.I need you. I need a friend. It hurts. Talk to me Grant. I hurtso much, and my head is everywhere."I'm right here buddy. Just relax. And I think I've...got a way out." No, please, just talk about old times. I don't want to think about thisanymore." You gotta! I want out of here. And then maybe we can reverse this." No, by the time we got out, I'd be what he's turning me into and I don'twant that. I don't want to remember this. Please, just talk about oldtimes," Thurman said. Thurman's eyes,. I made a point of drawing attention to myself, even waving at a couple of Mom's friends. This established my alibi, and so when I headed out the door a few minutes later nobody thought anything of it. The things I'd bought were already stashed in my car, and when Mom asked me what I'd found I'd be able to show her.A few turns, a stop in a parking garage, and a short taxi ride later I was at the side entrance to the Holiday Inn Express. It wasn't my preferred venue for this sort of thing, but. He double checked the math.“I think that will work. It never hurts to be lucky.”He stood up and went to the outer office to retrieve his first cup of coffee for the day. He brought it back to his desk and sat down. He raised the steaming cup to his lips and it tasted good. It was a bit stronger than Delores would have made it, or he would have had in the Bluebird. It was to his liking and he remarked to himself, again, that the coffee tasted good.It was just past eight-thirty. George Lambe’s. All is as soft and as intimate as the scale of the room will allow.The slaves ‘enclosure’ is a cage whose slender bars are made of soft wood twined with golden ribbon. Inside are cushions of dyed and richly embroidered homespun upon which we slaves might sit. Everywhere the domestic servants are still busily preparing for the banquet and leaving no detail to chance, for tonight our mistress’ reputation is at stake. We enter the cage and some of us sit decorously, while others, such as me,.