The Voyeur

On the video surveillance I could see him pulling something heavy in a suitcase. Voyeurism being my occupation. I was working up a frothy foam, so I let it unfold without alerting the police. Nights shift - solitude I pitched my web and caught a fly. The grainy image casting a technological twist to my amusement. Oblivious to my observation - a Pervert stalks the pervert but I had the Godeyed - view. He dragged the case along tracking out a sticky substance like a huge black slug stopping for moment to catch a breath, before continuing.

My head delirious with thoughts of a pale corpse naked or in pieces perhaps.

Doggers - dead women in ditches, depravity in a word. This excited me.

Mutely he crossed a back alley slum. Record. I watched. I sweated.

Open the fucking case, I muttered, zooming in for my money shot, a dismembered Mary I was hunched in prayer. He unzipped the large suitcase, almost knowingly, almost seductive.

The contents spilled out in a glossy sheen of pornographic pulped magazines - spunk spattered sex-toys, dildos etc. But oh no stiff cadaver.

Anticlimax - my moment ruined. I sat limp and indignant – depressed.

I informed the powers to be, reporting him for fly-tipping and gross indecency. He was later arrested not far from the scene.

Discharged. Humiliated. Court order. Case-closed, I hope, I thought vindictively.