Stories Written on Lined Paper - 2. I Know Where You Live

Spring to Summer 1999

When the police cautioned me about Gerry West, they said that if they ever caught me again, I'd go to prison. That frightened me. I mean really frightened me. I used to lay awake at night worrying about it, about going to prison. I once saw this film about being in prison and three guys raped this other guy because he was quiet and effeminate. I'm quiet and shy and not really very manly, I know they'd do all kinds of stuff to me in prison, I know what they'd do to a man like me in prison. I was really frightened and it stopped me doing it for ages, nearly a year, but I couldn't stop doing it forever, I couldn't.

I'd met Gerry West at church, but after the police caught me and cautioned me, I changed churches, again. I'd met Gerry West at the Methodist church at the back of Sainsbury's, so I went along to my local parish church instead, but there was no one interesting there. It's a very evangelical church. You know the type: all happy hymns you clap to and sermons that are straight down the line, but all the men there were family men and they'd all let themselves go. You must know the type: they get married and the next minute they've let everything go and they've gone right off. I guess that's what stopped me doing it for so long. That and that the police really, really frightening me.

There's no one interesting at work: I work in the Salaries and Wages department. It's the same old faces, year after year after year. All right, the secretaries change -they never seem to last long - but they're only these bits of girls. There's no one interesting at work.

Apart from work and church every Sunday morning I don't get out of the house much, certainly not after mother died, and that was ten years ago now. Since she died there has only been me living here, the whole house to myself, and no one much visits me. There are some interesting men on the television, but I know they're only actors and actors are always different in real life. My cousin Annie is an actress and she's a real bitch, though she nearly married a vicar (you won't have heard of Annie because she's a really bad actress and only ever does stuff for kids).

My life was really dull then. I nearly gave up because there was no one interesting. Then Christopher Waters came along.

He, Christopher Waters, works in the Design Department at work. I easily found out he's one of the Graphic Designers. I hadn't seen him before because up until then, the canteen had been sectioned off and the different departments wound eat separately. I had to eat with the others from Salaries and Wages and none of them were interesting. Then, suddenly, they took down all the sections and we all had to eat together, in a big dining room.

I was queuing up with everyone else to pay for my dinner one Monday lunchtime when I first saw him, Christopher Waters. I was standing there with everyone else in the queue. The fat woman at the cash till was being really slow at letting anyone pay, when I looked up and saw him, Christopher Waters. He was standing at the Salad Bar, just spooning the different salads onto his plate, and I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was really interesting just to look at. He was tall - I like tall men - and very broad shouldered. He had a solid, athlete's body, all long arms, legs and a long torso plus solid muscle covering it all - I could see that even under his work clothes. His hands and feet were big but in proportion. His face was open, big and bright eyes, a big and open mouth. His hair was a bright blonde and cut very stylishly. He moved so carefully, even just spooning his salad onto his plate. Even the way he was dressed was different from all those other boring people around him. He had on a fresh white shirt, the sleeves neatly rolled up, these very, very black brushed cotton trousers and the most amazing embroidered waistcoat - it was all reds and blacks swirling patterns across the front with even tiny mirror buttons down the front of it. I don't know what I noticed first, him or his waistcoat, but I couldn't keep my eyes off him.

All through lunch that Monday, I couldn't keep my eyes off him. I had real trouble eating because I didn't want to even look down at my food, in case I missed something he did. He didn't do anything really exciting -just ate his salad and listened to his colleagues whine on, but he was beautiful to watch.

I watched out for him every lunchtime and then spent my whole lunchtime just watching him. I was so down and depressed on Wednesday when he didn't come into the canteen at all, but much later I found he plays squash every Wednesday lunchtime at our company's sports club. That week I found out that he always wears those amazingly different waistcoats - you could say they are his trademark. I also found out that he always moves in the most graceful way, even when just walking across the canteen, but that also he's one of life's listeners - like me. I mean each lunchtime he'd just sit there, eating his salad - he never bought anything else -, and listening to those around him. He'd hardly ever say anything back, even when those around him got really excited about something or other. He’d just sit there and quietly listen - again so like me.

