The Senses: Touch — or, A Perv Moment


When I got on the Q train, right away I noticed an attractive woman seated in one of those perpendicular benches by the window. I ended up sitting near her, in one of the seats built along the side wall of the train, so she was looking right at me, in profile. I had gotten just a glimpse of her when I came in and had this weird desire to look at her again, but I couldn’t do it without being obvious. So I pulled out something and began reading. Of course, I was intensely conscious of her presence, whether or not she was looking at me, or what I was reading. (It was the latest issue of The Washington Spectator.) I found it really hard to concentrate because I became obsessed with this mystery person. What did she look like? Was she pretty? Did she wear glasses? What color was her hair? And did she even notice I existed?

Anyway, after going over the Manhattan Bridge, we arrived at Canal Street, and she got off, without a second glance at me. As she exited, I finally got to eyeball her: pretty, dark hair, glasses. But, just to make sure she had really been there, I impulsively reached out my hand to her seat and touched it.

It was still warm.

0 thoughts on “The Senses: Touch — or, A Perv Moment

  1. Robert Crumb would have made a lovingly rendered 8 page story out of the experience, and I’m expecting no less of you. (ha) Thanks for sharing.
    Truffaut’s first short film was about boys who sniff an older girl’s bicycle seat. I guess that sort of thing is an accepted part of the culture in Europe.

  2. Pervy, but I know of worse.
    Hot summer days, walking slow so that girl with the very short skirt can walk
    up the subway step ahead of me…
    Did I just write that out loud?
    Oh well, I’m sure Dean’s done this more than once…right?

  3. this is the kind of story that really deserves to be a comic… and it seems kind of romantic to me, too.
    or am i really just a dirty old man?

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