My Creepy Hookup With A Secret Service Agent
The Secret Service scandal doesn’t surprise me, having had my own sketchy hookup with an agent.
When news of the Secret Service sex scandal broke last week, many were shocked that men assigned to protect our nation’s leaders would behave as anything but complete gentlemen. But I wasn’t surprised. I, too, had hooked up with a Secret Service agent once upon a time—and it was also sketchy.
It was early fall 2005. I was a recently-turned 24-year-old who had just moved back to Arlington, Virginia, after a bad breakup with a dashing Australian. Since my return, I had fallen into the habit of going out. A lot. And getting very drunk. And often playing quite the tease. I would see how many drinks I could get a man to buy me and my friends… and then see how fast I could slip away before he noticed.
I was, I guess, into using men. Not for sex, but for a laugh, a drink, or—in the case of the Secret Service agent—a free ride home.
It was closing time at The Reef in Adams Morgan and my three girlfriends and I were, well, wasted. As is usually the case, the young, drunk girls were not alone at closing time. We had attracted the attention of several men, one of whom we learned lived in Arlington.
His looks were forgettable. 28, maybe? 30? He was a solid rectangle of a man with short, dark hair on a square head. Tall, but not too tall. Dressed in slacks and a button down shirt, I remember him now only as a blur of black, white and beige.
“Would you like to share a taxi over the bridge?” he asked.
He lived conveniently close to my parents’ house, on one of those hidden suburban Northern Virginia side streets. We could always just jump and run once we got close, I thought.
“You can just drop me off at the corner and take the cab,” he said. It was a deal.
Only the cab never stopped at that corner, a fact that we failed to notice until we had pulled up to his house.
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