Over the next handful of weeks, I found out lots of different things about Christopher Waters, all of them through work, and, of course, I watched out for him every lunchtime - except Wednesdays. I found out he's a Graphic Designer in the Design Department, that he's well thought of there but hasn’t been with our company a year yet. He's married: his wife works for some music company or something, but they don't have any children. He drives a Suzuki jeep, a black one, which is his pride and joy. He lives on the new estate over in River Vale, the new private estate. Also, that he has a beautiful singing voice - sometimes he sings softly to himself as he works. I found out all that just at work. People love to gossip and, as I've said, I'm a really good listener. The problem was it wasn't enough. I wanted to know everything I could about him.

When I'd go home at night, I'd imagine what he'd be doing, what food he'd eat, what television programs he liked to watch, what clothes he wore at home, what his home looked like, did he have a dog, did he keep his garden neat? I wanted to know everything about him. Problem is, I don't have a good imagination - certainly not as good as my mother had but it gave her a jealous and spiteful streak - so I couldn't imagine what his life was really like. If I imagined him at home his home looked exactly like mine and he was dressed the way he always was at work. As for anything else, my imagination just wasn't good enough to do it. In the end, it was driving me really crazy. In the end I had to do it: I had to know - I mean Christopher Waters was much too interesting for me not to find out everything there was to know about him. So, in the end I did it.

I guess because the first day I followed Christopher Waters home after work was a Friday 13th might have been a bad sign, but I didn't think about it at the time. My mother was very superstitious - sometimes you couldn't even get her to leave the home on Friday the 13th, but it never rubbed off on me. Only afterwards did it occur to me.

After work, I made sure I left work early so that I didn't miss him, I followed Christopher Waters home. It was really quite easy to do. His car is very distinctive, especially in the traffic around here, and my car is a dull green, old Fiesta and doesn't stand out much, especially in rush hour traffic. His house is at the top of his street, which is like everything in River Vale and slopes upwards. It was perfect. I could park my car much further down the street and was still able to see his house perfectly. There was much less chance of me being seen by him.

I wasn't in much luck that evening, though, because Christopher Waters had all the curtains drawn and all I saw were the lights on through them. I couldn't see anything of the rooms through the curtains, they were so thick, I couldn't see any shadows in the rooms. I couldn't even see if there was anyone moving around inside the house. All I could see was which rooms had lights on inside of them. I sat out there, in my freezing cold car, because I haven't gotten around to getting the heater fixed, for over an hour before I gave up and drove home.

I felt really stupid when I got home. I mean, I'd taken such a risk in following Christopher Waters and got nowhere. All I'd found out was that Christopher Waters' keeps his front garden very, very neat. That didn't seem much of a surprise, he's a very neat person in himself, but I wanted to know much more about him. I felt so angry at myself, such a terrible risk for nothing.

That Sunday, after church, I drove past Christopher Waters' house. Yes, I know River Vale is in the opposite direction to my house from our Parish Church, but believe me the idea just popped into my head after church - I didn't plan it. I was really in luck because I could see straight into the lounge and there was Christopher Waters. He was dressed in a baggy old tee shirt and these baggy old cotton trousers, his face needed a shave and his hair was all messy, he actually looked scruffy. He looked really different than he does at work. I didn't stay there, watching Christopher Waters' house, for very long because I would have been noticed. The street where Christopher Waters' house was, was really busy, people all coming and going and kids all over the place. I mean someone could see me there, sitting in my car, and put two and two together. As I drove home, I felt I had got somewhere - I had finally seen Christopher Waters in his home environment, away from work.

I didn't drive by Christopher Waters' house every day, I mean someone was bound to notice me if I was there every day. I tried to keep it down to a decent minimum, and I tried not to have a pattern to it either. I had to be very careful that no one saw me.

I learnt so much from watching Christopher Waters' house. To begin with, as the weeks passed and the evenings lightened, he didn't draw his curtains so early and I got to see right into Christopher Waters' house.

His house seemed to be very ethnic and rather scruffy. There were those Indian-throw-over things all over almost everything and lanterns and wall hangings all over the walls, which themselves were painted a very loud red (I wouldn't want to live in it, far too messy, but it was all probably his wife's doing). Far more importantly, I got to see Christopher Waters relaxing at home, in his home environment. He actually wasn't as neat and tidy as he is at work. He always wore the most scruffy of clothes, shapeless tee shirts and always those cotton trousers. In his house, he never seemed to brush his hair - it was always this blonde mess going all different ways. At weekends, he never seemed to shave either. He looked really different in his home. At first, I was really surprised - I didn't know if I liked him so much out of work, but quickly I saw he was still as handsome as ever, but only different. Most of the people I know look exactly the same outside of work as in it. I guess I do as well.

