Holiday

"Goddamnit!" Richard swore as he looked at the mess around his neck that was supposed to be a satin bow tie. He had tried tying it several times and each subsequent attempt looked worse than the one before it. "Maybe I'll just leave it undone!"

"Don't get your skivvies in a twist, love. Let me do it." Mason padded over to his lover and began arranging the satin around Borden's neck. In a few moments, a perfect bow was complete and the navy commander smoothed down the collar. "There. All done. You'll look quite dashing, tonight. I'm sure tongues are going to wag at the Admiral's party with us looking like brothers - at least until my hair grows back in."

Richard smiled. "Thanks Amery. What did I ever do without you?" He wrapped strong arms around his partner and gave him a gentle kiss. Amery Mason had disappeared for several months and had only resurfaced after the Japanese surrender in September. Borden's repeated calls to the navy base were met with polite unresponsiveness. Mason now sported a deep tan and a shaved head. And the commander looked positively resplendent in his mess dress uniform. When Richard asked him about his disappearance, the other man smiled and put a finger to the gangster's lips. "Sorry, honey-bear. Top Secret. Please don't ask." Amery sat back down in the armchair and finished his cigarette. He stubbed it out into a marble ashtray.

Business - both legal and illicit - had been extremely good to Richard Borden. As the de facto head of the crime syndicate in San Francisco, he had benefited greatly during the war and through Amery, had received many government contracts for the legitimate businesses he and Paul McGowan ran.

Amery had personally delivered the invitation to the New Year's Eve party to the gangster. Next to Richard's party at the Aurora Club, an invitation from Admiral Walter Anderson was the most coveted RSVP in the city.

"I wonder if Gracie and her husband will be there this evening..." Richard mused as he shrugged into his jacket. He took out the automatic from his shoulder holster and looked at it. "I don't think I'm going to need this tonight." He took off the holster and placed it and the gun into a dresser drawer. He took a pink rosebud with ivy wrapped around it and pinned it to his lapel.

Amery stood up and looked at the mobster in the tailored black tuxedo. He licked his lips and smiled.

"Ready, love?"

"Yep. Let's go."

* * *

The Admiral's mansion on the grounds of the naval base was a beautiful example of the Victorian architecture that San Francisco was famous for. The two men exited the sedan and were greeted with surprised (and somewhat lascivious) looks from other arriving partygoers. The large front door was flung open and the two were greeted by Gracie Stark Maddox herself.

"Richard! Amery! Come on in!" Gracie wore a winter white satin sheath that clung to every curve of her voluptuous body. Diamonds glittered like rainbow ice on her ears and her Jungle Red lipstick matched the lacquer on her long, beautiful nails. She gave Richard a tremendous hug and kiss on his cheek and then turned her attentions to the commander and wrapped herself around his muscular body.

"Mmmmm ... Richard, you look good enough to eat!" She grinned impishly at him. "Want a quickie?"

"Gracie!" Richard blushed. His best friend could always scandalize him with her remarks.

The heiress laughed - a quicksilver sound that filled the air and then arched an elegant eyebrow at Amery. She stabbed a finger into his rock-hard chest.

"And you, Commander ... back from the Pacific and wearing that Navy Cross ... I hope you gave Richard a good, rough pounding when you got home! He was mooning for you like a lovesick teenager!"

It was Amery's chance to burn scarlet. Gracie giggled and put her arms out to both men.

"Shall we go in?"

The three - commander, heiress and gangster - left the foyer arm-in-arm and joined the festivities.

* * *

The party - in a word - glittered. The hoi-polloi of San Francisco society was in attendance and they mixed and mingled with the high-ranking navy brass from the Pacific Fleet. Richard and Amery made quite a statement with their shaved heads and a few guests looked a bit askance at Borden. It was a not-so-well-kept secret that Richard was no longer exactly an upright member of society. Champagne flowed like water, served by handsome young yeomen in white mess jackets and the band played lively tunes that had many of the guests dancing the night away on the ballroom floor.

Gracie took Amery by the hand. "Let's start some vicious rumors, shall we?" She pulled the commander onto the dance floor as the band began to play a sensuous tango. Mason was nearly as good a dancer as Richard and the two soon drew gasps of surprise and outrage as they circled around the ballroom floor.

Agitated whispers flew around the room as the two danced together. Far too closely for some of the wives and society matrons present. Richard heard the gossip between the women - gossip that suddenly stopped when the ladies realized that the nightclub owner and mobster was amongst them. He gave each of them an inviting smile that traveled up to his intense green eyes and a wink that had them blushing as he raised his champagne glass to them.

"Isn't she amazing, Richard?" The gangster turned to see Graydon Maddox - Grace's elderly husband - standing next to him. The older gentleman gave Borden a grin. "It does a heart good to see her so happy ... but I haven't seen you in a while m'boy. How are you keeping yourself?"

"I'm doing fine, sir. Just fine. It was rather a surprise to get an invite to the party."

Maddox gave him a pat on the back. "Well, if anyone deserved to be here, it's you. And Amery. You youngsters enjoy yourselves and we'll talk some more later." Something in way he made that statement caused Richard to stop and think. His moss-green eyes followed the other man as he made his way slowly through the crowd. The gangster glided onto the dance floor and tapped his lover on the shoulder.

"Mind if I cut in?"

Gracie winked at him. "You two want to dance? I'm sure you'd make the front page of the Chronicle!!"

"No, you dope - I want to dance with you!" Amery kissed Grace's hand and gave his partner a wink. He left the floor and sauntered over to a group of officers surrounding the Admiral. Richard looked hungrily at the commander's broad back and the snug uniform pants that left little to the imagination as he left the floor.

Gracie grabbed his lantern jaw and twisted his head back to her. "I'm over here, sweetie..."

The two began to dance.

"Your husband is full of surprises, you know that? We were talking about you and I got the distinct impression that I was being sized up for something. Anything you want to tell me?"

"Me?" Gracie widened her eyes and gave Richard an innocent stare. "Why would I know anything about what Graydon says?"

His hand tightened around hers. "Gracie .... what are you up to?"

"You'll see, darling. You've made quite an impression on a number of people. Some very important and very influential people, I might add."

Richard grew intrigued as he danced with the beautiful heiress and the band began to play a decadent rumba.

* * *
"Admiral, I wanted to thank you for inviting me - it came as quite a surprise. And a very pleasant one at that."

After the rumba, Richard and Gracie made their way over to the knot of officers surrounding Anderson. The admiral was a handsome young-looking man with a trim, muscular torso and long, strong legs. More than a few strands of silver shot through his raven hair and the gold braid and medals made him an impressive figure.

Gracie had excused herself. "I'll be right back, sweeties. Have to use the little girl's room." She gave the admiral a wicked grin. "You're next on my dance ticket, Wally." She patted Richard's cheek and disappeared out of the room.

Anderson chuckled as he watched Grace leave a throng of admirers in her wake. "Richard! Glad you could make it! You've been quite an asset to us during the war and Amery can't say enough about you! You're a man of rare talents." He gave his adjutant a sidelong glance and a smile. Mason blushed.

"There's something I'd like to speak with you about ... do you have a couple of minutes?"

"Of course, Admiral. Lead the way."

The admiral clapped him on his broad shoulder. He turned to the other officers. "Excuse us gentlemen .... Amery, come along too. Let's go into the map room."

* * *

The map room was paneled in dark wood and the sweet scent of cedar oil perfumed the air. Old parchment maps were framed and placed around the walls. Several table lamps cast a deep warm glow and a fire was burning merrily in the hearth. Richard was surprised to see both Grace and Graydon already present. Gracie was perched on the massive desk and gave him an exaggerated wink and smile when they entered.

Anderson walked over to the sideboard. "Brandy, Richard?"

"Thank you, sir."

"Call me Walter. What about you, Amery?"

"Yes sir, thank you."

The admiral brought the glasses over to the two men. "Brandy, Gracie?"

"No thanks Wally. I brought my own." The heiress pulled a bottle of champagne from behind her and filled her flute.

"Graydon?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine, Walter. Thank you."

Walter poured himself a brandy and sat down in an armchair.

"I'm not prone to exaggeration, Richard, but you have been instrumental in helping us win the war in the Pacific. We could not have done it without you or your underworld contacts."

Richard reddened at the compliments directed at him.

"Walter, it was my pleasure to help. I was glad to do whatever I could."

"Well, I've asked you here to see you'd be willing to do a bit more."

"Richard, this war has taught us one thing - we no longer have the luxury of living in 'splendid isolation' - there are a great deal of threats around the world directed at the United States and it's up to people with the means and abilities to keep this country safe."

Maddox smiled. "Your lover volunteered to go behind enemy lines in Burma and make contact with the insurgents fighting the Japanese. That's the type of people we're looking for - smart, brave and capable."

At the word 'lover', Richard and Amery gave each other panicked looks. Anderson cleared his throat.

"I wouldn't worry about your relationship. We've known about it for a good while now and believe me, it makes absolutely no difference. Least of all to me. After all, I'm quite familiar with the position you find yourselves in."

Anderson paused. "My lover's name is Philip. He's a submariner."

Graydon continued. "The organization we're putting together is comprised of many different people - Navy, Army, Marines, professionals - you're our first mobster..." Maddox grinned. "But all of them share the love of their country and the willingness to defend her - regardless of the means by which we do it."

"Does this organization have a name?"

"It's called the Central Intelligence Group. It's gone through a couple of name changes, but it's basically the same. We're ... spies!" Gracie laughed. "Graydon and I have been charter members since 1943!"

Richard had relaxed once Anderson had made his confession. "I thought something was screwy when you introduced Graydon as your fiance - I just couldn't figure out what was going on in that red head of yours."

"Oh sweetie, I married Graydon for the s-e-x - what did you think?"

All of them laughed. "Seriously - I've been able to help root out a number of plots that had been going on - it's amazing how many beans get spilled with a little bit of womanly attention."

"I know this is a lot to process in a short period of time, Richard -- but we believe you'd be invaluable to us. We're not asking you to do anything that would compromise your businesses - whichever side of the law they fall on - but to keep your eyes and ears open and keep us informed. There may be times that we need you to do something because only YOU would be capable of doing it - all in the name of preserving America. What do you think?"

