It was the mid 60s and I was 15, travelling home to our little east midlands village on the last bus of the day (about 8pm!). There were very few people on the bus and, just before it left the bus station, a middle-aged man from the village got on and immediately sat next to me despite all the empty seats around. I barely knew him although I knew his name was Mick* and he'd done a few odd jobs for my dad.
He reeked of stale beer, unwashed body and cigarettes so , politely, I asked him to move adding as an excuse that I had a cold which I wouldn't want him to catch. He dismissed this, said(slurred) that being in company and enjoying the craic was more important than a few cold germs. I couldn't ask the conductor for help because our buses had recently gone over to one-man operation.
For the whole 30 minute journey, he kept up a one-sided conversation full of innuendo and lewd references and I was squirming with embarrassment. The few other passengers got off in intermediate villages and by the time we reached our village, Mick and I were the only ones left.
The way home from the bus terminus was up a quiet lane with houses set well back from the road. Mick lived with his girlfriend in a house about halfway along the lane, I lived at the further end.
Of course, he wanted to walk with me and by this time was droning on about how much he enjoyed photography and would love to take my picture and, if I wanted, I could bring my friend Nina* and he'd photograph the two of us in our beach gear ... I wasn't saying anything, just wanting to get home and away from the creep.
Suddenly, in the darkest part of the lane, he turned and lunged at me, mumbling, "Gissa kiss, gorgeous," shoving his stubbly face into mine. I pushed him away and told him to give over but he made another lunge and managed a clumsy kiss (yeeeuk) while grabbing my right breast with one hand.
That was it! I didn't stop to think, just did what my mother had told me to do and brought my knee up hard and fast.
I must have hit the right spot because he doubled over, clutching himself and howling. As I walked briskly away, he sobbed something about what was he going to do now? So I told him his best bet was to go and explain to his girlfriend why he was in that state while I went home and told my dad.
We moved to another part of the country not long after and I didn't tell my dad for nearly 30 years! One day, we were idly chatting about life in that village and some of the people we had known. Dad asked if I remembered Mick and I said only too well and told him about the incident. To my astonishment, he burst out laughing and said he'd been wondering for years what he had done to upset Mick - who had suddenly stopped acknowledging him and would cross the road if he saw Dad coming!
I've never used my knee since although I have slapped an office bum-pincher, publicly called loud attention to a groper on a bus and lambasted a much older male colleague whose behaviour was making two 16 year old new girls very distressed.
I don't tolerate fools gladly and lechers and gropers not at all.
*Not their real names.