It was supposed to be just a casual night out to blow off some steam after a long week with family. My cousin and I had booked a hotel near the airport since we both had flights early the next day. But as soon as Friday night rolled around, I felt that familiar itch. My cousin was totally out of the game, already half asleep, but I wasn’t about to waste a last night in town. I decided to go out solo—after all, what could go wrong?
I threw on my best party outfit and headed to a bar I’d found nearby. The first place I hit was an intense goth club. Pale faces, dark makeup, eerie music—not exactly the vibe I’d had in mind for a light-hearted, last-hurrah kind of night. After a few awkward minutes, I decided this place wasn’t for me and headed out, hoping my next stop would be a bit more promising.
The next bar was loud, crowded, and everything I’d been hoping for. The band was electric, the drinks were strong, and the crowd was buzzing with energy. I grabbed a drink, letting myself melt into the atmosphere. It wasn’t long before I caught the eye of a girl across the bar. She looked like she was there for the same reason I was: a good time and no expectations.
We started chatting, both clearly on the same page about letting loose. She introduced herself, laughing as she tried to keep up with my drinking pace. After a few shots, she told me her friends were upstairs with the DJ and invited me to join them. We hit the stairs, slightly wobbly and fully caught up in the chaos. The bass was deep, the lights flashing—this was the vibe I’d been searching for.
Her friends were welcoming, and it didn’t take long for us all to start dancing, laughing, and ordering even more drinks. Somewhere between the shots and the music, we were in full-on party mode, dancing close and leaning in to talk over the blaring music. Soon, she whispered to me, “Let’s get out of here and find another bar.” With last call looming, I agreed without hesitation.
We and her friends moved on to a nearby dive. By now, the drinks had hit hard, and I was feeling a deep, buzzing kind of drunk. We kept the drinks flowing, and it wasn’t long before her friend suggested an afterparty at his place. The night was nowhere near over.
We all piled into a car, her friends in the front, with her and me in the back seat, sharing glances and drunken laughter. By the time we got to the house, her friends spilled out of the car immediately, but she hung back, motioning for me to stay with her. In the dim light of the back seat, she leaned into me, and soon we were fully making out, hands tangled in each other’s hair. It felt like we were the only two people left in the world.
Things heated up, fast. One thing led to another, and we were getting more serious—her hands sliding inside my shirt, mine tracing her bare skin, moving further with a mix of excitement and inhibition. She looked at me with a mischievous grin and went down, starting a sloppy, intense BJ that left me half-laughing from the absurdity of this random night out. But after about a minute, I noticed she was slowing down… and then, she completely stopped.
A bit concerned, I mumbled, “Everything okay down there?” Silence. I glanced down, and to my total disbelief, realized she’d fallen asleep with my, uh, situation still very much in her mouth. I stifled a laugh, not even sure how to react. Here I was, partially undressed, with a random girl passed out mid-BJ in my lap in the backseat of her friend’s car. This was definitely not what I’d pictured for the night.
After a few nudges, she stirred, eyes heavy with sleep. She looked up at me, slurred an apology, saying, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—I’m just sooo drunk.” We both laughed, but then she tried to pick up where she left off, only to slump over again. At that point, I’d resigned myself to the fact that the night had taken an unexpected turn. My buzz was wearing off, replaced by a hilarious sense of disbelief. I started wondering how I’d get back to the hotel from this random suburban street, hoping I could call a cab at this hour.
Just as I was about to climb out of the car, my heart dropped as flashing lights caught my eye. A cop was walking toward us, flashlight in hand, and I was half-undressed, with her head still resting on my lap. I froze, knowing this couldn’t look good.
The officer knocked on the window, gesturing for me to step out. I scrambled out of the car, trying to explain myself while frantically pulling my clothes back on. “Officer, it’s not what it looks like!” I managed to blurt out, only to realize that sounded like the exact thing someone would say in a situation like this. To make things even worse, she woke up, took one look at the cop, and started laughing.
The officer looked at the two of us, then asked, “Did she… fall asleep mid-blowjob?” His question caught me so off-guard that I couldn’t help but laugh. The tension broke, and she, still barely awake, started explaining in slurred words that she’d just been too drunk to keep going.
The cop, now chuckling himself, shook his head. “You know, in all my years on the job, this is definitely a first.” After a moment, he asked if I needed a ride somewhere. I told him about my hotel, still not sure whether I was actually getting a lift from a cop or just imagining this whole surreal situation.
So there I was, riding shotgun in a police car, still buzzed, reflecting on how the night had spiraled from casual drinks to a half-naked run-in with the law. As he dropped me off, the officer chuckled and said, “Just think—you’ll have a hell of a story to tell someday.”
And with that, I made my way back to the hotel, buzzing with laughter and disbelief, knowing this night would be one for the ages.