Richard looked at Amery. "Burma?"

The commander nodded. "I couldn't tell you, honey-bear - I'm sorry." He put his arms around Richard and nuzzled his jaw and neck. Worried, pale blue eyes searched moss green ones. "Forgive me?"

Borden gave deep throated chuckle that came out more like a purr.

"I'd forgive you anything, love. Just don't frighten me like that again. I didn't know if you were even still alive!"

Graydon cleared his throat. "Well, according to my watch, we should be getting out to the ballroom. 1946 is only a minute away."

Richard put out his hand to the admiral. "Wally, you got yourself another spy. Let's ring in the new year."



* * *

I've been reading W.E.B. Griffin's "The Corps" series, and as far as historical fiction goes, this author really does do an amazing job of telling a story and creating living, believable characters .... hey, just like me! I wrote this story to get my creative juices going again - I'm having a terribly difficult time writing for my next AE - Tom Kane, the safecracker. The story is going in fits and starts. I can't seem to get it down and moving. I have done the Dramatis Personae - which has helped a bit - but still hasn't gotten me over the writing hump.

So on behalf of me and all the AE's - Richard, Duncan, Jason, Joshua, Xiphon, Bobby, TJ, Lucio, Tomas and all the rest - have a wonderful holiday and a very Happy New Year!

Reversion

"What the fuck? ..." Stanley Pennington looked at the columns of data marching across his screen. As chief of security for Margrath and Skillion - one of the largest remaining investment banking firms - it was his job to nip anomalies in the bud. Better to quietly fix indiscretions than have the SEC, Homeland Security or the FBI on the premises.

Something didn't gel. The transaction history for Dax Griffin was showing simultaneous activities in two different locations. Stan knew Dax was one of the golden boys of the firm, but there was no way in hell he could be in two places at once. No one was that good. He brought up some additional monitoring programs; first he started his forensic worm - this would trace the activities from beginning to end. It wasn't exactly a legitimate program - he had been a hacker in a previous life - but it got the job done and it was sanctioned by the top brass.

Next, he brought up the biometric tracker. A year ago, everyone in M&S got new id cards. "Better security" was the stated reason. What wasn't explained, however - even to upper management - was the biometric GPS signature each card put out and the ability to track personnel using the card. This was his creation alone - it wasn't patented; with the testing he was doing unofficially at M&S, he hoped to sell it and retire a multi-millionaire. It wasn't hard to match up all the Griffin entries with his GPS data. What did come out, however, was the spate of transactions attributed to Griffin in the system that actually belonged Parker Hastings.

Interesting ....

* * *

"I think there's been some misund-..."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Parker. You got caught. Stop trying to weasel out of it. Man up for one in your life."

Pennington had summoned Parker Hastings to his office. He had also asked Dax to come by. Hastings was an obnoxious young man - tanned, brawny and vain - completely full of himself. Griffin, on the other hand, was surprisingly and refreshingly decent. Brilliant, but humble - he could swim with the worst of the investment bankers in M&S, but remained untainted. He never behaved with the same supercilious and overbearing manner as his trust-fund colleagues. There were rumours -unsubstantiated- about Dax and Parker being lovers, but that was none of his business. Not until now.

"You've been using Dax's security codes for some rather large and - pardon my French - fucking illegal transactions. What the hell were you doing trafficking in known Al Qaeda accounts?"

At that moment, Dax arrived and knocked on the doorframe. Griffin could have been a model. Tall, handsome and muscular with cognac-brown eyes, he wore his pale blond hair in a slightly shaggy cut that brushed the collar of his jacket. He gave Pennington a happy grin and plopped down in a chair. He loosened his tie.

"Hiya, Stan. What's up?"

He gave the other investment banker a sour look. "Your buddy here has been using your access codes."

Dax looked angrily at Parker. "How the fuck did you get my passcodes? What the hell have you been doing behind my back?"

Stan could see and hear the righteous anger in Griffin. He knew he was innocent, but it was a refreshing confirmation nonetheless.

"Dax ... I need to ask you a personal question. I'm sorry, bud. I really am. But I gotta do it. Have you two been fucking each other?"

Dax blushed furiously. He gave a curt nod. "Uh-huh. But not any more. Not after this. Parker, you sonofabitch!" He began a stream of invective that made even Pennington blush.

"You're lucky it was me. Anyone else would have never figured it out. I've got my own sets of security monitors running in this place." He pointed to Dax. "You'dve been in deep shit, otherwise. This is going right to the SEC and Homeland Security."

During this time, Parker had been looking out of Pennington's window - a small, secret smile on his face. All of a sudden, he grabbed a letter opener from the desk and plunged it into the security chief's chest. Pennington's eyes bulged in shock. Hastings twisted the opener and pulled it up further; Stanley lay dead in the chair.

"You always were such a naive idiot, Dax. It was so easy to set you up." Parker grinned at his former lover. He gave a demented giggle.

"You'd better run, asshole. You're not only wanted for securities fraud, terrorist activities, but now, you're a murderer too!" He picked up the phone and dialed 911. He sounded terrified. "Hello? Hello? I want to report a murder!"

Dax ran.

* * *

The race out of the building was a blur. He was aware of the strange looks he was getting (and at some level, he realized that was not going to help him) and found himself in Central Park. Dusk was approaching as he watched the sun drop lower in the sky.

He walked slowly, collecting his thoughts.

I'm such a fucking idiot. He said to himself. How the hell am I going to get out of this? The only person who could have cleared me is dead, and the bastard who's the real killer is the eyewitness.

"Hey! Gimme your wallet!"

Dax looked up to see a darkly handsome latino blocking his path. He wore a black tank which accentuated his broad, muscular shoulders and trim waist. Snug, grey jeans clung to powerful legs; a pair of white and black soccer shoes completed the outfit. He was shaved smooth and he had an intricate set of black tribal tattoos covering one side of his head; the other side had "Violador" tattooed in heavy black lettering. A nasty-looking switchblade was in his hand and he looked like he knew exactly how to use it.

This is all I need. "Oh, fuck off." Dax sat down on a park bench. He put his head in his hands.

The thief looked surprised. "Hey, what's wrong with you? Don't you know a robbery when you see it?"

"I don't give a God-damned shit." Dax took out his wallet and put it next to him. His body began to shake; bitter sobs wracked his body.

The thief took the wallet and looked at Dax. He turned to leave, but found himself irresistibly drawn to the weeping man. He stopped.

Noel Aguilar shook his head. Some fucking holdup this is. The mugger sat down on the bench next to Dax. He tucked the wallet back into Griffin's jacket pocket and put his arm around the banker; he pulled the man closer to him.

"Hey, papi - what's the matter? Why you crying on a park bench for?"

Dax looked up and into into the concerned, brown eyes. The other man brushed the blonde hair back from Griffin's forehead and stroked down the side of his face; Noel held his chin and gave him a soft kiss. The banker buried his face in the crook of the latino's neck. Aguilar felt the warm tears run down his shoulder and dampen the shirt.

Between gulps, Dax told him his story.

* * *

"Dax, buddy, you really got the shit thrown on you."

Dax nodded to Noel as they stood together in the subway car. "I still don't know what I'm going to do, Noel. I'm fucked."

The latino grinned. "Worry about it tomorrow, papi. Tonight, you're coming home with me."

Dax smiled back. "Thanks, bud. I'm sorry to have broken down in front of you, but at that point ..."

"Nah, olvide de ello. I really can mug people, you know. Just not damn handsome blonde men who cry on my shoulder." He wrapped an arm around the banker and nuzzled his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two of the passengers exchange a disgusted look. He spun around.

"Hey! What the fuck you starin' at?" He pulled the switchblade from his pocket and opened it up. "You want me to cut that look off your fuckin' faces?" The train pulled into a station and the two hurried out of the car. He chuckled. "Asquerosos."

"Lo amo cuando tu hablas sucio ..."

"You speak Spanish?"

Dax nodded. "I did a lot of work with companies in Colombia and Uruguay."

"I'm gonna have to be careful what I say around you, guapo. Hey, here's our stop."

The two got off the train and walked several blocks to his home. When he opened the door, Dax was enveloped in the most delicious aromas he had ever smelled. The scents of fresh bread, hot roasting meat, garlic and spices wafted out of the kitchen.

"Noelito, that you?"

"Si, mama. I brought someone home for dinner!"

"Get cleaned up, then! We're gonna eat in a few minutes!"

The loud chatter in the dining room stopped when the two men entered. Dax saw an older, but still beautiful woman at the head of the table and a younger, stunning version of herself. Both stared open-mouthed at him.

"Dax, this is my mama, Rosa and my sister, Blanca. This is Dax Griffin. I, uh, was going to mug him, but things didn't turn out the way anyone expected ... I asked him to come home with me."

Noel grabbed his hand and held it.

Griffin snaked his arm around Noel. "I was in really bad shape when I met Noel. Thank you for allowing me to come here tonight. I truly appreciate it." he said in perfect Spanish. If the two could have looked more shocked, they did.

"Dax got framed for murder, mama. He can't go home right now."

Rosa recovered quickly and smiled at the banker. "Noelito was always bringing stray puppies home ... have a seat, Dax."

* * *

Both women immediately warmed to Griffin and he spent a good part of the evening telling them what had transpired - Parker's criminal involvement, his betrayal, the murder, stumbling into Central Park and running into Noel.

Blanca said, "Tomorrow, you'd better come down to the salon and let me fix you up. No use you getting caught!"

"Thank you. Thank you both for everything."

Noel yawned. "Sorry. Busy day."

Rosa gave him a stern look. "Xavier makes you work too hard, Noelito. He's the leader of Los Brazos, he should be doing more!"

"I'm the underboss, mama. I gotta take care of the day-to-day stuff."

She sniffed. "He still works you too hard."

Aguilar gave Dax a pat on the leg. "C'mon guapo, let's get to bed. You got a busy day tomorrow."

* * *

The two entered Noel's bedroom. It was spacious, sparsely furnished with a few dressers, a loveseat and dominated by a large double-bed. The windows were open and a warm breeze fluttered through the curtains. Aguilar sat down on the loveseat; he unlaced his soccer shoes and took off his socks. He pulled the tank over his head to reveal the smooth expanse of his muscular chest and sidled up to Dax. He began by loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He kissed the hollow of the banker's throat as he pulled the shirt off. He stroked the firm, hard pectorals and trailed his knuckles down the 6-pack abdomen.

