The crosstown foot traffic is heavier than usual. Ten blocks to go and almost every step I bump or jostle against the people moving in my direction or against it, or crossing my path at some angle. I keep my eyes fixed on the next intersection, waiting for my building to come into view, pausing for the walk light when necessary. I move slowly but steadily - the lights are going my way and I flow on with and in the crowd. Only gradually do I realize that the constant small collisions with other people are almost always against certain parts of my body.

I barely see the perpetrators, but my chest, and legs, and rear end get the most prods or brief sweeping contacts. I'm never sure if hands are reaching for me intentionally or whether it's all simply coincidence. I keep pushing forward resolutely, trying to quicken my pace.

I almost trip and fall the first time a hand reaches between my legs to press briefly against my crotch before sweeping up and away, I whip my head around to see who did it, but all I see are more nondescript faces coming and going. I'm gently but firmly pushed forward by hand cupping the left cheek of my ass. I stumble forward casting the other direction to see who did _that_, and find only people going this way and that, ignoring me or treating me as if I were just another obstacle to get around. Fingers brush around my left breast over my blouse and try to pull me forward by a quickly pinched nipple. I barley catch a hand retreating into the crowd as I propel myself forward.

The touches become more bold gropes and pokes. I can avoid or deflect some that I see, but others get through, especially the attacks coming from behind. I try to break through, but he crowd doesn't let me get off to the side of the sidewalk or move faster than a brisk walk. My blouse has come un-tucked, and hands have made it underneath to rub against the skin of my sides, back, and stomach.

Block after block, the fondling gets more aggressive and intimate. Halfway to my destination, I hit my first Don't Walk pause, and stand for a few moments pressed in a near gridlock of people - half waiting to cross the street, the other half wending by right to left with the light. It is here I feel a hand press against my lower back and slide rapidly downward, under the waist band of my shorts to pinch my rear through my panties before disappearing. I almost can't turn to see the perpetrator, much less stop him, but as my eyes cast about for him, another hand caresses up the inside of my right, into my shorts and almost digs under my panties before I flinch away.

I have nowhere to escape except my final destination. I've got to make it there!