“Hey… you want a blowjob?”

This happened about ten years ago. I was still in college, and I was going into Kmart to check my hours for the upcoming weekend. Apparently I was looking particularly in need of oral sex as I walked across the parking lot, because a rusty rattletrap of a car slowly rolled along the fire lane in front of the store and stopped directly in front of me. An unshaven man in his late forties stared at me from the driver’s seat. He looked sick, or at least in very poor health. He may have been drunk.

I couldn’t possibly have heard that sentence correctly. He had quietly mumbled the words, barely making eye contact with me.

“What?”

Turns out I had heard him correctly.

“You want a blowjob?”

“No!” I yelled. “Get out of here before I call the cops!”

Without saying another word, he turned to face forward and took off at the same creeping speed. I stood and watched him go, walked into the store, checked my hours, told a few coworkers the story, got a few incredulous laughs, and headed back to my car.

My imagination, spurred by my vast knowledge of criminal behavior (gleaned from TV crime dramas), started niggling at me at this point. What if this part of an escalation of behavior? What if he starts going further with this? Could he be a rapist? What if he is already?

Damn it. I guess I should call the cops.

I called and gave them a description of the man, his car, the time, my location, and so on. The dispatcher asked would I mind giving a statement to a police officer, and I said no. I waited for twenty minutes, and finally the cop arrived.  I started to give him the same story I’d told the dispatcher. As I was midway through my description of the man’s death trap rustbucket, I saw a familiar car drive onto the lot.

“That’s him,” I said, pointing. “That’s his car.”

“Him?” The cop seemed surprised and confused. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, that’s the guy!”

The cop told me to wait, hopped into his car, and began a no-speed pursuit. He followed the car at the same leisurely pace.  No lights or siren. I’m sure the guy knew what was going on by then, but apparently thought better of going above 15mph.

I sat back down on my hood and waited. The cop slowly followed the car out of the parking lot, out of sight, and then came into view a few minutes later.  They rounded the very large commercial block of the Kmart, maintaining their weirdly sedate pace. I suppose the cop was running the car’s license plate and getting info on its occupant. They once again drove out of view. Eventually, a second cop drove onto the parking lot and walked up to me. They’d pulled the guy over on a side street close by, and would I feel comfortable IDing him? Sure.  No problem.

The second cop apologized that I couldn’t be allowed to sit in the front seat of his cruiser, and opened the back for me. I was disappointed–I wanted to see all of their cool cop toys–but got in and sat on the hard plastic bench. As he drove us less than a block, he explained that I shouldn’t say anything to the guy. Just walk up, confirm it was the same guy, and come back to the car. The second cop let me out and I walked up to the stopped car, feeling slightly nervous despite knowing I was safe.

It was past dusk by this time, and the red and blue strobes from the two squad cars made the man look even more haggard than he had in the parking lot. I remember that he didn’t look angry, or even scared. When he looked back at me, he just looked miserable, sad, and defeated. I walked back to the second cop’s car and confirmed his identity. Someone who read the local paper’s police blotter told me that he was charged with disturbing the peace, or disorderly conduct, or some other generic charge.

Was the guy creepy? Sure. Offering blowjobs to strangers in a Kmart parking lot is a weird thing to do, and I hope the experience scared him enough to not repeat it. But in the end, I just feel sorry for him. I can only assume he was gay and deeply closeted, and thought his idiotic ploy might work without anyone ever finding out. I hope he’s either come out of the closet by now, or is at least anonymously fucking strangers from Craigslist. I certainly hope he’s offered his last parking lot blowjob. Being closeted does terrible things to people.