Chapter 2

I waited two weeks before going to the restaurant again -- two weeks of utter silence. Two weeks of nothing on TV about the mad restaurant rapist -- nothing on radio, nothing in the newspapers. Nothing. I went to dinner on a Thursday night and waited for the cops to stand over my table. Nothing. All I could figure was that the woman had put her clothes back on and walked out of there without telling anyone -- which was insane, in my book!

The next week, I went in on Tuesday afternoon; yeah, I had a death wish. A true sociopath would never have gone back there again, but I think I wanted to get caught. I'd been there maybe ten minutes when my victim came into the room and headed for the bathroom, scanning the room as she passed. I made sure I was looking elsewhere.

She was back out in no time; I think she went through the door, turned around, and walked back out. She passed again headed back to wherever her table was in another dining room.

Fifteen minutes later, she was back for a second pass -- well a second in my presence, anyway. I continued to eat, apparently unconcerned, but my brain was whirling. The next time, some redheaded girl came charging after her and stopped her at the beginning of the hallway and said, "Crystal, what is it with you and the Ladies Room? Do you have an infection or something? You've been up six times!"

I was dumbfounded! Maybe this Crystal thought I would pull that stupid stunt again? Maybe she thought she could catch me! Maybe she had a gun ... Maybe... 'I'm never eating here again!' I swore...

But I went back, the next Tuesday. It was almost five when I walked in -- and she was there, alone. I made certain I was parked a good distance away and in a poor direction for her to be able to see me -- and I watched her get up and go to the Ladies six times while I sat there.

I was fascinated. I HAD to know what in the Hell she had on her mind ... I went out to my car and I got organized as best I could. This wasn't going to be perfect; it wasn't going to be smooth. It was going to be scary. I tried to run various scenarios through my head, but ended up open, empty, only prepared to react.

She came out at eight. God knew how long she had been homesteading in there. Head down, she went to her car; I waited until she was moving and started mine and caught up about a block away. From there, I tailed her, varying my distance, turning my fog lamps on or off while out of sight on corners or whatever to change how the car looked in her mirrors.

She lived in a none-too-prosperous apartment block a couple of miles away; 'Shit, ' I thought, 'no chance they don't have cameras.' I pulled on a hoodie and a ball cap, which made me look like a convenience store robber. Ah, well. I shoved some stuff in a couple of plastic bags and carried them inside -- that got me through the lobby; I watched her punch for the elevator and made my way to the stairs -- there were only three floors. In the stairwell, I dropped the hoodie and shoved it in another bag, but kept the cap; I waited until she came out of the elevator on the second floor and turned down the hall toward her apartment (I HOPED it was her apartment!) before coming out of the stairwell, then I walked the hall behind her, head down, and passed her as she turned to unlock her door. Flashing a quick look for cameras, I doubled back and caught her going inside -- hopefully out of full view of a surveillance camera. The old push and trip was a lot harder with a bunch of plastic bags in my hands but at least her door closed on it's own ... She had a living room carpet, too -- I got a rug burn on my left hand but managed to maintain control of things. Sitting on her ass, puffing, with my hand over her eyes, I said, "Now, can you tell me what the FUCK you are up to?"

"The bag is in my purse."

I could NOT believe my ears! "Where is the gun, knife, mace, or whatever you have on you that was supposed to keep this from happening?" I asked.

"I don't have anything. Where's your stuff?"

"Well, the gun's in a bag somewhere, but I have the knife. That okay with you?"

"Uh huh."

"Good." I wanted to rub my face but I was out of hands. "Hang on." I stretched and got her purse strap and dragged it over to me. It was in there -- the heavy black cloth bag with the mouth hole. "You keep weird souvenirs. Lift your head." She did and I covered her head with the bag and tugged the drawstring tight -- and tied it. "Now, WHY do you keep weird souvenirs? Why do you spend Tuesdays in that restaurant, going to the bathroom every fifteen minutes? Is there a camera now? Did you have a gun stashed or something? Was there a police stakeout I didn't see?"

She was quiet for a while, then: "Do you remember that long rambling speech you made? The one about a perfect world?"

"Yeah."

"In a perfect world I would have a boyfriend with a big dick like yours, fucking me. In this one, I don't."

A sat back on her and scratched my head. "Am I on candid camera?"

"I never really expected you to come here. Are you here to rape me again?"

"Well, no -- I was more curious."

"Oh."

"You're telling me that you have been continually returning to the place where I raped you because you want to be raped again?" I asked, incredulous.

"I would settle for that."

"I don't think you're quite sane, Honey."

"I'm not alone. I don't think you're a serial rapist, either."

"Well, you're right," I quipped, "I have no idea how to rape cereal -- but I succeeded with a woman once. That makes me a hardened sex offender."

"Somehow, I'm not as scared as last time."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe I have to kill you now." My head was beginning to hurt. There were permutations and combinations... "How long until the cops arrive?"

"Forever, probably. Someone would have to call them."

"Someone may have already. How good is the video surveillance? See? There are too many variables -- things are out of control." I needed to get out of there -- this chick was nuts!

"In the first place, I doubt that our security guard noticed anything," she said reasonably. "In the second, you haven't raped me yet."

"You're lying there with a bag over your head and I'm sitting on you -- it's assault, at least!" I objected.

"IF someone shows up."

"Yeah, well..."

"If the cops show, they'll come busting through the door like John Wayne, right?" she said reasonably. "We'll probably get something like, 'Police! Open up!'"

"Okay..."

"So if that happens, you'll have to pull the bag off. I'll answer the door and tell them my boyfriend tripped and dropped the groceries. You'll have the gun, of course."

"They'll want to look around," I objected.

"You can hide the gun under the couch cushions or something."

"You will have seen me. THEY will have seen me!" This was madness! What had I been thinking?

"Look, I'm trying here!" she whined. "Besides, none of that stuff is gonna happen, anyway!"

"Well, what do YOU think we ought to do?" I might as well ask...

"I think we ought to wait. If the cops are coming, they'll be here in forty-five minutes, tops. If they don't show, you have all night!"