Strikeout

(For you, Nick ...)

Texas sunlight streamed into the bedroom and Brody Jennings woke slowly as the bands of light washed over him. Deep blue eyes fluttered open, complementing a strong handsome face with a square jaw, curly brown hair and a powerful and athletic physique. He stretched naked under the thin white sheets and smiled as he stroked the muscled expanse of his smooth tanned chest. Today's the big day! he thought to himself as he got out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

Brody's first love had been baseball. Ever since he was in the peewee leagues in Hewlitt, Texas it was something he had lived and breathed for. Jennings had been a star player at Midway HS and it was his performance there that had earned him a coveted sports scholarship to Texas A&M University. Coach Braddock had hinted that a number of talent scouts would be at today's game and starting to court potential players for the major leagues. Though Jennings was only a sophomore, but he knew that first impressions were always the strongest. Getting onto the roster of the Astros or the Royals was something he dreamed of. Gaining the eye of one of those scouts would be the first step on his path to becoming a professional player.

The young man had been rewarded for his red-hot start to the season on February 23rd as he was named the Phillips 66 Big 12 Player of the Week, the league office announced. Brody had started all four games at first base for the top-ranked Aggies the prior weekend, marking the first starts of his career. He hit .900 (9-for-10) with a triple, home run and five RBIs while scoring 11 of A&M’s 42 runs in a four-game sweep of Wright State. The first baseman was flawless in the field defensively as well, having reached base safely in 15 of his 16 plate appearances that weekend. He finished with hits in his last five at bats, scoring four of those five times. Jennings became the 15th Aggie player to earn the award.

After washing the sleep from his face, the ball player pulled on a pair of running shorts and laced up a pair of well-worn Adidas track shoes. A leisurely run around the Anderson track would get him ready for the game later that afternoon.

* * *

The run completed, Brody stood under the shower head and let the water wash over his body. He relaxed, closing his eyes and following his coach's advice of sports visualization. He could see the fans in the stands of the stadium; he could see himself at bat, see the OSU pitcher slackjawed as he made a grand slam; he could see the scoreboard clock tick down to zero as the score read in the Aggie's favor. Somewhat greedily, he also pictured himself being approached by more than one scout. He spread the vanilla-scented body wash over his slabbed pecs and traced the deep crevasses and plateaus of his abs with the slick fluid. Despite the cool water, Jennings found himself growing hard and excited. His hand moved lower, massaging his 8" tool. The mushroom head began to swell as his fingers traveled along the rigid shaft. His breathing increased and after a few moments, he felt his balls churn and tighten; his hand stroked faster and faster until he shouted, a stream of opalescent cum shooting from him and hitting the far wall of the shower. He opened his eyes to see the sticky fluid crawl slowly down tiles and swirl down the drain.

The combination of the warm water and the stroking had relaxed the young ballplayer and only served to improve his mental balance. Brody turned off the water and toweled himself dry. Wrapping the fluffy blue towel around his waist, he smiled at himself in the mirror and proceeded to shave.

* * *
The Locker Room.

Brody greeted his teammates as he sauntered over to his locker. He dropped his bag onto the bench and spun the combination to reveal his Aggie uniform and cleats, plus cap and gloves. Jennings sat on the bench and undid his sneakers. He then shimmied out of his snug jeans and pulled the tight t-shirt over his head. The first baseman bent over and tucked his Nikes under the metal shelving. His rosy pucker was framed by the white straps of the jock traveling down and around his muscled legs. Brody saw a pair of red and white Adidas step up next to him.

"Ready, sport?" The voice was gentle and deep at the same time. Brody straightened up to look into the smiling light brown face of Rayshawn Rodriguez, the Aggies catcher.

Jennings grinned at the other player. Rodriguez, a junior, had lost a bet last year and had been obliged to shave his head. Once done, he found that he enjoyed the feel of a smooth pate and kept himself bald. A short, razor cut beard highlighted his square jaw and full lips. The catcher stripped off his polo to reveal a strongly muscled torso - he also played as a running back for the Aggies football team.

"God, Ray-Ray, I am stoked for the game today! I can't wait to get out on the field!"

Rodriguez grinned at his teammate. "Coach said that there's gonna be a number of eyes on us today .... and maybe not just the fans, it's scout season!" He pulled the grey and maroon compression shirt over his frame and smoothed it over his muscles. His biceps and triceps strained the silky material.


