Four years ago my wife, Mary, and I had a night on the town in ATL and it turned into something incredibly unforgettable. We were made spectators, then participants, in a gang bang at a highly respected and rated ATL hotel, the Westin Peachtree. The WP is a 70 story hotel with a rotating restaurant the top, in the heart of downtown Atlanta.
It was a stormy night in Atlanta. My bones rattled with chills as I struggled through sheets of rain that slapped against my body. My thin windbreaker failed it's only job, as I felt the dampness soak into my clothes which sucked onto my skin. It was a terrible night, but this struggle of the elements was worth it. For tonight, I would meet my angel, and nothing would warm my drenched body more than her embrace.
His wife bounced into the living room and announced, "They sold the Johnson's house."
"'Bout time," Gary said, not even looking up from the stack of bills.
"I saw the new owner," Theresa went on and hugged her husband from behind. "She's about my age, long blonde hair; she's cute too!"
"Oh boy," Gary said, still not looking up.
He was looking at the latest bill from her Visa credit card.