Groped on St. Marks

Yesterday after brunch at Orlin (one of my favoritist brunch spots) with Natalie, Laura and Laura's pal from LA, we strolled over to those cheesy street vendors near that Gem spa news stand/egg cream place on the corner of St. Marks - Natalie wanted to look at the sunglasses. She tried a few pairs on; us gals gave thumbs up or thumbs down, the booth proprietors told her she looked great in every single pair she put on. They were Indian, these proprietors. There were two of them at the first booth we stopped by: a middle aged fellow and a younger one, maybe early twenties.

Now, I know I have a provocative tattoo. I expect some staring, cat-calling, perhaps direct questions as to the provenance. What I don't expect, and can't allow, is for a fucking strange sunglasses-selling St. Marks street vendor to TOUCH it. Oh yes, I got a little too close to where the younger one was standing as I helped Natalie find styles to try on. He caressed my Valentina, and marveled at her. I made a bit of a face and inched away. He stood nearby, then disappeared, presumably to help some other folks. BUT NO. He disappeared from beside me and then came up behind me to once again caress Valentina, on the sly! This time I was actually startled since I didn't see it coming. I made whatever kind of noise one makes when thoroughly startled by inappropriate touching, turned around, said "That's enough," and walked away.

Natalie didn't find any sunglasses, and thank god - they had slapped "UVA protection 400" on each and every lens, including the clear ones...