"I know ... damn, I'm jumpy today." Brody pulled the sliding shorts over his jock and proceeded to pull the compression shirt over his head. He then stepped into his uniform pants and pulled them up.


"OSU's got no chance against you, Brody ... you're the best we've got!" The catcher was tucking his jersey into his pants, which did nothing to disguise his powerful legs and hard, firm ass. Rodriguez sat down and pulled on his cleats. He reached into his locker for his shin guards and face mask.
"Thanks, bud! See you outside!" Brody slipped on his gloves and jogged out for some pre-game warmups.

* * *

The history between the A&M Aggies and the OSU Cowboys has been quite colorful and intense over the years.

Particularly in Big 12 play.

The history was on the minds of the players of both teams, and all were aware of the stakes involved in this game. Overall, the Cowboys lead, 33-22, and also lead 23-17 since the formation of the league in 1997:

• For nine of the last 10 meetings, and 16 of the last 19 overall, games have been decided by two runs or less.
• Eight of the last nine games between the two teams at Olsen have been decided by two runs or less.
• A&M has won the series opener in each of the last two seasons, only to see OSU rally to win the final two games both times.
• There have been three series sweeps since Big 12 play began ... A&M swept the Cowboys in 1999 at Olsen Field, and OSU recorded home sweeps in 2000 and 2006.
• The Aggies are 8-4 against OSU in Big 12 series openers.
• The Aggies and Cowboys have met twice in NCAA Tournament play—in the 1984 Midwest
• Regional in Stillwater, and three times in the 1987 Midwest Regional in Starkville, Mississippi

Today's game proved to be just as nerve-wracking and tense as all of the other matchups. Inning by inning - play, by play - the score moved in the Aggie's favor and thence to the Cowboys and back again. Then, in the eighth inning, the Aggies appeared to be pulling ahead.

Brody was up at bat and was watching the tells of the Cowboys pitcher in front of him. The arm cocked back, the ball sped towards him. He swung.

"Strike One!"

Jennings shook his head. How could I have missed that? He squared his shoulders and rotated the bat in small circles as he readied to drive the ball out of the park. The pitcher grinned at him.

He swung again.

"Strike Two!"

Brody was shaken. Maybe it was nerves or the sense of anticipation today about the scouts. He saw the ball come at him in slow motion and felt his arms drive the bat towards it quarry. The roar of the crowd faded as he concentrated with all his might.

"Strike Three! You're out!"

Time sped up and returned to normal. Jennings looked on in horror as the scoreboard reflected his performance. Boos erupted from the home side of the stadium as the OSU fans cheered and began a chant which was soon picked up and gained momentum.

"Bro-dee ... Bro-dee ... Bro-dee ..."

The Aggies game deteriorated from that point on. More missed opportunities and errors caused the A&M players to lose by a run. The OSU fans were ecstatic. As soon as he could, Brody fled the field and ran into the stadium complex.

* * *It was a dejected team that trudged into the A&M locker room. Coach Wilson Braddock tried to put on a positive spin on the efforts of the players, but was having no success.

"C'mon fellas - remember - it's only a game. There's always the next time..."

"Yeah, and have Brody freeze up and make us lose again ..." Brooks Luther grumbled.

Ray grabbed the young man by his shirt front and slammed him against the lockers. "Don't you EVER talk that way about Brody, Brooks - you hear me?" The other junior was taken aback by the vehemence in the catcher's voice and glare.

"HEY! None of that! It could have been any one of you! Jennings puts his heart and soul into the game, which is more than I can say for some of you here. Put him down, Ray... Brooks, you have a damn nerve blaming him!"He looked at another one of the infielders.

"I didn't see you do any better Clayton!" The young man blushed.

Braddock turned to the shortstop. "And Dylan, you were sloppy today ... very, very sloppy." The player turned away and had the good sense to be embarrassed. The coach took a deep breath.

"Enough recriminations, guys. Let's have a nice hot supper and talk about how to do better next game."

He looked about. "Where *is* Brody?"

Rayshawn spoke up. "He bolted off the field after that chant started, Coach. He wasn't here when we came in. I'll go look for him."

* * *

"You're one hard man to find, bud." Rodriguez leaned against the doorframe to the empty faculty lounge. "You okay?" His normally sunny face was drawn with concern. "Coach was looking for you."