Dark eyes smoldered. They burned their way through the banker's nerves. "This is okay with you?"

That sensual voice was hesitant. It wasn't unsure, just cautious. "Mmmmm .... que mango, Dax." Noel breathed as he continued to explore every inch of Griffin's upper body.

"I'm a fruit?" Dax looked quizzically at him.

"No, no, no ...." A wicked smile lit up the latino's face. "Like what you call a very sexy man." Noel's hand traced the line between his chest and belly. "Like, mi corazon Dax es un mango."

Aguilar popped the button on his jeans. Dax could see that he was commando beneath. He was shaking under the gentle onslaught. Noel continued.

Long, gentle fingers pushed the hair off Griffin's face. "Tienes ojos muy bonitos." The touch drifting along his jaw set the banker trembling. The latino whispered, "Besame, Dax." His voice was thick with want. The way Noel drew out his name sent shivers down Dax's spine.

The thief opened his mouth. Teasing Dax's tongue with hesitant contact, he drew him inside.

If his mouth is this hot, what is his body like? Dax groaned to himself.

"Te quiero!" he whispered.

Aguilar loosened the belt and unfastened Griffin's trousers. They fell in a tumbled heap onto the floor.

"Take off the rest of those clothes, papi." Noel licked his lips in anticipation. As Griffin undressed, the latino slithered out of his jeans and tossed them into a corner. Aguilar was completely smooth, a starburst tattoo around his navel. A steel cockring encircled his manhood; already it was jutting out obscenely, hard with need and desire. The two embraced.

Pulling Dax to him, Noel toyed with banker. Squeeze, release, squeeze, release; it was all Griffin could do to keep from losing it.

With the way Noelito ravished his body with that hungry stare and full lips, he obviously liked what he saw. Aguilar grabbed Dax's arms and damn near threw him onto the bed. Dax looked surprised.

"Aye, papi." He gave Griffin a wicked grin. Forcing Dax back and down, he purred, "Time to ride." Noel looked like he was ready to eat him alive. Every muscle moved and stretched beneath the cafe au lait skin. The inkwork on the side of his face danced as he smiled down.

Damn, Dax trembled beneath the other man, he knows how fucking sexy he is. When their hips met they stilled, shivering for heartbeats. Noelito's balls rested heavy and warm on his belly. Dax reached up. His fingers danced with the latino's tongue. He was dying and they weren't even moving yet. Noel was just going to kill him like this.

Stroking his skin was like stroking rock-hard silk. Wild and desperate, they drove each other.

Dax clung to Noel. They moved in perfect rhythm. One dark hand snaked up to tangle itself into blonde hair. Two men locked in pleasure. Over and over he cried out, "Dios mio!"

Both were completely melded by their passion; mind and soul. Noel lost himself within the hot confines of Dax's body. With a shout, he dug his hands into Griffin's shoulders and emptied himself deep within the banker. He collapsed atop of him.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Dax let out a shaky breath. He stroked the sweaty back of the latino. "You're incredible, Noel. Incredible!" He nuzzled his lover's neck.

"You're not bad either, papi ..." he chuckled. His bright smile was a stark contrast to his darker skin. "So hot ... so tight... Dios!" He levered himself up to stare into the pale brown eyes of the man beneath him. He grinned.

"You ready for some more?"

* * *

"Well, Dax ... looks like you're famous ..." Blanca quipped.

The four were sitting at the table having a hearty breakfast. The newspaper headline blared "Murder on Wall St." and the story detailed the death of Stanley Pennington and the manhunt for Griffin.

Noel took the paper from his sister and read the article. "We gotta get you fixed up fast, chulo."

He turned to her. "Blanca, can you take care of Dax this morning?"

"I got one early appointment, but I can close the shop by 11am. What do you think we should do?"

"Head shave at least." He looked at the banker. "Probably body shave, too. "

"Dye the brows and lashes?"

"Good idea. I'll bring him to Xavier, tonight."

Dax held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa. Aren't we going a little overboard here?"

Noel looked at him. Not unkindly, but firm. "Papi, who's gonna look at you twice if you're a skinhead? Who's gonna be looking for you in a latin street gang, huh? No one is ever going to take you away from me. Nadie." He pulled the blonde man into a brutal kiss.

* * *

Dax wore a loose set of track pants and a hoodie when Noel brought him to the salon. Fortunately, they were the same size; although Griffin was somewhat less muscular through the shoulders and arms. When he entered the salon, Blanca put the "Closed" sign in the window. Noel had taken Dax's credit and ATM cards (along with the PIN numbers) and promised to get back later in the afternoon with some new clothes for him and a false trail for the police to follow. He put his hand around the back of the banker's head and pulled him into a deep kiss.

"See you in a while, chulo..."

Blanca wasted no time. In a few moments, the hoodie was off and Dax was in the stylist's chair. She took out a large set of electric clippers and Griffin soon saw clumps of his hair land in his lap. Already, he looked completely different - another man looked back at him in the mirror.

Next, she opened up a large tub of white creme and slathered it generously on his head and carefully put it on his face, his neck and around his mouth. It tingled and smelled like fresh oranges.

"This stuff is a hair remover, sweetie. It'll keep you nice and smooth for a few weeks." She set a timer for 15 minutes and sat down.

"I don't know what spell you cast on Noelito, but I've never seen him this happy before. You're a good influence on him, Dax. I mean it. By the way, it's probably a good idea if we don't use your real name, any more. You got a middle name?"

"Thomas."

She smiled. "Tomas! Perfect!" The timer rang. "Ok, let's get you cleaned off."

Blanca took a damp towel and wiped the creme off of his face. After several damp applications, the mixture was removed. She then brought him over to a sink and had him lay back as she rinsed the material off of his head. She then toweled him dry. Blanca looked critically at him and stroked her chin.

"Oh, you're going to be one handsome fucker, Tomas! Pull off those pants and let me do a little manscaping before you put the rest of the creme on."

Tomas (funny how that seemed to fit him better now than ever before) unlaced the shoes and pulled off the pants. He was embarassingly erect. He had felt himself becoming aroused when Noel's sister began shaving his head and grew even more so when he felt his completely smooth pate.

With a few strokes of the clippers, his bush was reduced to a faint stubble. She began to slather the creme onto his back. She then spread a good amount down his crack and into his pucker. When she finished, Blanca handed him the large container.

"Now, rub that all over you - be generous. I got plenty more if you need it. You gotta be completely smooth if you want your initiation to go well."

Tomas began to rub the material onto his chest and over his abs. Into his crotch and down his legs."Tell me more about this gang, Blanca. What am I getting myself into?"

"Don't forget your pits, handsome ... the gang is nowhere near the size of an MS-13 or Latin Kings, but I'd say they're more well organized. They're more violent, but they're also a lot more careful. No member's ever been arrested - even charged with anything. Xavier keeps a firm rein on all the members. The top dogs get the tribal tats on their faces - like Noelito - and everyone is smooth. With the exception of little Oscar - he's bi - everyone in the gang is gay."

Tomas' eyes widened and he took a deep breath. "That's a lot to digest. Wow ..." The timer rang again.

Blanca chuckled. "Shower's in the back, guapo. After you're done, we still got a ways to go."

* * *

Tomas toweled himself dry. He couldn't believe how incredibly sensitive his skin had become. Anything that brushed against it aroused him to the boiling point. And his cock! Without the obscuring hair, he looked even larger than he was. The former banker was painfully erect and his entire body tingled when he brushed his hands across his hard nips. He wrapped a towel around his slim waist and padded back out to the main area. Blanca was speaking on the phone, but stopped and stared at the transformed man in front of her.

"Bonita, I gotta go - I'll call you back..."

"Madre de Dios! Look at you! You're amazing!"

Tomas smiled. "Thanks ... I feel like a completely different person - I haven't felt this great in years!"

She rubbed her hands. "Next, I wanna give you a little more color ... I'd say about 45 minutes to an hour in the tanning bed. Then I can work on dyeing your brows and lashes."

* * *

"Okay, handsome ... open your eyes."

Tomas gasped. Another man stared back at him in the mirror. The hour in the tanning bed had darkened his skin; his brows and lashes were now dyed a deep sable. Blanca had threaded the brows with an expert hand - they were now straighter and gave his face a completely different look. Silver handcuffs dangled from his newly pierced right ear and the small steel barbells through each nip winked in the overhead light. He fingered the tiny cuffs on the earring. "Why cuffs, Blanca? I'm trying to avoid wearing these..." he grinned at her in through the mirror.

She kissed the top of his head. "Because you belong to Noelito now, Tomas. You see the way he looks at you - you are his corazon ... and seeing the way you look at him ... I think he's yours, too."

Tomas blushed. She hugged him. "You're made for each other, you know that?"

At that point, there was a knock on the door. She looked out of the blinds. "It's Noelito!" She shooed him into the back room.

She opened the door and her brother walked in, carrying two large shopping bags. She quickly closed it behind him. He put down the bags and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"So let's see what you did to D- ..." he stopped dead in his tracks and stared.

Tomas was leaning against the doorway to the back room. The track pants rode low on his hips and his naked hairless torso gleamed in the light. He gave Aguilar a sinfully crooked grin.

"You like what you see, handsome?"

Noel slowly walked over to the former banker and stroked his hands over the now-bald head, down the chest and over the muscular arms. He fondled the pierced nips - which drew a rushed intake of breath from Tomas - and reached up to touch the cuffs dangling from his lover's ear.

"Blanca explained what this means, didn't she?" he said in a husky whisper.

Tomas nodded. He pulled the latino closer to him so that their crotches ground together. He could feel the heat and hardness of the other man burning against him. "I've never felt this way about another man before, Noelito. Never. Tu me completas. God, how you complete me." He nuzzled the latino's neck, moving up to the jawline and gently licking his ear.

Aguilar moaned. He began to stroke the other man. "Oh, Madre de Dios ... I can't stop touching you!"

Blanca cleared her throat. "I do have a business to run, Noelito. Why don't you get Tomas dressed?"