One evening, as I was just driving past in my car - there was nothing at all interesting on the television that evening so on the impulse I went for a drive and happened to pass Christopher Waters' house - I saw him in his bedroom. He was walking past his bedroom window dressed only in his underwear, a pair of very tight-fitting white briefs. I was very surprised at how hairy he was, his whole chest and arms and even some of his back was covered in this thick blonde body hair. I guess I wasn't expecting that, I don't know why.

I also got to see what Christopher Waters' wife looked like. She was one of those thin women who always wear clothes to show off their shape. She had masses of long and curly brown hair, which looked a real mess, and she wore make-up. She didn't look very interesting.

I got a really big surprise one Friday. I hadn't followed Christopher Waters home from work that evening. I'd had to go straight back to my home to let the man from the gas company in to read my meter because I had got into a dispute over my last bill, it had been far too big. I went out that evening, just for a drive, and past Christopher Waters' house. At first, I thought he'd already gone out because all the lights were out, but Christopher Waters' car was still parked outside, in the street. I didn't have to wait very long for something to happen, though. Christopher Waters came out of his house, walked really quickly to his car, almost jumped right into it and then drove away. He was dressed in a black leather jacket and faded old jeans, with his hair all slicked down with gel or something. I knew it was stupid and I shouldn't have done it but I followed him. It wasn't easy to do, either, because Christopher Waters drove really fast and I didn't want to keep too close to him in case he noticed me, plus the traffic was bad that evening.

It didn't take us long at all to reach Longman's Common. There, Christopher Waters parked in the car park for the open-air swimming pool. I parked on the far side - actually around the side of the swimming pool itself so he wouldn't see me. Christopher Waters got out of his car and really quickly walked away in the direction of the copse of trees over on the west side of the common. Again, it was a really stupid thing to do, goodness knows, I'd never followed Christopher Waters like this before, but I followed him into that copse of trees. It wasn't that easy to do because it was dark by then and all I could really see of him was his blonde hair.

It took me a while to realise what was actually going on in that copse of trees. Firstly, my eyes had a bit of difficulty adjusting to the really thick darkness in there - my bi-focal glasses always seem to give me problems in the dark. As my eyes adjusted, though, I saw all these different men just standing around and staring at each other. Some walked around really slowly, but mostly they stared at each other. Then I saw that some of the men were pairing off - there only seemed to be men in the copse of trees - and then disappearing off together further into the trees. It took me ages to finally find Christopher Waters: he was standing under this tree and staring at another man. They seemed to stare at each other for ages, then suddenly Christopher Waters walked right up to the other man and kissed him fully on the mouth. I couldn't actually believe what I was seeing - I just stared at them.

When they went off together further off into the trees, right after they stopped kissing, I followed after them, but at a discreet distance of course. They went to this denser part of the trees. They stopped underneath this forked tree. Christopher Waters just leant back against the tree and the other man fell down onto his knees right there in front of Christopher Waters. I couldn't really believe what I saw happening next. The other man actually undid Christopher Waters' jeans and actually performed oral sex on Christopher Waters, right there out in the open. I just stood there and stared at them. I really couldn't believe what was actually happening in front of me, it just wasn't real. I left, and very quickly, after Christopher Waters had finished his business and he and the other man went to trade places. There are some things I didn't want to see.

All the next day, Saturday, as I cleaned my house, as I always do on a Saturday morning, I kept thinking about Christopher Waters and what I had seen the night before. The picture of Christopher Waters and that other man would just spring into my mind without any warning. I just remembered Christopher Waters and that other man. I should have been disgusted by what they did, I know I should have been, but I was just really fascinated by it.

On Monday lunchtime at work, I looked out for Christopher Waters in the canteen. I was well into eating my rather dull vegetable casserole when I finally saw Christopher Waters - he was walking to a table, carrying his usual lunch of a selection from the salad bar, with others from the design department. He was dressed the way he was always was at work: he was wearing his red and green waistcoat which he wears a lot at work, yet as I looked at him, half of me couldn't believe what Christopher Waters had done, what he did the previous Friday. The other half of me just kept remembering what he had done with that other man. I found Christopher Waters fascinating. None of the other men I'd followed previously had had a double life like Christopher Waters.

