One of my knees was on top of his cup-holder, and the other was pressed against the back seat. My breath was still coming out in shallow gasps, and I could see his face looming in the darkened car. The windows were tinted, but did nothing to ease my paranoia at the idea of sex in the middle of a mall parking lot. He unzipped my jeans, and I flopped awkwardly out of them like a goldfish on a kitchen counter. He was wearing sweatpants, so he had less trouble, but his motions gave me the sense that it was a familiar process.