Fly-by Groping

Pondicherry Groping – India

It all happened very quickly – the sound of a moped, the sense of someone close behind me, the arse squeeze and the getaway.

I was in shock, was that an accident? He turned his vehicle round and came back to look at my reaction, he was grinning. He had a big-fat-smarmy smile slapped across his face, this was no mistake – I really had been the victim of a fly-by groping.

Unable to speak, confused and in disbelief that what had just happened could possibly had happened, it was Sophie, who, terrier-like who sprung forwards into the road and gave chase to the man, screaming abuse.

It was too late; he was off and within seconds out of sight. I was touched – literally of course – but also metaphorically; it was the first time that Sophie had taken the reins and fought on my behalf. I hugged and thanked her.

‘Fucking bastard,’ she muttered; her face puce, ‘the way women are treated is wrong, plain wrong. What a fucking sick bastard.’