Hidden in the car behind the shopping centre

I was not looking for trouble, but the chat became addictive. We agreed on “five minutes” in a car park at a shopping centre in London. I got into his car, he kissed me as if he had been waiting for weeks and slid a hand under my skirt. He touched me carefully while we watched the mirror, and I came shaking against the seat. Then I climbed on top, quick and quiet, the seatbelt against my back. It was dirty, risky and addictive. I went home smelling of his cologne, guilt mixed with pleasure. I know it is wrong. I also know I will message him again. In London it is easy to vanish into the traffic and pretend nothing happened.