"Keep working to her forehand. Get her wrong-footed and you'll have an easy time of it."Cindy bit her lip, looked at the departing girl one more time,...and then looked back at Sammi. "Her forehand? Are you sure?" She has a good backhand, and her forehand is good if she can plant her feet, but if you can get her to run to her right she overshoots a bit and she'll hit some weak volleys back at you."Cindy nodded. "I'll try to keep that in mind." She looked at the other girl one more time, and then. "She finally stopped, panting out of breath, but continued sobbing."Sweetheart, I'm not going to leave you, and that's fantastic news about not being pregnant. Your mother told me. We dodged a bullet there. She also told me you were tested for STD's and came up clean, but we need to talk. If we are going to stay together, things are going to change. Okay!" Yes, anything. Anything! I've told Angela to go to hell. I never want to see her again." Yes, I understand. I've had a talk with Angela. The order was passed and the tap-tap of the drum which signalled the timing of the oars quickened and up from the galley hold came a sighing, groaning sound as it reached the ears of the wretched slave girls, each chained to her oar. Each called on what reserves of strength there were and tried to forget the back and arms that already ached cruelly... for each was aware that their black overseer now prowled the cat-walk with his corded whip trailing at the ready and each was supremely conscious. The ladies were going to connect with Angela’s sister and niece for a super mother-daughter long weekend.Orlando could not believe his luck. He had the entire 2,864-sqaure-foot, four-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath home, with the broad front porch and four dormer windows. To himself. This almost never happened. He had been looking forward to it all month – two days alone. He had to pick up the boys from camp on Saturday.Orlando’s wife called as he was getting ready for the evening.“Hello,”.