"Mmmnnnmm? Tomas?" He continued to kiss and fondle his lover. Each caress and touch was returned, fanning a cycle of lust that would soon spin out of control.

"That's his middle name. Works well enough. How about 'DeJesus' for his last name, Noel? NOEL!"

"What?"

Blanca sighed. "Can you take your hands off of him for a moment? I said, what about 'DeJesus' for his last name?"

"I like it."

Tomas grinned. "Sorry, Blanca. It was my fault. Your brother brings out the beast in me." He turned to the underboss.

"So how did everything go?

Reluctantly, Noel let go of Tomas. "Really well, chulo. I took out cash advances on all the cards - as much as I could since I don't know if they gonna get canceled or not. Looks like you're out of the city and traveling down the east coast. I bought you a Greyhound ticket to Florida and an open ticket to Mexico on Delta. After the meeting tonight, I'll give your cards out and let them do a little traveling and see how long we can use them."

"Blanca told me a bit about the gang. Quite impressive. What's this meeting going to be like tonight?"

Noel had again taken hold of Tomas about the waist and was stroking the other man's hips with his thumbs.

"Initiation. We got a few new guys who are gonna become full members - you included. That ..." he fondled the earring. "... and those ..." he stroked the pierced nips. "... mean you're being sponsored. By me. Anyone touches you, I fucking cut them."

"What do you mean?"

"Guys that don't get sponsored get passed around to the members. Try before you buy. If they can't take it, they don't get in."

Aguilar squeezed Tomas' crotch and sighed. "Damn, papi. I want you so bad right now, my eyes are crossing."

Tomas stroked the other man's arms. "Why don't you show me what you got and let me get dressed?" He gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "Then we can take care of what you want."

Noel broke out in a 100-watt grin. "C'mon! Let's get you dressed and outta here!"

The two men went into the back room and the latino underboss started unpacking the bags. The first items he removed were a heavy steel cockring and a jockstrap. He tossed them to Tomas. "Put those on, guapo."

Tomas was engorged with desire and it was exquisitely painful to pull his balls and then his dick into the steel prison. Once it was on, however, it provided a deeply erotic weight in his crotch.

Noel whistled. "Now, THAT is what a Los Brazos should look like! Hot as hell and ready to fuck!"

He then took out the jockstrap - a blue C-IN2 one - and crammed himself into the undersized pocket.

"Damn, this feels good! I'm so hard I could punch a hole thru concrete! I just wish there was some hot, hungry hole for me to fill up right now!"

The underboss laughed. "Oh, you'll have plenty of opportunity tonight, papi ... there's gonna be a lot of hot and hungry holes for you to stuff this evening!" He stroked a knuckle down the 6-pack abs of his lover.

The next items were two t-shirts from Jimmyz. He layered one over the other and then pulled on a pair of dark indigo jeans. He sat down and pulled on a pair of tube socks and a tall pair of engineer boots. A heavy black leather belt followed. Tomas finished up with a hoodie, a baseball cap and sunglasses.

"How does everything feel, amor?"

"Everything is so soft, Noel. But I'm still hard as a rock! This cock ring feels so good!"

Noel wrapped his arms around Tomas and tucked his hands into the other's back pockets. He rubbed himself sinuously against him. "Glad to hear that, papi ... that cockring is something you don't ever take off. Except to stay smooth. And then it goes right back on." He squeezed the ex-banker's crotch. "Entiendeme?"

"Mmmm-hmmmm." Tomas had wrapped his arms around the underboss and gave him a deep kiss. His manhood pulsed against the heated metal.

The two left the back room. Blanca was again thunderstruck by the transformation in front of her. She fanned herself. "Ohhhh ... two handsome studs that look so good together! Are you two going to be home tonight? I want to let mama know."

"We're gonna be really late, Blanca. Don't wait up for us." He turned to his lover. "C'mon, Tomas. Let's go back to the apartment." His dark eyes twinkled. "I wanna explore every inch of that body again before tonight!"

* * *

After another strenuous session back at the apartment, Tomas lay spent on the bed. Noel could literally fuck the brains out of him. It was all the banker could do to fondle his dick, encircled by the cockring and revel in the sweet burning of his pucker as he watched Aguilar dress. The underboss pulled on a tight black t-shirt and fastened a silver dangle in his left ear. He turned to his lover.

"Get dressed, amor. We don't wanna be late for the initiation."

Tomas looked hard at the earring Aguilar was wearing. It was identical to his own. He unconsciously reached up to his right ear to touch the one there.

Noel grinned. "Like I said, papi ... you belong to me. Tu eres mi corazon. C'mon."

* * *

The two men dressed and took the subway to the gang's main quarters. This section of town was older, interspersed with smaller, squatter buildings and individual homes. Noel walked up to a large house and put his hand onto a dark glass plate next to the heavy door. Tomas could hear heavy bolts retracting into the frame.

As they entered, a striking younger latino came around the corner. Like Noel, he was hairless. The man had a swimmers lithe build and wore a pale blue tank top and black biking shorts. He sported a huge basket and gave the underboss a wide grin as he embraced him.

"Hey boss! You look fucking sexy tonight! Ready for some fresh meat?"

"You got it in one, Carlito!" He licked his lips and wrapped an arm around the ex-banker. "Tomas, this is Carlito Mendoza - one of the best pickpockets in the city! Tomas is joining Los Brazos tonight."

Carlito gave the other man a thorough once-over, undressing him with his eyes. Tomas felt unbelievably aroused by Mendoza's intense interest in him. When he looked at the cuffs in his right ear, his eyes widened, and then looked over to see Noel's matching set. He made an "O" with his mouth.

"Damn, Tomas! You got sponsored by Noel?? You are one lucky man, you know that?"

"That I do, Carlito. He's like no one I've ever met." The two kissed.

Carlito grinned. "Well, no use wasting time ... c'mon in for the party! The two new guys are already getting worked over."

Noel and Tomas followed the pickpocket through a maze of rooms. All of the men were hairless and most were in various stages of undress. Several of them nodded to Noel as he passed and still more gave the ex-banker deeply lascivious looks. I like this gang already.

A darkly powerful arm reached out and took hold of Tomas. "You look fucking hot, papi. Wanna go upstairs and have some fun?" The man was a bodybuilder. He was naked from the waist up; a pair of black and white urban camo fatigues did little to hide the musculature of his lower torso. Or the curve of his ass. Black paratrooper boots gleamed on his feet. He had an elaborate colored tattoo sleeve crawling up one arm and onto his shoulderblade. His voice was deep and his features were sharp, bordering almost on the cruel. The man had grabbed the ex-banker from the left and did not see Noel or the dangle in Tomas' right ear.

Tomas was wearing a tight black-and-crimson UA shirt and a pair of black track pants with crimson striping that clung to his well-defined ass and legs. Black and red soccer shoes completed his outfit.

"Get your goddamn hands off him, Miguel... NOW!" Noel slammed the other man into the wall. A long blade appeared in Aguilar's hand, the tip at the other man's throat. "Don't you fucking touch him! He's mine! Entiendame?" The room became deathly silent; the only sounds came from music blaring from somewhere else.

The bodybuilder was taken aback by Noel's reaction until he saw the cuffs in Tomas' ear. He visibly paled and began to shake.

"S-sorry, Noel! I didn't know! Sorry!" A small trickle of blood ran down his neck. Noel hooked a foot behind one of the bodybuilder's legs and twisted; causing him to crash to the floor. The underboss put an arm around his lover.

"Who was that?" Tomas said sotto voce.

"Miguel Castillo. One of the enforcers. Not too bright and always thinks with his dick. C'mon ... let's go meet some friends of mine."

* * *

Tomas was introduced to several of the high ranking members of Los Brazos; he knew from Blanca that the "officers" had the tribals on their head and usually some wording on the other side. Noel had told him to take off his shirt and he received quite a number of surprised looks at his pierced nips. He wasn't quite sure what that signified, but it made a very deliberate statement to the gang members. He was treated with a sort of hushed reverence when they saw the cuffs dangling from his right ear - obviously, having Noel as a sponsor was a very unique occurrence. He was given bright smiles, handshakes, hugs and claps on the back; Aguilar looked like a proud parent. He had yet to meet Xavier. Everyone he met was breathtakingly handsome; the ones that were naked (and there were a considerable number of those) all had their manhood encircled by heavy steel cockrings. The music and the warm, musky aroma of so many men having sex with each other were having the desired effect on the ex-banker. He was ragingly hard and his own steel restraint was a pleasantly hot, comfortable weight in his pants. Noel told him he had to go commando for tonight.

The other two men being initiated into the gang that night did not receive the same treatment, however.

One man, Eduardo Vega, was brought in blindfolded from another room. He did not walk far, when someone grabbed his feet and lifted him up from the floor. He was placed in something that looked like a hammock, and then his legs and feet were tied off so that he was spread-eagled and lying on his back. Tomas realized Eduardo was in a sling. His head was pulled backwards and tied off so that it was hanging upside down off the sling. The blindfold was removed and he could see a line of cocks standing before him. He looked panicked and began to struggle. The man standing next to him bent down and said something to him; he stroked the captive man's chest and Eduardo ceased his thrashing.

"That's Xavier." Noel whispered to Tomas.


The gang lord was impressive to say the very least. As handsome (or perhaps more) as the other members of Los Brazos, Xavier Rios exuded a calm and forceful air of command. Intricate tattoos covered one side of his head, and the word "Killer" was tattooed on the other. A dangle earring - a scimitar - adorned his left ear. Atop his bald head were four steel spikes - in a sea of smooth heads, his unique mohawk was distinctive and disturbing.

“Okay, you know the game.” Xavier said. “I have all your numbers here. The first one pulled out get his choice of heads or tails. After that, the second gets what’s left. Then we proceed from there as each gets done. Entiendente??”

Tomas heard a chorus of "Si's" “uh-huhs” and the ex-banker realized the man in the sling was surrounded by men. Their voices came from all around him.

“Here we go…23!”

Tomas heard a voice to his left shout his approval and then the gang member said, “Heads.”

He saw him walk around Eduardo and placed his soft cock to the other's mouth. The man took it in easily and began to lick at it and suck on it.

