She doesn’t want the seedier, roadhouse types of places, at least not now. For now she’s going to concentrate on some nice places and see what she...can catch. Darcy takes a seat at the bar and immediately attracts the attention of the bartender. She knows she’s looking good tonight – tight pants, tight top, high heels. She screams sex but sophistication, not tramp (at least she thinks so). Darcy orders a gin and tonic with two limes and sits back on the comfy bar stool. At first she thinks that. She was in danger anytime she was around the asshole. I had to make up a lot of excuses and did my best to be home whenever she was. This morning she made it clear that she was going to the yoga studio, whether I wanted her to or not. I couldn’t come up with a legit reason for her not to, so instead, I decided to let her go and followed her.I pretended to leave for work, then parked down the street and watched our house through binoculars. It didn’t take long for her to come out. I watched her. She was sweating profusely because it was a bit warm in the late afternoon inside her living quarters just next to the bowling alley that sometimes shook with the sound of falling pins from a serious strike that exploded like a grenade inside the thinly walled location.I must admit that my experience with grenades was far more extensive than my skills in a bowling alley and I would wince time to time as I heard the sounds in the distance. The carnage of such explosions would haunt my daydreams. "Do you still love me, even though I just pulled this shit?" she asked. "Yes, I still love you, Kirsten. Now, I gotta go, Jack could come back at any second," I told her. She blew me a kiss, and walked away. I got the window down just before Jack arrived back, with something in his hand. "What are you doing, is someone at the window?" he pondered. My body quickly turned around, and I received an odd face from him. "Are you showing off? Someone could see you flaunting those breasts," he said..