Soft Footsteps Follow Close Behind

You know what it's like when you're walking home late at night and there's a young woman about 20 metres in front of you. No-one else. You think, 'I'll just hurry up a bit and pass her'. After all she's walking slower than you and you're catching her up. So you hurry up but she hears your hastening footsteps and hurries up too so than after a moment she's 20 metres in front again. OK, so you slow down a bit and let her get ahead but she slows down too. She's knows when to hurry up or slow down so that the 20 metre gap remains.
Then she turns round to face you. You can't stop so you look at your feet, not wanting to catch her gaze. When you're about 5 metres away she suddenly asks you if you're following her.
'I don't know,' you reply. 'Where are you going?' It's meant to be a light-hearted remark, to break the obvious tension.
She scrabbles for her phone and threatens to phone the polis if you keep following her but you tell her you're not following her, you're going home. OK, she says, but do you mind walking on the other side of the road? Why don't you walk on the other side of the road? you ask. Fuck off you fucking pervert, she says. No need for that, you say. I'm phoning the police, she threatens. OK, you say, and tell them what? That a guy who's walking home just happens to be using the same pavement as you? Then, to your great relief she spots a taxi, flags it down and fucks off...
Never actually happened but it's the sort of thing I worry about...