“Diez!” DeJesus heard and saw another dick being positioned at the captive asshole. The cock entered the young man and he began to fuck him slowly. The thick c-ring made contact with the exposed cheeks and pulled out again. Then in again. Then out. Apparently, Eduardo was enjoying the sensation of having both cocks fucking him and with a start, Tomas realized that the cock in his mouth was number 23! How many men were here?

Two by two, all shapes and sizes of cocks erupted in a hole, each cock immediately replaced by another - Eduardo was continuously being fucked at both ends. He must have swallowed a gallon of cum and had another gallon up his well-used ass. Tomas tried to listen to the numbers being called and he knew he heard '28', but was unable to hear more from the grunts and moans of the guys exploding into their hapless victim.

Xavier felt the attention directed at him and sauntered over to Noel and Tomas.

Pale brown skin - paler than Noel's - enveloped muscles that bunched and moved like sharks underwater. A fine sheen of sweat covered his torso and made it gleam in the warm light. He sported a pair of leather jeans that almost seemed sprayed onto his brutal thighs and a pair of high riding boots that were molded sinfully to each curve of his legs. He reached around the underboss' waist and drew him into an deep embrace. The kiss lasted until he broke it - Noel was breathless. Xavier licked his lips.

"I thought you were going to miss all the fun, Noelito ..." At that point, he became aware of Tomas and took in the pierced nips and earring. He raised his eyebrows and gave him a searching look.

"Who's this?"

"Xavier, this is Tomas. Tomas DeJesus. He's gonna join us tonight."

"You got good taste, Noel. Always did." He grasped Tomas' jaw and turned his head side to side giving an appreciative nod. Xavier flashed the new member a dark grin and dove his hand past the waistband of the pants to grab his package. Rios felt the heavy, warm ring encircling the engorged manhood and gave the balls a friendly squeeze. "Nice big package too ... Looking forward to the performance, chulo. Later!" and strolled off.

The underboss was almost vibrating with fury. "Damn him! He can be such a fucking pendejo sometimes!"

"Noel, what did he mean by 'the performance'? What's going to happen?" Tomas was beginning to feel distinctly uneasy.

Aguilar stroked his back. "Remember I told you that if you don't get sponsored, you get passed around?" He waved a hand back towards the man in the sling. Tomas nodded.

"Well, you still gotta put out to get into the gang, amor. But only with me. I gotta fuck you in front of everyone."

The former banker paled. "Oh, shit."

Noel grabbed him by the arms. "Papi, when we do this, you look at me, okay? No one else. Don't pay no attention to no one or nothing but ME." He bent down to kiss one of his nips. "You'll be okay. Don't worry."

News of Aguilar's 'sponsorship' of Tomas spread rapidly and soon Xavier let loose with a piercing whistle. The men quieted down.

"Guys -- we got a special treat for you tonight ... seems Noel decided to sponsor someone to join Los Brazos!"

Appreciative catcalls and shouts echoed throughout the room.

Xavier motioned them to be quiet. "We all know how hard Noel can be on your ass ..." the crowd laughed. "... so it's gonna be quite a show to see him drill his new chulito!!"

"However ..." Rios held up his hand. "... as leader of Los Brazos, I'm gonna fill that fucking tight hole first."

Cheers and whistles erupted around them.

"NO!" Noel yelled.

Silence filled the room. Xavier looked at him; his voice was quiet, but filled with menace. "You telling me 'no' Noelito? You disrespecting me? Huh?"

"No he's not. You want to top me, you gotta beat me first."

All eyes turned to Tomas. "You think you're as good as Noel, Xavier? Try it. C'mon." DeJesus beckoned to the gang leader.

"Dax, what are you doing?" Aguilar whispered. "Amor, he's gonna kill you! You can't call him out!"

Tomas gave him a tight smile. "I know what I'm doing - trust me." He gave his lover a brief kiss. "Don't worry"

Xavier grinned. "This is gonna be one FUN night!! I'm gonna enjoy beating you up and fucking you till you can't move!"

He unscrewed the spikes from his head and replaced them with smooth metal caps. "How you want to do this, Tomas? Knives, fists, or what?"

Tomas gave Rios a small bow. "You pick your weapon. I'll pick mine. First blood ends the fight?"

The gang leader nodded. "Gimme a switchblade." Someone handed him a black-handled beauty. He snapped it open and the steel blade gleamed in the light. Xavier smiled.

Tomas stared at Rios. "I want two sticks. Broom and plunger handles are fine." Someone ran out of the room and returned quickly with the two items. Tomas hefted the broom handle and spun it around a few times.

Both men removed their clothing. The two faced each other, their hairless bodies unadorned except for their cockrings and their earrings scintillating in the light. The crowd of gang members moved back, giving the two a wide arena for their combat.

They circled; each testing out the other, looking for weaknesses to exploit. Xavier crouched, the blade making tiny circles in the air. He sniggered. "C'mon, Tomas - I ain't gonna cut you up too bad ... nothin' a few stitches won't fix..."

Tomas stayed silent, watching how Rios moved, how he circled. How he reacted. The gang leader feinted to his right, and switched the blade to his left hand and lunged. DeJesus danced out of the way and spun the longer stick under his arm and behind his back.

"CRACK!" The pole connected with the gang leaders butt. A faint red welt began to appear almost immediately. Rios stopped for a moment. Stunned.

Tomas backed away to the far end of the circle. "Please, Xavier I don't want to do this ..."

Rios advanced. He was angry. "Then you should have let me fuck you, chico..."

The dangerous dance continued. Xavier was an expert with the switchblade, but Tomas always seemed to slide away from the cold steel at the last second. The gang leader had been slapped several more times by one or both of the sticks and now had red marks on his stomach, thighs and across his broad back. The ex-banker could tell that the other fighter was becoming incensed; the duel now had the potential to escalate into something deadly. It was time to bring it to a close.

Tomas threw the long pole away. He ducked, rolled and brought the short stick up behind Xavier's knees. He pushed hard and the gang leader's legs buckled beneath him. He fell, rolling over DeJesus and landed on the floor. Tomas pinned him down.

Despite the fact that Xavier was the more developed of the two, he could not break out of Tomas' hold on him. He glared at the man pinning him to the floor.

"Xavier, I'm not out to prove anything. I don't want to hurt you. I'll do anything to join Los Brazos, but I decide who fucks me. And that's Noel. All I'm asking for is to belong. I don't have anywhere else to go. Please."

Tomas trailed his lips over the fallen man's brows and kissed one of his temples. Xavier looked shocked. The ex-banker continued his gentle onslaught. He kissed along the captive man's jawline and down his neck; he softly licked the hollow of his throat; he kissed each of the other man's eyes. Xavier had stopped struggling and Tomas loosened his hold on him.

DeJesus let go of Xavier's wrists; he put his hands on either side of the gang leader's head. Tomas looked into the dark, smouldering gaze beneath him and gave him a deep kiss - their tongues exploring the hot wetness of the other's mouth. Xavier's hands reached up to stroke the back of Tomas' skull.

Xavier's fingers traced lightly around Tomas' mouth. "Let me up, papi. We're done here. I give up. You win."

Tomas stood up and helped Rios to his feet. Xavier touched the side of his mouth. A tiny smudge of blood was on his fingertip. First blood. He put his arm around the ex-banker.

"Tomas beat me - fair fight. You think he should join us?"

Rousing screams, whistles and yells greeted the question.

"Welcome to Los Brazos, guapo. You're the new top dog here." Xavier's hand stroked Tomas' chest and gave his cock a squeeze.

Tomas took the hand and kissed it. "No, I'm not. One fight doesn't change anything, Xavier. I've got to earn the right to take care of you. And I've got a lot to learn." He pumped the other man's hand into the air.

"LOS BRAZOS!!" he yelled. The crowd cheered.

Noel came up to the two - a huge grin of relief and joy illumined his face. He wrapped Tomas in a crushing embrace.

"Damn, papi! I didn't know you could do that! You scared the FUCK out of me!!" He grasped Tomas by the upper arms and gave him a shake. "Don't ever do that shit to me again!" He laughed.

DeJesus grinned. The cuffs glittered in the light. "Eskrima Kali Armis. Filipino martial arts. I told you not to worry!"

Xavier cleared his throat. "Well, as a new member, you got some responsibilities to take care of. I'm sure there are some guyz here that want to sample that tool of yours." He looked down at Tomas' jutting manhood. "Let's go!"

* * *
Perhaps it was the release of tension, but Tomas found himself blessed with a remarkable stamina that night. The sexually charged atmosphere didn't hurt either. Men writhed in pleasure or screamed 'Mas! Mas!' as he drilled into them.

His lovemaking with Noel was greeted with cheers and applause. He wrapped his legs around the trim waist of his lover as Aguilar thrust deeply into him. Both came at the same time; Noel exploding deep within him and Tomas spilling his seed between their hairless torsos.

For the first time in his life, Tomas was truly happy; despite the fact that he was a convicted criminal in all but name, he felt complete and whole. Dax Griffin had disappeared and probably would never surface again; Tomas DeJesus and his gang was all that mattered now; that ... and revenge.


* * *

The next several months passed quickly; Tomas spent him time in the gym, or out with gang members learning the ins and outs of robbery, burglary, enforcement and intimidation. Other hours were spent comprehending the finer points of Los Brazos organization and administration with Xavier and Noel. He was amazed at the additional muscle and definition he acquired - but then again, he was becoming a gym rat and was loving every minute of it. Once hairless, he found that even the slightest growth was irritating and kept himself completely smooth all the time.

He was more active than he had ever been; there was a never-ending supply of men wanting to be taken by him and most nights was spent in making love with Noel.

Tomas made use of his banking knowledge to bring heretofore inaccessible resources to the gang. He cleaned out trading accounts, unstacked margin calls and readjusted yields to obtain vast monies for Los Brazos, and then proceeded to send the balances through the international financial web as to make the amounts untraceable. All in all, over $17 million dollars was sitting in accounts in the Grand Caymans; in Lichtenstein and in Switzerland for the gang's use.

Xavier was incredulous at the vast wealth Tomas was able to obtain; Noel simply smiled.

It was after one particularly satisfying session with the underboss when Aguilar dropped a bombshell.

