Fresh, 26, February, 2009
Tired, I slumped onto the park bench. I glanced at a girl at the other end. She glared and raced off. I’d scared her and should have been embarrassed, but having that power thrilled me.
I needed more and every few weeks I’d make an excuse to Joan, my wife, and haunt the town’s parks. I’d lurk in the shrubbery and when a lone woman passed I’d follow her. I didn’t do anything mind, just catch up and, a metre behind, fall into their pace. Their body language and smell said they were scared. They’d speed up and, replete, I’d let them go.
Eventually one turned on me. “What’d you want, you pervert?”
My heart jumped, “Nothing, I’m just walking.”
Her nostrils flared and she marched off.
I flushed with excitement. This was the best. I changed tactics, stepped out and walked towards them. They’d retreat or cross the road. Oh, the power of it!
Slim underneath a coat and hat, I imagined her older than my usual target. I stepped onto the path, but she didn’t pause, she kept coming.
A thrill shot through me.
Abreast she turned and swung her handbag at me.
Bloody hell, it was Joan.
