Her words were slow. "We think, master, you may have become accustomed to us. We are slaves. Real slaves. We know we can never escape. We know we must...do what we are told." She smiled ruefully. "It took a lot of time and a lot of pain to bring us to where we are now. But we will do what you desire. You may tie us or chain us or whip us to your heart's content. We will try and please you." She paused and grinned in genuine humor. "Pettie Corbin isn't going to be like that at all." The thought. The bedding was muddy where it wasn't wet. A miserable time was had by all. At least, Noah had his Ark, all they had were these damned wagons. And they weren't making their schedule. The oxen were struggling to pull the wagons through a quagmire which seized the wheels and held them in a virtual death grip. Each wagon sank a little deeper into the mud than the wagon in front of it. The wagons at the rear of the train were sinking in more than a foot. In dry weather, the wagon train was nearly a. They found a table and settled down. Stan wasn't much of a wine drinker, but Anne spotted a Meursault on the menu and asked for that. Wine and glasses were brought over. The lovely white burgundy was cool and refreshing. Both sipped appreciatively.Neither spoke for a while. They were each seeking the right way to start the conversation, but neither could actually do it — both were responders, rather than instigators. Finally, Anne smiled and said,"This is silly. We're like two tongue-tied. ---Sales were up. Way up. The schmoozing made a real difference. Krysti was in magazines, her video was in heavy rotation on TRL and her songs were everywhere. By the end of the fourth month of release, "Krysti Angel" had been certified gold, selling 500,000 copies. There was a buzz around the record, and its' star.For the next video, the record company went all out. A cast of fifty extras and twenty dancers were used. The set was lavish, costing alone a million dollars. And the special effects.