The two men were spooned together in Noel's large bed; the latino had his tool still buried deep within Tomas' chute. A dark arm was thrown protectively over the other man and the underboss was idly stroking his lover's pecs and nips.

"Amor? ..."

"Mmmmm?" Tomas was half asleep.

"Xavier and I were talking yesterday ... we think it's time you got inked."

"Huh?"

"Your tats, papi. You're moving up in the world." Noel kissed the side of Tomas' neck.

"Okay." Tomas dozed off completely.

Noel continued to caress his lover, until he, too fell asleep. Tomorrow was going to be a big day for both of them.

* * *

The two stood outside the tattoo parlor. Tomas looked nervously at Noel.

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

"I know, papi. It's a big step." The underboss stroked the other man's arms. "But Dax Griffin is gone, amor. No one even missed him."

It was true. After a brief flurry, the news and furor had died down. Griffin, the murderer, was on the lam and no one cared any longer. No police searches, no outrage from family members, nothing. It was if he never really existed.

Life with Los Brazos, however, was intense. There was Rosa and Blanca - who treated him like another member of the family; his lover, Noel; Xavier, who included him in every major decision; and the operations with Carlito, Ricky and Oscar that gave him a rush that he had never felt before. An innocent man had been branded a criminal; but he was no longer an innocent and reveled in the changes wrought in him by the gang.

He squared his shoulders. "Vamos." Noel stroked his back and the two entered Ink Inc.

A tone sounded as the men entered. "Binki! Where the fuck are you?" Noel yelled.

"I'm in the back! Wait a minute!"

In a few minutes Binki Soto came to the front of the store. His head was shaved and it gleamed in the overhead lighting. He wore a black tank top and had two full-color sleeves running up his highly defined arms. Tomas could see more intricate designs running down his neck and peeking beneath the shirt. He had on a pair of tight jeans and sneakers and his hands were encased in surgical gloves.

"Noel! I've got a customer I'm finishing up ... what's up?"

"Binki, this is Tomas DeJesus. He's getting a promotion and needs to be inked."

Soto eyed the ex-banker. "What are we talking about? Tribals and brand?"

"Yeah. Executive level. Full. Tomas and Xavier are running the gang now."

Tomas looked shocked. Noel chuckled. "You had it coming, chulo. You really make a difference. Everyone says so."

"What about you?"

Noel grinned and pulled DeJesus to him. "Tomas es mi corazon. I like running the day-to-day stuff. He and Xavier do the big planning."

Binki grinned back. "Okay, let me clear off the appointments for tomorrow. Come on by around 8am and we can get started."

* * *
Besides a padded bench, some chairs and what looked like a dentist's couch, the back room was spartan and spotless. A rack of paints filled an entire wall and the machinery gleamed in the bright overhead lighting. He sat Tomas in the hydraulic chair.

"After I saw you yesterday, I made up some sketches for the tribals on your head. Let me know what you like."

DeJesus looked at the drawings - all were beautifully elaborate. Some were more graceful and curving - reminiscent of a gothic cathedral - others were more intense and blocky. He picked out one with sweeping curves with narrow and wider lines. "This one."

"That's my favorite too. It's gonna look really fierce on your head. What's the brand gonna be on the other side?"

"FUCKER" Noel grinned.

Tomas blushed.

Noel chuckled. "Well, it's true, guapo! You got the stamina of a goddamned bull!" He turned to Soto. "Tomas here can do at least twenty guys a night. Nice and gentle, or a real punishment fuck. Don't matter to him. His tool is ready, willing and able!"

" 'FUCKER' it is then."

"Tomas, this is gonna hurt. Your head is very sensitive, particularly right in the temple area. Any time you want to take a break, let me know, okay?"

Tomas nodded.

"First thing I'm gonna do is trace the designs on your head. Then I'm gonna ink in the outline. After that, I fill in the centers. I just want to let you know what I'm doing. You ready?"

"Yep. Go ahead."

Binki used a thin marker to draw the designs on his scalp. After thirty minutes, he finished.

"You like what you see, buddy?"

He brought Tomas over to a mirror. He saw the outlines of the tattoos that would soon be a permanent part of him. He turned one way and saw the tribal tat snaking around his head and down his neck; he turned the other way and saw "FUCKER" outlined in block lettering. His cock grew hard within his c-ring.

"Looks great, Binki."

"Okay, let's start getting you inked up."

The tattoo needle felt like a very fine pinching moving around his head. After about 45 minutes, Soto stopped. "You doing okay, Tomas?"

"Fine. Anything wrong?"

"Nope. Just want to rest my hands a bit."

Noel came over and looked at the work. He nodded his head in appreciation. "Looks nice, papi. Real nice."

Soto took up a new machine with a wider tip. "I'm all done with the outlining. Now for the fill. This'll go a lot faster." It also hurt far more. Tomas gritted his teeth as Binki worked around his head.

Another half-hour passed. The tattooist put down the gun and looked at his work. "Nice. You look real good Tomas. Want to take a look?"

"Sure!"

Tomas walked over to the mirror and stared at himself in amazement. He looked surprisingly different. Better. Rougher. Edgier. With the tats, Dax Griffin was no more. Tomas DeJesus stared back at him and grinned.

"Damn, chulo! You look fine!"

"I feel great! Thanks Binki!"

"We're not done yet. You also get the spikes."

"WHAT?"

"You run the gang with Xavier now, amor. You get the mohawk too."

Tomas grew even harder with anticipation and desire. He could feel himself begin to leak beneath his jeans.

"I'm gonna make incisions in your scalp and epoxy the screws and backings onto your skull. Once they heal up in a few weeks, we can put in the spikes. Now, for this part, I need to put you under. How much do you weigh?"

"About one eighty-five."

Soto went over to a small refrigerator and took out a vial of liquid. He went over to a wall cabinet and took out a disposable syringe, a rubber strap and some alcohol pads. He tied the strap over Tomas' left bicep.

"Make a fist and squeeze a couple of times." In a moment, the vein in Tomas' arm popped up. He swapped the area with the pad. He filled the syringe up to about the halfway mark and gently inserted the tip into the other man's arm and pressed down the plunger. He took off the strap.

Almost immediately, Tomas felt slightly dizzy. The last thing he saw was Noel's smiling face. "See you in your dreams, guapo!"

He passed out.

* * *

Tomas swam back to consciousness. His head felt sore and his body ached; something akin to a moderately bad hangover throbbed through his brain. The gang boss found himself lying on the padded table. Noel sat in one of the chairs near him, reading Adelante magazine. He looked up and smiled when he saw him awake.

"Hey papi ... you're one real bad-ass sex machine now!"

The gang leader sat up slowly and reached up to head to feel four screws coming out of his skull. The skin felt tender and swollen. His vision was fuzzy and he rubbed his eyes to clear them. His sight cleared and he gasped to see intricate blackwork sleeves on each arm. The tats began at the wrist; he pushed up the sleeves of the loose shirt to see they ended at the top of his shoulders.

"Holy fucking shit." he said softly as he looked at the amazing art now a permanent part of him.

"Xavier and I thought you'd like it." Noel licked his lips. "Just makes you one goddamn super-hot latin fucker!!"

"Stop drooling on my floor, Noel." Binki bustled into the back room. "How you feeling, buddy?"

"Still a little woozy. How long have I been out?"

"About six hours. That was a lot of work on your arms. You like them?"

"They're incredible, Binki. Amazing. I can't believe the detail on them!"

Soto smiled. "Glad to hear that. Now ... you got stitches in your head right now around each screw. We're gonna take them out in a week. I want you to gently massage some shea butter in three times a day, ok? I also want you to take long, cool showers twice a day. Any bleeding or scabs, clean off with some cotton and peroxide. Loose shirts, too."

He looked sternly at Noel and Tomas. "And nothing strenuous! Your arms are gonna be sore for about two weeks. When you come back then, we can put in the spikes. And then you can go back to doing anything you want."

Lastly, he handed the gang boss a bottle of pills. "Antibiotics. Three times a day for ten days. Eat something before you have one, and drink a lot of liquids!!"

"Thanks for everything, Binki!" Noel helped Tomas off the table and the two left the shop.

* * *

"Looks good, Tomas. Everything healed up nicely. No scarring either. I do good work!" Binki chuckled, looking critically at the screws. He ran his hands along the tattoos on the gang leader's head and nodded. "Nice. I used a new material called EverBlack. This stuff won't oxidize for about 50 years. Let's see those arms."

Tomas took off the loose shirt and Binki gently felt each arm, massaging the tats as he moved up. "No pain? No itching?"

"Nope. They felt fine after a week, but I've been good patient." He laughed. "Noel's been climbing the walls, though. Tonight, we're gonna celebrate." He winked at the tattooist.

Soto chuckled. He went to a cabinet and came back with a small plastic box. He opened it. Inside were four spikes and four button caps.

"Here they are ... 316 surgical steel ... ready?"

Tomas smiled. "I've been ready for two weeks! Anything special to do?" He stroked them.

"Nope, just twist them on - clockwise to put them on, counterclockwise to take 'em off." When you're not wearing the spikes, just put the rounded caps on."

DeJesus lifted a spike to his head. He placed it over a screw and began to twist. He stopped when he felt a gentle pressure on his scalp. Three more times he brought a spike up and twisted it on. When he was done, he turned to Binki. "How do I look?"

The tattooist stared in wonder. "Papi, you look in-fucking-credible!! See for yourself!"

Tomas looked in the mirror. The facial tattoos, the pierced nips and the inked sleeves had already cranked his libido permanently up to the redline. Staring at himself now - with the metal mohawk - blasted him over that point; he had a raging hardon and the crotch of his low-cut black jeans bulged obscenely in response.

Binki cleared his throat. "Uh, Tomas?"

DeJesus turned to the tattooist. He raised his eyebrows.

Soto had blushed scarlet. "Tomas, you look so fucking hot ..."

The gang boss gave him a wicked grin and padded over to the tattooist. He wrapped his arms around Binki's waist and nibbled along his jaw. "You want a little something, handsome? Hmmmm?? I think all your good work deserves a nice, big tip ..."

Soto moaned. "Oh, damn ... oh, shit ... Dios! I want you in me so bad!"

