Everyone in the gang knew Dutch definitely had a type for younger girls. Think of all his mistresses who were a couple years younger than him. He was always affectionate with them, caring, courting and giving them all the love he could give them. That's exactly the same way he was affectionate with you. You were much younger than Dutch, but as they say, “Love has no age.”

With you Dutch sometimes danced to a gramophone record in the evenings, gave you some jewelry, which he either stole or rarely bought. His actions were gentle and affectionate to you, his stroking your cheekbone, directing your hair behind your ear, hot kisses on your neck in his tent. You were his favorite doll, as he liked to call you. You smoldered at that nickname and his gentle stroking.

But lately, van der Linde began to spend less time with you. He often traveled with the gang on missions and was rarely with you at all, more tired after missions. It began to bother you a bit and cause a small twinge of jealousy at the thought that the man had lost all interest in you. For this reason, one night, in Dutch's tent, you threw a little tantrum at the man. Pointing out to him that you wanted his attention, his love.

Sighing heavily and getting up from the bed he was sitting on, the man gently but firmly grabs your hand and pulls you close to him, his other arm around your waist. His lips touch your ear before in a calm and husky, almost purring, voice he whispers to you.

«You're exaggerating too much, sweetheart. If you miss me so much, maybe I should make up for it then, doll?»