"Who's Louie?" she replied, still barrelling towards them."No, we can't go there," I pleaded, trying to pull back, "I know him.He's horrible. He's at ...the playgroup." Yeah, he looks like an idiot," she replied, seemingly not caring aboutmy concerns, "we'll make him look silly."I thought that was unlikely, and flushed a whole new shade of red whenLouie finally spotted us. "Ha, looking at him," he said, his bellypushing out against his Arsenal shirt. "He works at the playgroup," hetold his. My daughter-in-law settled in like a charm.About a year into the marriage, my son decided that he wanted to quit the old farming occupation and move on to more dynamic areas like commerce. To avoid any confrontations between his 'old-fashioned' father and himself, my son moved with his wife to the house just down the street; we were still living close enough to bring the other running over with just a single holler, and it afforded the necessary distance between me and my son. He must have. She eased up some when he told her that he planned to live at home while attending Stetson. Charles said it was an ambitious plan and to be ready for it to not all fall in place for him. At four his sisters arrived. They had been with Maria dropping Tyler off at the airport. Angie was glum because Tyler would not be back until Christmas break.Melissa came home at six. She excitedly told them about her trip. She gave Charles some Polaroids of the TFA Superstore site. Charles was thrilled with. The gasps of the women began to mingle with the panting of the men. The circle throbbed and pulsed around the floor. Low groans came from the girls as they began to roll in surging passion. Mike was on the very brink of her climax when she heard the quick rustle of feet and the click of the light switch.The room erupted into motion around her. The brunette tried to roll across the floor, but kept bumping against flailing, twisting bodies. She turned onto her knees and crawled for a moment.