Ray had taken off his jersey, but was still in the rest of his uniform. The compression shirt was darkened with sweat and the grey pants were smudged with dirt.

Brody was sitting on the wooden bench with his head in his hands. He looked up at his teammate. "I'm such a fuckup, Ray-Ray... Coach is gonna throw me off the team ..." The catcher heard the anguish in his voice and from the looks of it, the first baseman had been crying.

"Oh, dude ..." He sat down next to him and wrapped a muscular arm around his shoulder. "No, no, he's not. I got bawled out for throwing Brooks against the lockers when he started grousing about you... Some of the guys were grumbling and he lit into them good. It could've happened to any one of us. "

"But it shouldn't have happened to me!" He was trembling. "Those scouts saw how bad I was ... I'm lost my chance of ever getting into the major leagues. Jesus, Ray-Ray ... if I have to work in my dad's John Deere dealership for the rest of my life, I don't know what I'm gonna do!"

"Shhhhhh... it's only ONE game, cielito. Don't think scouts are going to base their picks on just a single play. Or a single game." He gently rocked the other player. Then Rodriguez bent over and ran his lips in a feather-light movement across the back of the first baseman's neck.

Brody stopped shaking, straightened up and looked into the concerned brown eyes and the lopsided grin of the catcher. But he didn't pull away. Ray moved closer and cradled Jenning's face in his strong hands; he then placed his full lips over the other's in a gentle kiss. And smiled. The 100-watt grin brightened the room.

" I knew it ... you're just too damn good-looking to be straight! God, I've been wanting to do that since the season started!"

Despite the circumstances, Brody could not help himself. He grinned back. "Me too. You're so fucking sexy, Ray. You've got the most beautiful eyes and seeing that shaved head makes me hard every time I look at you!"

Rodriguez trailed a hand down the front of Brody's jersey and gave his crotch a squeeze. "Let's get washed up, stud. Coach wants to get the team together for a review."

* * *

By the time the two young men re-entered the locker room, it was deserted. The other players had gone and the room echoed with the sound of their cleats on the floor. Quickly, they stripped and stood facing each other, naked. Their kisses in the lounge had been light, almost tentative. Here, in this room marked as theirs, they took on a more heady flavor. Rodriguez pulled the first baseman to him and clamped their mouths together. Ray broke the kiss and looked at the curly-haired baseman. "You okay with this?" Their crotches were still pressed hard against each other and the mutual heat spread tendrils of desire between them.

"Never better." Brody pulled the other man's head to him. He wanted to place his mouth on the catcher and make him moan with desire.

"Oh, Jesus, I love kissing you." Brody said softly. Moving his other hand to Ray's jaw, his fingers kept him prisoner there while he again deepened the kiss, using his tongue to trace his full, sensuous lips before slipping it into his mouth. Something thrummed between them now, some mutual awareness that had not been there in those many days of training together.

Rayshawn's warm palm against his cool skin felt like a brand. "I want you, Brody." His voice was husky with need and desire. There was something in his eyes, an expression that tightened the first baseman's breath even further and escalated the beat of his heart. An answering emotion swept through Rodriguez so quickly that he was taken aback by it.

Rayshawn grinned as he allowed himself to be pushed onto his back. His legs parted for Brody and he felt the weight of the other settle on him. His hands roamed over Jenning's shoulders, kneading the muscles and bones. One of his legs slid up 's along Brody's calf and settled comfortably atop his thigh, pinning him close. The baseman's own hands roamed over the warm skin and felt the tightening of nips as his fingers grazed lightly over the flat disks. His tongue followed his hands and he lapped eagerly, hungrily, at Ray's slabbed pecs. Brody felt his lover's hands on his back, fingers digging brutally into his shoulders. Far from being uncomfortable, the pain was a sweet sensation and spurred him on. He ground his hips against Ray's groin and grunted as his lover's leg tightened around him.

Brody reached blindly up to the bench and found the lube he had removed from his bag. Quickly, he fumbled open the bottle and spread the slick liquid over his turgid member and into his hand. He traced the pucker beneath him more deeply, his slick fingertips finding and stroking Ray’s entrance. One finger slid easily into the hot channel, bringing a long, low moan from the catcher's mouth. Deep inside, he crooked his finger against the hidden gland, then inserted another as Rodriguez shouted his pleasure. Ready as he was, Brody hurried, and as soon as the entrance was prepared he replaced his fingers with his steel-hard organ.