Naturally, the next Friday I followed Christopher Waters to Longman's Common and that copse of trees there. I dressed all in black, but I'd planned ahead this time. It took Christopher Waters a bit of time to find another man - I guess he was a bit choosy because he took ages just wandering around before he found a man he seemed to like. Then, the two of them wandered off together into a darker part of the copse of trees, so I followed behind them, but I made sure I kept a good distance between them and me - again I didn't want them to see me. They found this quiet and really dark corner of the copse of trees. They kissed but this other man didn't seem that interested in kissing. Christopher Waters then quickly sank down onto his knees amongst all the dead leaves and everything, opened the other man's trousers and started to perform oral sex on him. This time I stayed put and actually watched what Christopher Waters did to that other man. Christopher Waters actually seemed to be enjoying what he was doing. I was really fascinated by that.

The following Friday I was there, following Christopher Waters into that copse of tress on Longman's Common. It was all I could think about all week, especially when I saw Christopher Waters at work or I followed him home, Christopher Waters performing oral sex on that other man and enjoying it. This time Christopher Waters picked up another man really quickly, a big and tall man wearing leather trousers, and again they went off to a dark corner of the copse of trees. Of course, I followed discreetly behind them. I easily found a tree to hide behind when they found a dark spot to have sex, and I watched them quietly. The big, tall man was very passionate and pushed Christopher Waters up against a tree and they had very rough looking sex, but again Christopher Waters really seemed to enjoy it all. After they had finished the big, tall man just pulled up his leather trousers and stomped away through the trees. Christopher Waters took his time, took a while to sort himself out before he walked away. The problem was that Christopher Waters walked away from that corner of the copse of trees right past the tree where I was hiding. I don't know if he saw me or not - I had my face and body hidden behind the tree and didn't look at him, but it scared me. What if he saw me? What would he think? How would he see me? Why would he think I was there?

I waited ages after Christopher Waters had gone before I crept back to my car. Even then I got out of the copse of trees as soon as I could.

I didn't go anywhere near Christopher Waters' house over the whole weekend - I couldn't take the risk. I mean, what if Christopher Waters had seen me at Longman's Common and then he saw me outside his house, what would he think? I didn't have any sort of answer to that, so I stayed well away from Christopher Waters' house. On Sunday, I went straight home from Church.

On Monday morning, when I finally reached work because I had been delayed by yet more roadworks on the bypass, I found everyone, the whole of work, was in turmoil. Everyone was passing around the morning's newspaper, talking but not getting any work done. I soon found out what was happening, people were even gossiping to me, and the secretaries in my department couldn't keep quiet about it.

It seemed on Friday night someone had broken into Christopher Waters' house but had found Christopher Waters' wife there, a fight had broken out and Christopher Waters' wife had been killed. That might have been enough to shock everyone but on Saturday morning the police had arrested Christopher Waters for the murder of his wife. The police said that the burglary had been faked and that he was guilty of the murder. It seemed that Christopher Waters' wife was killed between nine and eleven p.m. and Christopher Waters said he was out for a walk during that time, but he didn't have any witnesses so no one believed him.

Work buzzed with gossip about Christopher Waters for ages. People couldn't believe he was a killer; people speculated on why he did it; people draw all kinds of assumptions; and I kept well out of it. I didn't want to talk to anyone about it, any of it. I felt so confused and mixed up and upset, I didn't know what to do.

Over the next week or so Christopher Waters told the police where he'd actually been that Friday night, having sex with another man on Longman's Common, but still no one believed him because he still had no witnesses. Everyone at work was full of that story, the secretaries in my department were almost having fits about hearing it, people kept going on about how Christopher Waters didn't look the type, how he was a married man, how could he do that with another man and in public, etc… I just kept quiet, kept my head down and did my work.

Christopher Waters' solicitor has appealed for witnesses to Christopher Waters being on Longman's Common that Friday night, but I can't come forward. The police would think I was queer or something, and if I told them the truth - that I was actually following Christopher Waters - I would find myself in serious trouble. When the police cautioned me about Gerry West, they said they'd arrest me if they caught me again. I can't go to prison; I couldn't cope there. Christopher Waters will cope better in prison then me: he knows how to please a man sexually.

Christopher Waters' trial is soon, but I can't do anything about it. I simply can't.