Law and Order

She drove us to our usual deserted sandy spot near the docks. We both lived with our respective conservative parents and sex in the house was out of the question. Also, fucking in a car really turned us on. We both got into the backseat and our clothes were off faster than on prom night. It was incredibly illegal to do this, but my bloodflow was not directed towards my brain at the moment. We were interrupted by the sudden flashing of red and blue lights and we scrambled to get our clothes on before the cop walked up towards our window and knocked on it. I rolled the glass down and he asked me what we were doing.

“Just sitting and talking, officer. Is everything okay?”. Kindergarten nativity plays have better acting.

“Get out of the car, both of you”, he said, the headlights of the patrol car illuminated his long shiny beard and disapproving frown.

“You know what you are doing is not allowed in the country, right? This is a serious offence. Go stand over there”, he ordered pointing to a spot 10 feet away from our car and asked her to stand near the car.

He was a rookie cop, probably in his first year, trying to make the streets better. An older policeman in a more formal uniform stepped out of the patrol car. He was a little too relaxed, almost as if he just got a massage and said hello to us in a tone that was far too exuberant for comfort. He sauntered over to our white camry and leaned against the rear door, right next to her and started chatting her up. It was almost as if he thought this whole exercise was a waste of his time and he might as well talk to a cute girl while he was at it.

The rookie moved towards me and gave me a monologue about law, morality, and the consequences of straying past their boundaries. It was ironic. I was getting torn a new one by puritanical Nick Fury while she was getting to chill with the Dude from the Big Lebowski backstage at a Norah Jones concert. I’ve never been to a Norah Jones concert or even know if she performs them, but if she does, it would be a lot like this.

Despite his calm demeanor and interest in her life, she was incredibly tense. If you looked closely, you could see her legs shiver. He asked her if she liked in here and she started to wax poetic about the virtues of the country and how it was home for her and her whole family. About the vision of its leaders, and how it became the paradise it is today. I felt an immense sense of patriotism for a country that wasnt mine. I could swear I saw falcons flying overhead clutching the national flag while singing the national anthem in bird language.It was glorious. A tear may have rolled down my left eye.

Soviet propoganda writers had nothing on her.

The rookie ran our ID’s through his system, warned us to never repeat it again and got back in his car. The veteran turned to the both of us and whispered right out of the rookies earshot — “Next time, just switch your engine off”. He winked, turned around and drove away.

Did we just get express permission to fuck in public from a policeman, or was that just friendly advice? Nevertheless, we didn’t stick around to find out, or go back there ever again.

Perhaps I didn’t fully comprehend the gravity of the situation or perhaps I’m still confused, but to this day, every time a patrol car drives past me with its sirens blaring, I get really, really, turned on.