Slowly, he eased himself into the welcoming body, the channel caressing him as no hand or mouth ever had. "So hot," he whispered, his voice more of a low moan, "so tight." Once fully sheathed, he paused, breathing heavily to maintain control. He felt Ray's internal muscles adjust to his presence, then just as slowly as he had entered, he pulled back. He found a rhythm of thrust and withdrawal that grew in speed and intensity as the world narrowed to contain only the two of them, his hard, throbbing sex in its hot, tight sheath the center of his universe.

They moved together, each of them reaching new heights of ecstasy. The catcher's climax pushed Brody over the edge, his seed pouring deep inside the other's body. They lay together, Brody and Ray, until their ragged breathing returned to normal and until their pounding hearts quieted. The curly-haired Texan gave the catcher a soft kiss.

"C'mon, Ray-Ray ... your turn ..."

Brody got to his feet and offered a hand to his teammate. He pulled him up and they headed towards the showers.

* * *

Brody turned on the water and adjusted it to a gentle warmth. Under the softly falling water, Jennings pulled his lover close to him, wrapping arms around the darker skin until they stood entwined in each other's embrace. They had never done so before, never measured the differences of height and breadth and shape. Ray's sleek head lay against his shoulder, his feet between his, hard chest and muscular thighs pressed firmly against him. Brody placed his hands on the other's shoulders and gently walked him to stand against the tiles. Raising Ray's arms over his head, he pressed the backs of his hands against the wall.

He traced a path with one finger from the catcher's inner wrist to the inside of his elbow, resting there as if to mark the spot. Bending his head, Brody pressed his lips there against the warmed flesh, feeling the pulse beat rapid and strong beneath his lips. He drew back and did the same with the other arm, this time brushing the tip of his tongue against his skin.

"Jesus Christ Almighty ..." Ray moaned.

Brody continued the onslaught. Strong fingers danced along Rodriguez' skin. There was the straight line that ran in the middle of his chest as if to delineate both halves. His thighs were hard to the touch, the muscles bunching beneath Jennings' fingers. His flat, etched stomach and broad chest were the reason his clothes fit so impressively. The baseman played his fingers lightly over the other's nips, feeling them rise to his touch. He bent over to lave one, then the other, with his tongue. When teeth bit sharply and deeply in to the same nipple, Ray hissed his pleasure and jabbed his fingers hard against Brody's shoulders.

"More, Brody! MORE!"

Jennings kissed and licked his way down Ray's chest until he reached the small indention of his navel. His tongue poked roughly in to the opening and he chuckled as the catcher's breath caught. He continued slipping his tongue in and out, his saliva slicking the other's abdomen. He felt his lover begin to tremble and slowed his ministrations. He opened his mouth wide and lowered his head, pushing Ray deeper into his mouth.

He slid his tongue over the swollen head. Swallowed. He allowed Rodriguez to thrust his hips, pushing and straining deeper in to his mouth until his eyes watered. Brody caressed and kneaded the taut ass, forcing the heavy cock further back in his throat. He moaned at the taste of his lover. He sucked greedily, brushing his tongue over the slit.

Rayshawn raised his head and hissed loudly as his hips jerked. He could not stop the thrust of his body as he felt the tension building deep within him. He could feel his sac draw and tighten as Brody's steady rhythm brought him closer to another climax. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, trying to force a measure of control back into his body. But to no avail. Back arched, Ray screamed as he succumbed to his passions and exploded once again.

Brody tasted the salty cum as his lover's eruption spilled in to his mouth. The cock between his lips twitched and he held it steady with his tongue; his mouth's powerful suction milked the sweet fluid from his lover. He tightly clutched the hips above his head and rode the waves of Ray's pleasure even as his own climax again rocked through his body. And when his lover was spent, Brody let the cock slip from his mouth and licked along the soft curls at its base, savoring the precious drops of cum that had escaped him. Rodriguez sagged against the wall, gently stroking the head of his lover, spent.

