This is the story of how I almost got myself arrested while on spring
break… how typical right?
Yet this is not the typical story of the “Girls Gone Wild” spring break trip to Florida, Cancun, or some other warm place where booze, bikinis, boobs, and boys abound that you might expect.
I spent my spring break in Baltimore, Maryland. This single week was the first time, in a long time, that I found myself to be happy and I was ready to take full advantage of that. I met a lot of really great people and did a lot of fun things, but the absolute highlight, and cause for this story, did not come until my last night in Maryland.
I spent my weeks with Buns, a friend who I have had a fairly tumultuous relationship with in the past. An aside about Buns and why I’ve chosen to call him this: this man has the kind of ass that any man or woman would be undoubtedly be envious of, and I am in fact included among this jealous population. Buns and I had spent the week together learning that there was something hard to ignore between us… and included in this “something” was undeniably great sex. We explored the city and best of all we explored each other.
Somehow, on my last evening in Maryland, the need and desire for penetration was great enough to silence the rational part of me that I hope might have stepped up to say “this might not be the best idea…” But no such warning emerged, so when the suggestion for car sex came up (though I expressed some brief hesitancy) I was more looking forward to it than not. And so Buns and I found ourselves taking an evening drive, perusing the streets in his Chevy Impala looking for just the right spot. We even took special care and consideration in our search, we did not settle for the first place that seemed suitable, but instead engaged in a more thorough search. As I sat in the passenger seat next to him I was giddy and anxious; any reservations had long since left my mind. Finally it seemed we had found just the place: an empty parking lot at the far end of an out of the way park in a quiet residential neighborhood. Perfect.
We wasted no time before climbing into the back seat and discarding any unnecessary clothing items to the floor. It was a slightly chilly March evening so my top half remained snuggled into Buns’ hoodie as he slid his large erection between my thighs. The thrill of the circumstances no doubt added to the experience. After a fair amount of excited and steamy penetration, the only thing left to finish was the clean up. Just as this was complete (pants still off mind you) I could very clearly see headlights coming towards the car from just over Buns’ left shoulder…
“Oh shit.” He mutters after looking behind him. I sink a little lower against the cold seat, thinking maybe I can hide. I lie there frozen; he must surely be teasing me. As Buns proceeds to pull his pants back on, I am still utterly frozen, not knowing what to do or what to think. It’s only after he gets out of the car and I hear the murmur of more than one voice outside that I fully realize that we have a situation. I scramble, with great difficulty, to get my pants on.
**Tip: if you’re going to have sex in a car, plan your wardrobe accordingly. Skinny jeans are very challenging to get on in a hurry and in small confines. I definitely do not recommend this choice.
I timidly open the car door and an unfamiliar voice greets me. “You got your pants on?”
“Of course!” I say innocently.
“What’s your name Miss?” Once I step out of the car I am utterly shocked to see not just one, but one female and two male police officers. Three… really? This seems a little excessive to me. Buns is standing near the two police cars with the female officer and the other male officer. I cling to the Impala’s open back door for support as I find myself untrusting of my trembling legs.
“How old are you?” This man asks me.
“Ummm…. 23?” I’m not sure why I had to think about this one, but I’m guessing it only added confidence to the officer’s next question.
“Can I see your ID please?”
I give a nervous chuckle. “I- uh… didn’t bring it with me.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“January 28.” No hesitation this time. I was proud.
“… Of what year…?”
Oops. That was only a half-pass. I supplied him with the year as my heart was beginning to pound more and more loudly in my ears.
The officer stands near the open car door, looking at me skeptically for a moment but his next question must have been pressing enough that he willing to over look my previous hesitancy and half-answers. “Do you want to be here with guy?” He asks, nodding his head in the direction where Buns stood with the other officers.
Oh boy. I thought. But what escaped my lips was more nervous laughter. I quickly bit my lip to control this and managed to slip out a “Yeah. I do.”
As the officer is writing down my information, the scratching of his pen slows and then stops. His eyes travel up from his notepad, but they’re not on me. He’s looking passed me as I am beginning to fear my legs might give way beneath me. His head tilts to the side and the expression on his face changes dramatically. “What’s that on the floor there?” He demands in a stern tone. My stomach sinks. I have no idea what he is referring to. So I ask him. “Where?”
“There on the floor of the car. What is that?” He persists. There are several things on the floor of Buns car but nothing I can immediately identify as being as offensive as what the tone in the officer’s voice would indicate. So I stay silent, not knowing how to answer, as my eyes frantically search for what I think will only lead to our immediate arrest.
And then the officer clears his throat, and in a terse voice he clarifies. “That. Hat.”
I released the breath I had been holding inside my chest. The hat? Is he really asking me about a hat?? I was confused. “The hat?” I clarified. “It’s a part of his uniform.”
“What uniform?” He presses.
“His work uniform?” I’m still not seeing the point in this line of questioning.
“Where does he work?”
And so I explained to the officer that Buns works as a security officer. It was now his turn to let out a sigh of relief as he went on to tell me that the police force has very similar hats for their uniforms and so he had immediately thought that Buns was a fellow officer, which was the cause for alarm.
After this my officer and I walked away from the Impala and joined the others. The female officer was given my information so she could call it in and make sure that everything I had told them checked out. As the female officer repeated my name several times into the walkie, the other male officer gave me a peculiar look. The next thing out of his mouth was: “Are you Asian?” I am again, very confused by these officers. Standing there with my very blonde hair and green eyes I tell this man, that no, I am not Asian. He goes on to explain that somehow, my name made him think I might be.
As I stood next to Buns with the two male officers, the tone became increasingly lighter despite my continued nervousness and confusion. The expected additional questions slowly trickled forth as to why we had not chosen a better, more responsible, location for our sexual escapades. I still continued to be tense as the mood continued to lighten to the point where it almost seemed as though we being teased by these men. Finally, one of the officers begins to chuckle. He goes on to say, “Ah heck, I can’t really blame you kids, I was young once too.”
And then they let us go.
As we got back into the Impala and pulled away from the scene of the crime, Buns turns to look at me with a big smile on his face. “I told you the country PD were cool.” I rolled my eyes at the familiar statement I had already heard come out of his mouth a number of times during the week as I had previously scolded him for speeding or other traffic infractions. As what had just happened, including the humor behind many of the questions we had been asked, quickly began to sink in, it was impossible for Buns and I to contain our laughter and amusement… as well as our distinct delight that at the very least we had gotten to finish before the cops showed up.
Valentine’s Day. Candy, cards, and flowers only
wordplayforeplay 