Under my shirt, I felt myskin flush and swell. My deep breaths pushed against the wire frame ofthe cups.I needed water.Guzzling a fresh cup from the r...pidly emptying water disposer, I subtlytouched my - I still shuddered at the anticipation - bra strap. I feltits contours sadly. Was this the epitome of my life? To creep around theoffice wearing... God knows what it meant. I held back a tear."Hey Barry." Travers, my boss, was peering at me; a sceptical look onhis face. "We don't want you dying. Instead of working the world’s oldest profession, she could make an honest living. In exchange for a place to stay and three square meals a day, she would work for me. As the groundskeeper of my vast estate in the city of Brockton’s opulent west side. The second worker is Elisabeth Beck, a tall, blonde-haired and green-eyed, skinny white chick in her twenties who fits the blonde bimbo stereotype to a T. When I met her, she was a college dropout trying to survive while working as a waitress in. More

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