Standing On A Chair

Telling it like I see it…

The Masturbator Part Two

Farrah and I loved our apartment complex.  Built in the early 60’s and situated on Palms Boulevard in West Los Angeles, it was a compact, U-shaped collection of two-bedroom, two-story townhouses, all connected, with everyone’s front door opening up to a swimming pool in the center.  Each unit had its own little garden patch, and I planted a ground cover with bright yellow flowers.  A high brick fence and a row of tall, sweet smelling Eucalyptus trees buffered the sounds of the busy boulevard.  It was beautiful.  The kind of place conducive to knowing your neighbors.  I felt cocooned.  I felt safe.

Until now.

“What we have here, Mrs. Miller, is a masturbator,” said the policeman as I gave him a cup of coffee.  It was 2:00 a.m. and he looked tired. 

“A masturbator?  What do you mean, officer?”

“Looks like you’ve got somebody peeping at you through your ceiling upstairs.  Likely one of your neighbors.  There’s a common, open attic stretching across all these apartments.  Don’t build ‘em like that anymore.  Fire codes and all.”

“Oh my God.”

“Know anybody who would do this, Mrs. Miller?”

“Please call me Jill.  And yes, now that I think about it, my next-door neighbors are a little strange.  Married couple with a son.  The boy looks about sixteen but says he’s twenty-one.  He’s been hovering around quite a bit lately.”


“When they first moved in a couple of months ago, he spoke to me out by the pool.  Said he wanted to get to know me.  Said he liked my looks.  I kind of laughed, thought it was cute, and I told him to look for someone younger.  He was pretty flirtatious.  Truth be told, I felt kind of flattered, considering I am probably twice his age.”

“Anything else?”

Mind racing, flashbacks started popping up.  “Christ.  I’ve been seeing him everywhere lately.  Smiling at me.  Watching me get into my car, watching me get out of my car, hanging nearby at the pool, in the laundry room.  Last week he knocked on my door and wanted to come in for a visit.  I told him no, it was too late.  I told him to go hang out with people his own age.  I tried to be nice.  He doesn’t seem to have any friends. He’s just a kid!”

“Okay, then, Mrs. Mil…uh, Jill.”  We’ll file our report, and a detective will be assigned to your case.  You should hear from him on Monday.”

“Monday?  Why Monday?  I could be raped before then!”

“It’s the weekend Mrs. Miller.  And this doesn’t appear to be a violent situation.  Pervs like this rarely act out beyond their voyeuristic behavior.  You can call us if you need to.  In the meantime, I suggest you get your landlord to plug up all those holes right away.”

After the police officer left, I sat on my couch with my hundredth cup of coffee and watched the sun come up through the octagonal stained-glass window on the wall at the bottom of the stairs.  I woke up the landlord at 7:00 a.m. and within a couple of hours he had all the holes plugged.  He did it himself.  He didn’t say much but I could tell he was pretty disturbed about the whole thing.

I picked up Farrah from her friend’s house at around noon and we spent the afternoon at a park nearby.  After dinner and a little television time, I put her to bed and dropped dead in the bed myself at around 8:30 p.m.  And although I was still pretty freaked out, exhaustion took the lead and I felt myself drift into a deep sleep.

But not for long.

I was awakened suddenly by a strange, back-and-forth sawing sound.  Jerking upright, I listened through the fog in my brain.  It was coming from the closet.  I leaped out of bed, opened my closet door, and watched in horror as the blade of a long knife moved in and out of the back closet wall.

Stay tuned for Part Three.


January 18, 2011 - Posted by | Stalkers | , , ,


  1. Hope you didn’t give him yoo much to be excited about……..My question? PJ’s or naked?

    Comment by Barb | January 18, 2011 | Reply

  2. Jill!
    You are killing me here!
    One of your best yet!

    Comment by Terry Sexton | January 20, 2011 | Reply

  3. Omg! I can’t stand waiting I must know what happen.

    Comment by Misty | January 23, 2011 | Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: