Back Seat, Windows Up

This story is from Emma, a 28-year-old teacher in Boston, as told to Raz:

The school that I work at has an annual retreat for all employees, and for whatever reason, the men go to one location and the women to another. Ours was in New Hampshire, about an hour and a half from Boston.

On our first night, a bunch of us decided to get sloppy at a bar near our hotel. Before long, I met Jake, who lived in the area.  We hit it off right away, and I decided that he would make a perfect retreat hookup. Only one problem—I was sharing my room with two co-workers. My roommates were spying on our prolonged conversation and excessive arm touching, and when Jake slipped off to the bathroom, they approached and announced that they would totally be willing to be sexiled for the night.

I laughed, and said no, even though I secretly wanted to say yes. I couldn’t do that to them! There would literally be nowhere else for them to go.

Jake made it clear, through several barely masked sexual innuendos, that he was on the same page as I was in terms of wanting to find somewhere a little more private. And I briefly considered going back to his place. But the idea of a stranger’s apartment in a town I didn’t know freaked me out. Plus, we had an early morning the next day.

Suddenly, he had an idea. We headed to his car, and went straight to the back seat. It was steamy, if a little cramped. When things were really starting to get hot and heavy, we heard a bang on the window, and bright light poured into the car. Once our eyes adjusted, we saw the man behind the flashlight—a police officer.

Panic flooded through me as Jake rolled the window down. Would I get arrested? I was here for work—would I lose my job?

Luckily, the cop had a (somewhat perverse) sense of humor, and after stringing us along for what felt like a decade, let us off with a warning. I ran back to my co-workers.

Jake was apparently not as shocked by the whole situation as I was, and never got the memo that he was only a vacation hook up. Though I never saw him again that weekend, he has consistently begged me to return ever since. He says he’s got the perfect bar picked out for our next date. I told him I didn’t think anything could top the location he chose for our first. But if I ever do find myself back in New Hampshire, and looking to live on the wild side, I know just who to call.