I met The Law at a bar called Hogs and Heifers in the Meat Packing district.

He was waiting out the front when arrived and I almost missed him. We hugged and kissed and immediately I thought how good his body felt. I’m not the first woman to say that they like big guys or at least guys bigger than them but for me it’s more than a requirement, it’s a turn on and for some strange reason, a comfort. He had the type of face that showed vulnerability but in a contained way. At the same time he moved about with complete ease as though he was fully aware that he belonged or held ownership over his surroundings somehow.

We went inside and had a few stiff drinks before getting on his Harley to go for a ride. We rode along the river. The weather was beautiful and still enamored by Manhattan, this was truly magical; me, The Law, the bike moving through the busy streets together, there was something about being propelled forward in this way that felt calming and for the first time in a long time I was completely relaxed.

We stopped for a cigarette break in Harlem. Chatting away about nothing in particular, I couldn’t bear another second without kissing him. After all, the night was perfect in every way, the type of weather that comes fleetingly in New York, exactly warm enough for light clothing with the most refreshing breeze to take the edge off. He had soft lips but he was ferocious. I liked the way he touched my hair, my body. There’s nothing worse than launching your mouth upon someone to be met with a dispassionate limp response or tragically, an unpracticed one. This was not the case when it came to The Law.

I had to make that decision, the one that always excites me. Once I make that decision there’s no turning back for me and I like to jump in feet first. This time though it was different, he lived in Jersey, there would be no way of getting home in the middle of the night so I would have to stay at his place. I didn’t want him to touch the contents but there was something about this guy that made me think he wouldn’t even try, it didn’t seem in his nature somehow.

Again, soothed by the rhythm of the bike I almost fell asleep on the way to his place. He lived in a studio apartment and it was clean, modern, neat. From what I understand The Law’s job is pretty high pressure and he works long hours, so he’s never there. He seemed on the brink of burning out and yet he kept going. There’s a type who can do this and although he didn’t identify with them he certainly showed all the traits. He vibrated with intense energy, I could see he was used to getting what he wanted and he was charming but forceful and utterly reserved emotionally. It made me feel safe.

It wasn’t long before we started. I knew he liked rough sex and I was looking forward to this. Kissing, I straddled his lap and he pulled my top and bra down and kneaded my breasts. In one movement he slid my belt out from my jeans, shoved his fingers inside of me while the other hand was grabbing my hair and face. He put me onto the bed and peeled off my jeans, I started sucking his cock, then he pushed me back and shoved his cock in my mouth. Remembering Marvin, I told him no gagging (due to recent events I had added that to the list. No shit eating, no golden showers, no anal on the first date,no gagging). Anyway, I wanted him to fuck me. He flipped me over onto my belly and fucked me hard, pulling my hair and choking me, my favorite. He used such force I had to put my hand on the opposite wall otherwise I would be shoved right off the bed. It was just right.

Afterward he pulled me to him and we….. cuddled.

But of course I couldn’t sleep. I was tossing and turning and trying to find a way but it just wasn’t going to happen. I even moved onto the couch just for some reprieve. Sometime at 7 am I snuck in 2 hours simply from exhaustion.

Of course, in the morning The Law and I fucked again and then it was time to get on with our day. He went to ‘get his car’ (I had no idea what this meant) and it allowed me some time to snoop in his apartment. He had left his closets open allowing me rare access to his soul. The suits were hung perfectly, jackets at the top, trousers at the bottom, the ties were neatly folded as if tiny elves had snuck in and arranged them.

It was his t-shirts though that struck me. T-shirts on the left, wife beaters on the right all folded exactly so. Well, almost exactly. There was a small series of wrinkles down the middle that were incongruent. Following an urge that comes from God knows where I gently straightened them out, fingering the softness of those ultra white basics, I felt subtle pleasure.

When he returned he changed his clothes. Being a warm day he pulled on some shorts and a t-shirt, one of my t-shirts. I felt a private closeness not with The Law for wearing it but with the t itself. I couldn’t peel my eyes off it.

We went out for breakfast and it was nice. He drove me to meet my parents for lunch in Manhattan which, was gentlemanly beyond measure. Used to doing everything for and by myself this type of behavior was foreign to say the least. During the drive I kept looking at the t. I thought about order and chaos, how we manage it all and why, how we choose to identify ourselves with one or the other with no awareness of the fact. I knew I had been in chaos for a while and I liked it. I also knew I was reaching some sort of natural shift. The Law though, had perfected controlled suppression without apologies and I wondered if I could do the same.

The ne plus ultra.... almost
The ne plus ultra…. almost