7-9: You succeed, but it will cost you (your stuff)

"Alright, Miss," the cop says to you, his tone a masterpiece of condescension. "Can I go ahead and see some identification? I think you may not have realized just what was going on, but I had better have a few words with you about it anyway. I have a gay niece, I'm not judging you, but the law is the law, and I think we need to come to some kind of understaAAAAHHH HEY, GET BACK HERE! STOP!"

It suddenly occurs to you that one of the most obvious downsides of being a hooker like that lovely girl you just got to taste is that you are expected to wear stiletto heels even though you always need to be ready to book it and run. Luckily, you are a modern, liberated co-ed, and you do just fine advertising your sexual availability while wearing pink tennis shoes from hot topic. Whirling around on your heel and making sure you grab your purse you dash like a woman possessed towards the other end of the alley.

You've seen this maneuver 100 times in live-action superhero dramas. You'll throw yourself at the chain link fence closing off the alley, vault over it in a few swift motions, and be away while the red-faced policeman behind you shook his fist in impotent anger. Yet the reality of your weak arms trying to haul you up falls far short of the fantasy. If the cop really wanted to tackle you or tase you, the awkward back-and-forth swaying as you scale the chain link would have given him ample time, but he just jogs after you and shouts.

"I was going to let you off with a warning you crazy girl!" he belts at you. "Hey, be careful on that thing! There's barbs at the top, you're gonna give yourself tetanus!"

Paying his warnings no mind you boost yourself up over the top. Sure enough the barbs scrape uncomfortably against your skin as you work your way over them, but on the bright side, the position of you pulling yourself over gives the police officer an excellent view of your underwear, and after staring for a few seconds he looks away for a few crucial moments to spare your dignity... and you drop down the other side, landing on a pile of trash cans. Mercifully they are empty; but all the same, it's lot less comfortable than Batman makes it look. The sound is worse than when you fell down the stairs in your homemade C-3PO Halloween costume when you were 13, and your glasses drop into the pile of rubbish.

The sound of the policeman barking something into his radio jolts you out of your pained stupor, and you leap to your feet, wobbling unsteadily. Though you were always a failure at track and field day you were driven by desperation, and after dashing down several alleys in a blind rush, you pause to pant and catch your breath for a minute, hearing no sirens or footsteps coming behind you. You have a sudden urge to post online about police militarization. Luckily, it seems that you took off running in the right direction, as as soon as you emerge from the alleys you're on a street you recognize and walking towards the campus.

Jogging along without trying to look suspicious (or tire yourself out worse), you are just starting to relax and anticipate jumping into the shower and changing clothes when a horrible revelation hits you like a punch to the gut - you no longer have your purse on you, having dropped it at some point during your frantic flight. All of your cash, and worse, much worse, your expensive phone had been in there!

Wincing, you reflexively start doing math in your head. A few hundred dollars. A $700 phone. A $150 pair of designer glasses. Your stomach sinks into your shoes. You are in the mind-boggling situation of just having panicked and run away from the cops... and actually *succeeded* at that, only to immediately after regret your success. Maybe he was telling the truth about just giving you a stern talking to. Or maybe he was hoping to coerce you into giving him a blowjob which wasn't very far off from the dirty, transgressive fantasy which you had gotten in trouble in the first place by indulging. Although you hold out a faint hope that it'll still be back there when you go back to look for it in a few hours after having changed your appearance, you know that in such a part of town it'll probably be gone, especially since you don't even remember where you dropped it, though you are pretty sure you still had it when you fell over the fence...

In any case it's looking like now you've blown your entire summer's supply of fun money, more or less, in a single afternoon's misadventure. What's worse, with the mediocre rapport you currently enjoy with your mom and dad, you aren't sure how generous or sympathetic they'll be even if you present them an acceptable version of the afternoon's events.

All in all, a high price to pay for getting laid just a couple of times... especially since, you recall with a blush, you didn't really have a chance to get your money's worth with Lola. Did streetwalkers do, like, rain checks?

Ugh... you can't think about that right now. You pinch the bridge of your nose and do your best to find your way back to your dorm in your current state of near-blindness. A sudden dark cloud was hanging over your head... instead of going to concerts, geek conventions, and parties, you were going to have to get a summer job... or, more likely, jobs, when you inevitably messed up at the first one. That was just your luck these days, it seemed...

Nevermind the poor chances that you'd ever get to finish what you started with Lola, or that you'd now be too worried about that cop patrolling that part of town to seek her out again or dip your toe in her profession... your prospects of sexy summer fun looked like they'd just taken a nosedive. What were the odds that something as dull and pedestrian as a job would end up getting you laid?