Tomas kicked off his sneakers and slithered out of his jeans. He usually went commando now since his initiation into the gang. His huge tool was swollen with need and the heavy c-ring made it look larger and more dangerous. Tomas easily lifted Soto onto the table. He unzipped the artist's jeans and threw them in a heap across the room. He pulled the tank top off over the other man's head and then tossed his trunks into the corner with the jeans. DeJesus looked hungrily at the dark pucker facing him.

"Where's the lube, guapo?" he asked huskily.

Soto was shaking with anticipation. He pointed to one of the cabinets. Tomas took out a bottle of Gun Oil and came back to the other man. He squirted a generous amount onto his tool and poured some into his hand. The gang boss began to rub it on and into Binki's waiting hole.

"Feels good, handsome?"

"Ohhhh, shit ... yes!" He squirmed in pleasure.

"It's gonna feel even better, soon." Tomas' glans paused at the entrance of the dark hole in front of him and he slowly pushed himself in.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!" Soto moaned.

Tomas buried his shaft deep within the other man and his skin-hot cockring made contact with the other's asscheeks. He began a deep, gentle rhythm that had both men savoring the experience. Give and take. In and out.

"Faster, amor! Faster!" Soto begged.

"Not yet, tesorito, not yet." Tomas said as he brushed his lips against the other's chest. Binki whimpered.

The gang boss continued this way for a while and then began to slowly increase his thrusts, both in speed and intensity. He pistoned in and out of the man beneath him and both yelled as he buried his tool deep within the tattooist and released himself.

He pulled out and gave the other man's raging member an appreciative lick. Then another. Then another. He began nibbling down the shaft until he reached the tight sac and twirled his tongue around the velvet mounds. Soto arched his back and screamed as a load shot out of him and onto his chest.

Binki gave a shaky laugh. "That tat doesn't do you justice, papi. It should say 'All-Star Fucker' !!"

Tomas cleaned himself up with a damp towel and smiled. "Hey, whenever you want some, just ask!" He proceeded to stuff himself back into the snug jeans and pulled a tight black t-shirt over his torso. The gang boss gently traced around the spent man's lips and gave him a soft kiss.

"See you around, chulo..."

* * *

DeJesus reveled in the hungry stares he received as he returned to the apartment. "Rosa?" he called out. He put the bag of groceries down.

"In the kitchen, Tomasito!" was the reply.

Rosa was at the counter preparing some rabo encendido for dinner. She stopped in amazement when he entered the room.

"Dios Mio ..." she breathed.

He smiled. "Te gusta el estilo?" He struck a pose.

She laughed as he hugged her. "You look so ... so ... "

"Sexy?"

"I was going to say 'intimidating' !! Noelito is going to be so happy to see you!"

"I know ... it's been hard on him these past two weeks - he's had to tiptoe around me like I was going to break!"

She slapped him playfully on the arm. "Well no more! I can just imagine what my dos papis are going to be doing tonight!"

He blushed beneath his tan.

"You make Noel so happy, Tomasito. You make all of us so happy. It was a gift from God the day you came home with him."

Tomas lifted her up and swung her around. He gave her a joyful kiss. "I know. That was the first day of the rest of my life!"

The gang boss spent the rest of the afternoon with Rosa and preparation of the dinner went quickly. Tomas had become quite the cook and prepared arroz con dulce for dessert. Rosa tasted the sweet pudding and her eyes sparkled.

"My abuelita's pudding didn't taste half as good!"

"I added allspice and slivers of apricot to the recipe."

The door opened and closed. "Mama?"

"In here, Noelito!"

The underboss came through the door and stared slackjawed at his lover. Tomas gave him a sinful grin. "Te gusta que te ves, cielito?"

"Damn!" he gasped. He ran his fingers over the spikes, caressed his hands down the other man's arms and wrapped Tomas in an embrace. The two kissed deeply. When they broke apart, Noel grinned at him.

"Oh, madre de Dios ... Si, absolumente. Si !"

* * *

Tomas was in an apron when the doorbell rang. Enrique Vega cocked an eyebrow at the gang leader and the floral smock and shook his head. "Tomas, THAT does not go with the steel mohawk!"

DeJesus chuckled. "C'mon in!"

Blanca's partner in the salon (and her best friend) was a devastatingly handsome man; brown hair cut short in a fade accented deep brown eyes and a strong jaw covered with designer stubble. The stylist also sported an intricate tattoo half-sleeve on his left arm. Enrique was wearing a light blue t-shirt and tight faded jeans. As he followed Tomas into the kitchen, he whistled at the sight of the other man's muscular shoulders bunching under the thin shirt and the hard, firm ass beneath the sinfully snug jeans.

"Damn, papi - I'd love to see that body naked on top of me!"

Tomas grinned. "Is that a request to join Los Brazos, Ricky?"

"Oh, hell no! I like my hair too much!"

Dinner took on a party atmosphere. Enrique had brought a large platter of pollo frito and sorullos, as well as a few bottles of wine. By the middle of the meal, everyone - including Rosa - was slightly tipsy and could not stop laughing at Ricky's recounting of the misadventures on his recent trip.

"Did you make the arroz con dulce, Blanca?"

Noel snickered. "Blanca? Tomas made it. Blanca burns water." She punched her brother in the arm. Hard. Noel had been leaning back in his chair. Blanca's punch unbalanced him and knocked him onto the floor.

"OW!" He rubbed his shoulder. Tomas and Ricky roared with laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"You should see the look on your face, amor ... it's ... it's priceless!" DeJesus picked up the overturned chair and helped Noel up back from the floor. He placed a hand on his leg and began to caress it. Tomas nibbled his lover's neck. "Ready for some action after dinner tonight?" he whispered.

"Mama, you need help washing the dishes?" Noel yelled.

* * *

Tomas and Noel made up for the two weeks of lost time. Tomas took the underboss gently and the moans of pleasure were interspersed with laughter and whispered endearments. Noel wanted Tomas to make love to him with the spikes on; DeJesus was more than happy to oblige.

"Papi ... you make me feel so damned good..." Noel kissed him deeply.

"Oh, mi tesorito, what did I ever do without you?" Tomas stroked his thighs.

The gang leader continued to lavish attention on Aguilar until the wine caught up with other man and he fell asleep. Tomas, however was still amped from the day's activities and decided to do a bit of computer surfing before he went to bed. Carefully levering himself from the bed, DeJesus moved over to the small desk and turned on the laptop - he 'borrowed' the wireless internet connection from the family upstairs.

DeJesus logged into his secret gmail account and received a shock - an email was waiting for him from Stanley Pennington. Shakily, he clicked the entry to open it.

Hey Dax,

If you're reading this email, it means two things. One, something really, really bad has happened to me and two, my security monitors are still active and recording the goings-on at M&S. You're the only guy I can trust with this knowledge. If something did happen to me - and if it wasn't an accident - help me.

Yours,

Stan

What followed was directions and access codes. Dax Griffin would have been at a loss as to what to do - Tomas DeJesus, however, grinned wickedly to himself.

* * *

(23 months earlier)

The scene in Stanley Pennington's office was one of organized chaos. Police photographers, forensic teams and uniformed officers did their work in a deliberate and controlled manner. The police detective ran his rubber-gloved hand over the desk chair and sorted through the images parading through his mind.

Captain Tanner Morgan had been infected with a top-secret military nanovirus which granted him heightened physical and mental prowess. His twin brother ran a hidden army outpost in the Middle East. Telepathy between others similarly exposed often developed; each person though, found other psychic talents come to the fore.

In Morgan's case, it was psychometry. He could pick up impressions and facts from merely touching an object belonging to a perpetrator - or in this case, a victim. He knew that Stanley Pennington had been attacked by surprise - the man had never seen it coming. He also knew that the alleged killer - Dax Griffin - was innocent. Unfortunately, there was only one eyewitness. His visions were not something that would bring a conviction. Not without evidence.

"Where's the witness?" he asked one of the uniforms.

"In his office, Cap. Down the hall and three doors to the right."

Tanner walked down the hall and entered Parker Hastings' office. The man was busily tapping away at his computer.

"Mr. Hastings? I have a few questions for you."

Parker looked up and gave the police captain a smile. "Have a seat. I'll be right with you."

Hastings finished his email and turned to Morgan. "I told the other detective everything that happened. It happened so suddenly - Stan accused Dax about the illegal activities and he flew into a rage and stabbed him. Then he ran out."

Tanner glared at him. Hastings found himself growing unexpectedly aroused by the handsome policeman. Dark hair, a bit of 5 o'clock shadow and clothes that did little to hide the incredibly chiseled and muscular body had Parker lusting after the man as soon as he entered the office.

"You're a fucking liar."

Parker blinked. "W-what?"

"I know you killed Pennington, you sonofabitch. And I know you've framed an innocent man. I just can't prove it. Believe me, when I get the evidence, I'll have a front row seat as they put those lethal injection needles into your fucking arms."

He got up and stormed out.

* * *

Parker Hastings was working late at the office. The only ones left were the hispanic cleaning crew - one man polishing the floor and another emptying trash baskets into a large rolling container. Both men were hairless.

Probably going bald anyway - must've shaved off the rest - but looks fucking hot, though ... he thought to himself. All of a sudden, the corridor outside his office was filled with smoke. He looked up to see flames licking out of the large container and the man desperately trying to smother the fire. The floor polisher ran over to help the other man. The flames reached higher. One of them saw Parker in his office. "Mister, you'd better get out of here!"

Hastings wasted no time. He grabbed his jacket and briefcase and sprinted out of the office. The two men grinned at each other. When Parker left, he failed to notice another bald latino in the elevator corridor. Although he was heavily muscled, the man moved like a shadow behind him. He reached out and quickly put the banker into a sleeper hold. At that point, the other two men came out from a service entrance, still pushing the large container. The banker was dumped into the wheeled bin and some additional trash was thrown on top. The heavily-built latino opened the doors to the service elevator and the three left the building.

* * *

Parker woke suddenly at a sharp smell and found himself stripped naked and tied securely to a heavy wooden chair. The muscular latino threw away the ammonia capsule. He gave the banker an evil smile and a not-too-soft slap across the face.

