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According to local legend, the original owner ordered the hook's construction to allow him to observe activities of untrustworthy bartenders behind the bar while also keeping an eye on equally untrustworthy patrons. Hell, she flirted with everyone: Men, women, and even the bartender's mangy tomcat. I pitied the lucky guy who won Darlene's attention.The voyeur and hermit in me loved the spot, and I had it all to myself for several months until the day Darlene arrived. At first, I was annoyed at the invasion of my secret space. Like commuters sharing an across town bus, we got used to each other's presence on the installment plan. While I enjoyed the sometimes risqué banter, I never considered Darlene as potential girlfriend material. I amused myself trying to sneak a peek down her blouse or up her skirt when I thought she wouldn't notice. She had the uncanny ability to read people like a book and play them like a deck of cards.If anything, she was too beautiful and too self-assured. After we moved in together, I would joke that I was 'robbing the cradle' when I took her to bed.The men she flirted with as she worked her way around the tavern were flattered, flustered, and fearful of her attention. After ten or fifteen minutes of flagrantly flirting Darlene returned to her seat to regroup and refuel. Can I have another one to keep this one company," Darlene touched his hand, and if her smile had been any warmer, the barkeep would have erupted into flame. " Darlene laughed as she raised her index finger and traced a point on the invisible blackboard in the air. She would always laugh and respond, "I guess that would make me a grave robber." A few things attracted me to Darlene. She was so easy going that I once tried to give her the nickname, Lake Placid.Our financial camel lay mortally wounded, it's back Wroke beyond repair.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 1 I stuffed my last cardboard box of personal belongings into the cargo hold of my girlfriend's Toyota Rav4, jumped into the passenger seat, and waited while she fussed over a map with directions to our new home. She flipped her shoulder-length hair out of her eyes for the umpteenth time and squinted to read the tiny letters. " She put the Rav into drive, and we started on our way. Darlene was a smart, feisty, petite brown-haired woman, just under five feet five inches tall, with small breasts, shoulder length hair, and a freckled baby face. I met Darlene at a local tavern where we developed an unlikely May-December relationship.Her second expedition of seduction ended in bewildered frustration. I usually have to beat men off with a stick," shaking her head in disgust, she demolished another White Russian. Darlene's rent check went south, along with about 25 or 30 personal checks and ATM transactions; each bad check racked up a bank charge, -30 in returned check merchant fees, and her account soon was bleeding red ink by several thousand dollars."Maybe you should offer to beat them off with a stick, you know, fifty shades of kinky? The certified letter ordering our eviction was the last straw.Mapmakers tended to hide the most critical information in the smallest print known to man. We moved in together to save money when my landlord evicted me from my apartment for nonpayment of rent. She played the part of May at the youthful age of thirty-five years.I fulfilled the role of December at the tender age of sixty-mumble.

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Our bartender presented her with another complimentary White Russian as his sacrifice to the Gods of Wishful Thinking. A few moments later, our generous drink master returned with three tall White Russians. Still waters run deep, and it didn't end well. " "A twofer is the first and last time something happens. Why the fuck would I want to be named after a stagnant pond? Everyone needs a hobby and sex was her diversion from work.

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