Can’t you help me? I know that you know all the secrets of this place. Please, please. Please!!! Let’s start all over again. I need to take a deep...breath. Here is my own private calming mantra. I’m not a street urchin and I’m not a plantation born work-slave. I went to a good school when I was free. We used to do rhetoric lessons in three languages, so I can tell my story properly if I want to, and I do want to, so here it goes:My slave name is Sapphire, except in here. The guards here don`t. " "They look great. I thought about it but I think that would make me look like a toothpick with two olives stuck to it." With that Krysten laughed and Ashley leaned forward and untied the back of her bikini top. She pulled it over her head and looked down and said, "I think they are ok for my build" rubbing under them where the string was. "Believe me, your the best my brother has ever had, better than all those bimbos he use to bring home." "Really? Bimbos huh?" She turned to me an. Maybe Jenna was waiting until we got alone to talk to me. Or yell at me. Anyways, it was about 7 PM and we were all hungry. We went to a restaurant, and unlike Boston, I loved it. After we ate, we walked around the downtown area for about 3 hours. We started heading back to the hotel, and I started getting nervous. We arrived in our rooms, and I played it off like I wanted to get to bed as early as possible. Jenna said okay, much to my relief. I felt her crawl in about 45 minutes later. I. Creepy Mr. Davenport turned around and looked directly in through the front window. Melissa froze, becoming part of the furnishings. Mr. Davenport's gaze skipped over her-she made a quailing little squeak of abhorrence-but continued on after only a moment's hesitation to took at the house as a whole, during which time Melissa could have made her escape. Melissa could be polished marble though; she didn't even breathe. Then creepy Mr. Davenport angled across the front yard to the walk and.