"Glad you're up, buddy. We didn't wanna start the fun with you still knocked out ..." The thug was naked from the waist up, and ran a hand across Parker's jaw. "Oh, yeah ... we're gonna have lots of fun with you ..." Hastings twisted his head away.

The other man rubbed his substantial crotch and laughed. As he turned, an intricately colored tattoo sleeve danced across his massive arm. The man's upper body was heroic and the camo pants did little to hide the musculature of the man's thighs. Despite the situation (or perhaps because of it) Hastings found himself becoming excited.

Parker heard heavy footfalls and another man entered the banker's line of sight. Where the first man was merely physically intimidating, this one carried himself with a merciless air of power. Four steel spikes jutted out from his bald head, and an intricate black tattoo covered one side of his skull. Dark wraparound glasses covered his eyes. Blackwork tattoos crawled down both muscular arms. His pecs were like two slabs of concrete and his incredible six-pack was highlighted by the tight black t-shirt. Faded black jeans enclosed strong legs, and knee high engineer boots made the other latino a sight inspiring dread. His face was flinty and unreadable.

"Have your fun, Miguel, but there's not gonna be a lot left over when I get done with him. Put him in the sling."

The gang leader's voice seethed with hostility. He grabbed the banker by the jaw. "The guyz here are gonna be drilling every hole of yours they can get. You'd better cooperate or you'll find your own fucking cock sliced off and stuffed down your throat. Comprende?"

Something about the gang leader was frighteningly familar - what, Parker couldn't place. The man gave him a vicious slap across the face. "I said, asshole ... 'Understand?' " Hastings nodded.

"Good."

In a moment, Hastings was untied from the chair and placed into the sling. Hands and feet were fastened to the sling and a heavy leather collar was placed around his neck. Another rope was attached to the collar and the banker's head was pulled down and backwards.

Parker could see he was surrounded by a group of naked latino men. All bald, all grinning in anticipation. He recognized the floor cleaner from M&S. Every man had a heavy metal cockring surrounding his massive tool and many were rubbing themselves with pent-up desire. There was a constant murmur going through the crowd.

The gang leader held up his hands for quiet. The group fell silent.

"Okay, guyz. You know the rules. Same as before with Eduardo. But this cabron isn't here to join. Do whatever you want to him. I just want him breathing by the time you finish. Ready? First one up ... 18!"

Another man with facial tattoos stepped up between Hastings' spread legs. "Tails." he said.

The banker struggled within his bonds.

The second tattooed man laughed and twisted the captive man's nips. He hissed in pain. "It ain't gonna do you any good, joto ... may as well enjoy it. You're gonna be here a long time..." With that, the man shoved his engorged member into Parker's ass in one brutal thrust. The banker screamed.

"41!" the gang leader called next.

* * *
Parker woke up to find himself tied again into the heavy chair. The room was empty save for the gang leader with the spikes and the other man who had initially raped him. Again, both men were naked, save for the metal cockrings.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Hastings croaked. His throat and ass were sore and painful from the repeated invasions of the gangs' massive tools.

"You are one incredibly stupid bastard, Parker. Look at me. Look real close." Tomas took off his dark glasses and grabbed the other man's chin. He twisted the captive's head so he could stare directly into the other man's face.

Hastings had no choice. He looked at the gang leader - his nose, his eyes. The shape of his lips. A terrifying realization formed in his mind.

"D-Dax?"

The other man gave him a malevolent grin. Tomas let go of his face.

"Dax Griffin is dead. You murdered him just like you did Stan Pennington. I'm Tomas DeJesus. And I'm gonna make sure you pay for it."

Tomas got up and walked behind the banker. "In some way, I should forgive you for what you did. If you hadn't framed me, I wouldn't have met up with Noel here and the rest of the gang.

Unfortunately for you, I'm no longer a very forgiving man."

He showed the banker a heavy and sharp cleaver.

"We tend to do things the old fashioned way here in Los Brazos. Tell me Parker, do you remember the play we saw in Windsor? 'Titus Andronicus'?"

Hastings' eyes widened in terror.

"You stole my life. And you stole Stan Pennington's."

Tomas turned to Noel. "Get the cutting board, amor. Pull out his hand and hold it steady."

Hastings began to scream as Noel placed a heavy wooden board under his forearm and pulled his hand painfully tight against it. Tomas raised the cleaver and with a swift downward motion, chopped off the right hand of his former lover about four inches up from the wrist. Blood fountained out of the severed limb.

"Seal it up, Noelito."

The underboss took a small portable cooking coil from the table behind the screaming banker. It glowed cherry red. Noel shoved it onto the open wound. The smell of singed meat filled the air and the banker's screams reached a new crescendo. Noel moved the board beneath the other hand. The cleaver flashed down again.

* * *

Tanner Morgan smelled the sour odor of vomit as soon as he entered the precinct. As he turned into the corridor where his office was located, he saw one of his detectives - hand to his mouth - rushing to the bathroom. Another white-faced officer stood close by.

"What's going on?"

"See for yourself, Cap. It ain't pretty."

Several EMTs were in his office, surrounding a man in a chair. As they moved aside, Morgan could see that he had been tortured; his eyes were dark bloody holes and he moaned and gibbered weakly- his tongue had been ripped from his mouth. Both hands were gone; the stumps batted feebly at the technicians around him. He was tied into a wheelchair. Tanner's stomach did a slow roll - thank God he had not eaten yet.

"Any idea who he is?"

One of the detectives nodded. "Name's Parker Hastings. He's some big shot at an investment bank. There was a big envelope tied around his neck with your name on it." He pointed to the item on the desk.

Morgan opened the envelope. Inside were several sheets of paper and a DVD. He took out the papers and began to read:

Dear Captain Morgan,

Enclosed please find a copy of surveillance footage taken by M&S internal security. As you will see, Parker Hastings was directly responsible for the death of Stanley Pennington. I have made sure that he would not be in any position to escape justice a second time. If you require the original recordings, they may be subpoenaed and accessed using the directions below.

Regards,

A friend.

"God-fucking-damn ..." the captain whispered. I swore I'd see you charged for the murder. Whoever did this to you needs to be congratulated.

* * *
NEW YORK POST

WALL STREET KILLER GETS 'DEXTERED'

A grisly discovery worthy of the Showtime serial killer Dexter Morgan was made today at the Seventh Precinct. Police were greeted with tortured investment banker Parker Hastings tied to a wheelchair and found in the offices of the detective division. No witnesses saw how the victim entered the building. Hastings had been brutally blinded and had both hands lopped off. In addition, his tongue had been torn out. Also found on his person was incontrovertible evidence linking him to the nearly two-year-old murder of Stanley Pennington, the former chief of security at Margrath and Skillion. "I had never believed in the guilt of Dax Griffin" said Captain Tanner Morgan of the Seventh Precinct. "Something just never sat right with me and the evidence we have now received proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that Parker Hastings was the murderer. At last, justice has been served." The investment banker will be moved to St. Luke's Hospital for treatment of his injuries. Captain Morgan has also indicated that the Pennington case will be reopened and despite the injuries, Hastings will be charged with first-degree murder.

* * *
As soon as Morgan entered his apartment, he felt something was off. A dark shadow was standing by the large window and the moonlight cast a faint glow on the gleaming steel spikes on the figure's hairless head. He felt no sense of danger from the dark figure, only a restless energy. With Morgan's enhanced vision, he could clearly see the handsome man and the intricate tattoos on the side of his skull.

"I'd prefer if you didn't turn on the lights." the figure said.

Morgan sat down on the sofa. "That was a pretty violent thing you did to Hastings."

Tomas turned. "What I did was simply the traditional method of dealing with thieves and bearers of false witness, captain."

"Call me Tanner."

The spiked figure nodded. "Revenge is a dish best served cold ... And in this case, bloody." He flashed the policeman a wickedly cheerful grin.

Morgan shivered. In the silvery light, he could see how much the former investment banker had changed. In addition to the spikes in his head and the tattoos on his face, intricate black inkwork crawled down his brutally developed arms. His skin was light tan and he sported the physique of an avenging Fury. Only his eyes remained the same - a beautiful pale brown - however, they were hard ... matched by the unyielding set of his face. No one could ever confuse this dangerous man with the investment banker he once was.

Tanner got up and stood next to the gang leader. "You okay with how everything turned out? You're an innocent man now, Griffin. What about the uh ...?" he motioned to the spikes and tats.

DeJesus gave a chuckle. "I only wish I could attend the execution. But Dax Griffin doesn't exist anymore, Tanner. He died the same day as Stan. My name is Tomas now. As for me, I'm doing quite well. Much better than ever before. But thanks for asking. And thanks for believing in me."

Tomas continued. "I just wanted to express those feelings in person." He brought a hand around the captain's neck and drew him into a deep kiss. Tanner stroked down the other man's back and rested his hand on the muscular ass. After a long moment, the gang leader broke the embrace and headed out of the apartment.

The door closed quietly behind him.Tanner stood in the empty room. "Good bye, Tomas. Good luck."

* * *

I've always wondered how deep our "civilization" truly lies within each of us.

There's an old saying, "Scratch an Englishman - find a pirate."

I remember a ways back during one of the "Outer Limits" or "Twilight Zone" marathons an episode where aliens deprive a town of life's basic necessities - television, radio, electricity - and watch the inhabitants revert quickly to barbarism towards each other. That idea was floating around in my head when I saw realface318's videos on YouTube. This man is truly amazing - the ideas that he comes up for in his productions are only outdone by his execution of them. One that particularly caught my eye was the one of a spiked skinhead having a smoke and gearing up for a night of havoc - large knife in the boot and a pistol in the small of his back. This got me to thinking how would someone react if they found themselves in that type of demimonde.

For long-time readers of the blog, you may see a few similarities between Dax Griffin/Tomas DeJesus and Richard Borden. Both men found themselves thrust into the criminal world and both discovered their innate talents there. I don't know if Tomas is more violent than Richard - in their own ways, I think each is a terribly dangerous and vengeful man.

As far as the final torture scenes go, a good measure of inspiration for this comes from medieval Ottoman law and Shakespeare's play, "Titus Andronicus". I have to say that particular revenge fantasy had been running through my mind for a while. I had been involved in a nasty legal proceeding for over 10 years and this is what I would have loved to do to the damn lawyer on the other side!