Sexcapades: Office, cinema, or park sex?

It’s late afternoon on a warm summers’ day in London where I have been living for the last two years. I am alone in the office and wrapping up work for the day when the girl I am seeing rings the buzzer. [Redacted], a sultry Peruvian, is early for our date so I let her in and show her around. When we get to my office she motions to my desk with her head and with a sly smile suggests that we christen my workstation.  

“What!” I blurt out. “In here? No way! What if someone finds us!” I am half relieved and half kicking myself when she doesn’t push it further.  

We walk the short distance to the underground where we catch a Picadilly Line train to Leicester Square. The evening is warm and bright as we grab a bite to eat and head into the cinema. Playing tonight is an artsy French black comedy featuring a butcher, vegetarian rebels, a flooded bathroom, and creaky bed springs. Halfway through the film [Redacted] whispers an offer to perform the act that Alanis Morrisette mentions in her song ‘You Oughta Know’. Suddenly the half empty cinema feels claustrophobically crowded and the once pitch-black darkness seems like broad daylight. I mutter something about needing to go to the bathroom and stumble out of my seat and up the stairs.  

After the film we head outside where the night is starry and the air humid. The film and the summer temperature have our libidos on an upward curve and a couple of beers have done wonders for my inhibitions. We climb over a low fence onto the grassy area of a typical central London park. A thick stand of trees offers shelter from prying eyes. We undo each other’s clothes and are about to make up for lost opportunities when a torch beam cuts through the dark.  

“Oyyy, get outta there! You can’t do that here!” yells the park security guard.  

We hurriedly pull up our loosened clothing and sheepishly exit stage left.  

With it being a Thursday night and as neither of us are prepared for an overnight stay or willing to wear the same clothes to work tomorrow, we reluctantly call it a night. I watch from the top of the escalator as [Redacted] slowly descends to catch her Northern Line train. When she is out of sight I turn and walk through the tunnels to the Central Line wondering about what might have been.