Saturday Night, Part IV

So we're walking to the parking garage. Look, I can I pretty much tell that this guy likes to party - drink a lot, smoke pot a lot. He actually said he likes to smoke pot, to which I said, "Of course you do!", because I always find the pot smokers. He, though, is special because usually they are not also alcoholics. Oh well - I wasn't looking for marriage! I had been trapped at home most of the time for the past month recovering from whatever was ailing me - test results pending. So my purpose was less ... chaste ... than it would be on a date. Plus he was cute and he smelled really good, despite probably having ingested enough booze to knock out a horse. Not that I'm judging.
We're walking to my car, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing or intending to do. Then we're kissing by my car, and it's fun! Some people in a car drove by and hooted at us, they must have been tourists because us Miamians hardly notice that stuff on the beach, so I put my arm out as they backed up (it's a small garage) and gave them a big thumbs up and we continued kissing.
The guy's all like, let's get in your car. I mean, I know why he wants to, but I don't see it as a comfortable option and I'm not gonna do much of anything in the backseat of a car. He may be 27 going on 19, but I'm 29 going on too-old-for-this, so I have my limits. But then I said fine, we'll get in my car. I didn't let him do much, so then he sat back and started massaging my foot, but he had his back to the door and I had my back to the other door, my foot on his chest, so you can imagine how that looked, and these two guys are walked by and stared in at us, so I waved to them. I mean, I was having fun, enjoying a light situation! Honestly, I know it was all really odd- but odd is what happens at 2 in the morning with people you hardly know.
We were getting all sweaty because, despite the nice outdoor air, we were fooling around in the backseat of my car in Miami in April. I opened my window a little. Then he said we could go to his place and he's give me a massage.
You think I said no? Of course you don't. I knew what I was doing, more or less. I am, after all, 29-going-on-too-old-for-this.