<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Spabath on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/spabath/</link><description>Recent content in Spabath on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Mon, 14 Oct 2002 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/spabath/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Hunting Grounds</title><link>/stories/2002/10/14/hunting-grounds/</link><pubDate>Mon, 14 Oct 2002 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2002/10/14/hunting-grounds/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Amy Ford felt like she had
won the academy award the Nobel peace prize and the lottery all in one
when she got the call.
For weeks she had been ‘stalking
‘ this hunk of a man who had been showing up at the Firehouse Grill and
Bar.
Her prey had a name. Peter
Hunter. He seemed to have this glow about him that lit up the room. He
had superhero looks with a squared jaw and deep blue eyes with sandy brown
hair that sat on a remarkably trim and fit broad shoulder body.
He showed up during Singles
Friday over a month ago and all the women in the bar just seemed to gravitate
toward him.
Peter spoke in a soft kind
manner and was a dream to talk to. He must have been a debate captain because
he could talk to you on a variety of levels. Peter was not only good looking
but he had money. He did not drive sports car but a beat up old jeep and
very expensive SUV. She had seen him drive in with both. He would go camping
over the weekends and did invite one or two to go with him.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>