She was so close, when she appeared goddess-like in front of me, that I could have touched her and she dragged me along the sidewalk in a cloud of sexy and no doubt expensive perfume.
Having almost knocked me over when she flounced out of the shop, I felt no obligation to drop back, so maintained my position, and began to enjoy my walk.
After a few yards, my goddess let out a piercing scream and leapt in the air. The whole street came to a stop, shopkeepers ran to their doors and everyone looked at the woman … and then at me.
I raised my hands and stuttered my innocence and to make thing worse she screamed again and fled across the street.
Car horns blared and sirens would be next.
The hostile, accusing eyes of once friendly shoppers bore into me. What did you do? Pervert!
Thank god I wasn’t wearing a raincoat ...
People began edging towards me and a couple of tourists pointed their camera phones.
Then I looked down and there, swishing its tail, sat the biggest iguana I have ever seen. It was beautifully marked, its skin rippling with changing shades of iridescent green. Its false eye was the size of a saucer and as it slowly turned its massive head, it puffed its barrel chest in and out like the bellows in a forge.
On the far side of the street my erstwhile goddess, clutching her stilettos to her breasts with one hand and fanning herself with the other, was being comforted by a shopkeeper.
The iguana took a step in her direction and she shrieked and ran in terror, exonerating me of all wrong doing.
The street returned to normal. Well, as normal as it can be in Marigot.