Freaky masturbatory stalker

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I was walking home late last night. Very late. No one else was out, the streets were blotched with shadows and blanketed with silence, and all but a disparate few windows were blacked out.

A rustle soon caught my ear and I became aware of a strange man literally lurking in the bushes. He looked scary. Not evil scary but, rather, so out of place that his very presence ranked suspiciously unkind and alarming. He wore a jacket fastened up to the collar, was calm and uttered not a word or a nod in the way of "Guten nacht" but only quietly watched me pass by. After several steps of hearing nothing but the smacking of my

leather soled footsteps I wondered -- worried -- if he mightn't be in pursuit with quiet sneakers and dared to look behind. No, he was not following me per se; but there stood he still, camouflaged by shadow, watching me. Had I seen something I wasn't supposed to? Was he a fag, a rapist, a thug, a psycho, a murderer?!


The avenue suddenly was too empty and dark. So unforgivably unpeopled.

After some moments the stranger appeared on the other side of the street peddling his bicycle one-handed en pace with me. (I took some comfort in knowing that at least he was across the street.) His other hand was tucked away in his front pocket and the stranger made it obvious he was watching me. Then it became obvious what he was doing with his other hand. Goddamn pervert was masturbating. Masturbating, stalking, and riding a bike...even sick motherfuckers can multitask!

He pursued this kick for a while. When I glanced over again he was out of sight. Just then I came to a major road and gave up the night stroll and quickly hailed a cab