God, she knows. We’re fucked.”“Calm down. She suspects, but she doesn’t know.”“No wonder she’s been so cold with me lately. Ah, fuck me�...�”“Daddy, stop.”When the food came, they mostly ate in silence.He hurried to pay the bill. “Come on. Let’s go.”“Oh, you’re mad now?”“I’m not.”He stood up and gestured for her to hurry up. He put on his long, black coat. She scrambled to put her pink fleece jacket on. Then she scurried to keep up with his long strides towards the door.“Wait, daddy, jeez,” she. Mrs. Miller was one of those new worlds.Mrs. Miller was a redhead, short in stature, with perky little tits. She was no knockout, but she had her moments. Her husband had been killed about 6 months earlier in a bad accident and she had a daughter who was in my class at school. I had never peeped into her window before and I decided it was time to take a shot. Her house was set back and easily accessible for a peeping Tom. There was alot of cover. The lights were on and as happened more often. More

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