Deflowered

Easter Sunday, I am in Dolores Park with Lilycat and Raina, Lady Monster and a couple of other people (who's names I've forgotten). The Sister's of Perpetual Indulgence are hosting their yearly camp fest. The sun is hot, and I leave the park in search of a Bloody Mary. I walk up 18th Street, away from the park. A black woman who looks homeless stops me. "Look at those thighs," she says, "Can I touch your thigh?" She's serious. It's a strange request. I am kind of confused for a minute. I acquiese. I thought maybe its one of those things girls do, like go to the bathroom together. She starts softly caressing the delicate, milky skin of my inner thigh. But she doesn't stop. She keeps touching, and caressing and kneading. I get uncomfortable quickly, and step away. She steps with me, and massages my leg. She won't let go, literally grabbing the thigh at the same time massaging it. I delicately invite her to stop, but she doesn't. I'm dumbfounded. I'm used to people randamly touching me. I've been physically cornered and felt up on a number of occassions. But I've never had a woman be so aggressive. Finally, I get a bit more assertive and physcially stop her. "Beautiful," she says.