people hurryingly interrupted their smalltalk and hurried to the
 podium, throwing their tickets in a basket, without even looking at
 the girl. Evelyne managed to convince another four men to trust her
 in depositing their tickets in 'the right box'. Then the music
 faded and it was all over.