After a few moments, Jennings got to his feet and the two began to lather each other up, laughing and kissing as the bodywash filled the showers with the faint scent of vanilla. Together they stood, teammates in a joint embrace. Not simply as lovers, Brody realized, nor only as friends. Companions, perhaps, but that word did not quite suit, either. They were partners, and thinking that, he smiled and closed his eyes, feeling Ray place a kiss on the crown of his curly head.

* * *

I like to set challenges for myself. This story had several. In addition to the double exposure technique with a digital camera and following some "bald head" techniques for one of the shower scenes, I also had never done any really serious research into baseball. The "baseball story" came about as a request from a fan on GearFetish that was fascinated by my masks. We got to chatting and I asked him if he'd like to see something in particular. He did. And I was happy to oblige. I've had baseball requests in the past, but never acted on them.

Do you think that since this guy had a great sense of humor, a deliciously sexy voice, a mind like a steel trap and a form like mortal sin that that got me to bite the bullet and do the story?

In a word, YES!

Now, I could have gone the Major League route and set out to get myself a Yankees, or Red Sox or whatever uniform. But that would have been somewhat expensive and not exactly conducive to creating my own story - after all, once you have a name and number on the back of that jersey, I felt I would be confined by multiple sets of circumstances.

College baseball, however, provided a much richer environment. And considerably less of financial burden to get "official" wear. I had done a search on eBay and the Texas A&M Aggies happened to come up in my size and for a reasonable price. Once I got the jersey, it was relatively easy to come up with matching maroon and grey pieces to complete the outfit.

I had a definite idea of what Brody Jennings would look like, and the Derl "Artist" mask and a curly brown wig served me quite well. For Ray-Ray, I used my "Latino Player" mask from SPFX and part of a urethane muscle suit - I wanted Ray to be the more physically imposing of the two lovers - I wanted him to be a man who was so certain of his strength and power that he was not afraid to be seen as caring.

Sports-wise, what's next? I've gotten some shoulder pads, new socks and these cleats and I plan to do a few re-shoots of Chris - the Trojans football player turned Navy SEAL.

Other than that, I'm not sure - I'm running out of room to keep all of this stuff!

Changeling

(My Hallmark Hall of Fame Christmas Story ... Enjoy!!)


Tom Kane pulled off the respirator mask and looked at the finished wooden pieces. The rich smell of cedar and spruce filled the air. This train set is going to be beautiful, he thought. He had carved the cedar wood himself and used vivid, primary colors for the carriages and cars; the red caboose had been the first piece he finished; it stood on the shelf, shiny and bright - soon the other pieces would be assembled and join it.

"Looks great, Tom. Some little boy is gonna love it ... God, the smell of that varnish reminds me of Christmas morning ..." Eldon Gunnarson stood filling the doorway, his prison guard uniform stretched tightly over a herculean frame. The young, white-blonde corrections officer smiled at the older convict.

"Jeff loves the horse you made for him. He won't go anywhere without it. By the way, if you feel up to it, Sarah and the kids would love to have you over again for dinner. Sounds good?"

Kane returned the smile.

"Thanks Eldon. I'd love to see the kids again. Is everything okay? You're not usually here until noon and it's only 11am."

"Yeah. Two Chippies rode up from Santa Monica to see you. Get cleaned up a bit and we'll head over to them."

* * *

Things had changed considerably (at least for him) with the new administration at Pleasant Valley State Prison. Tom had been absolutely floored when he was escorted to see Warden Douglas Banks soon after the man took over. He was darkly handsome and far younger than the former burglar had expected.

"Kane, I've looked over your record of convictions. All burglary - some of them pretty audacious - but never anything violent. You never used a weapon. Then all of a sudden, you're conveniently convicted of murder. I think you were framed."

Tom's jaw dropped open. Banks smiled.

"I can't do anything about your sentence, but at least I can make your stay here as pleasant - pardon the pun - as possible. I'm moving you to the minimum security area and I'm granting you full access to the facilities. Anything you'd like to work with, let me know and I'll take care of it. I'm also going to allow you some limited time - supervised, of course - outside the facility."

* * *

"Damn, I can't believe how nervous I am..." TJ Kane paced the well-appointed meeting room, his CHP uniform sinfully hugging every muscle of his powerful physique. Caesar-cut raven hair gleamed in the early afternoon light streaming through the windows and offered a counterpoint to the shining black leather of his boots and duty belt. TJ's well-developed arms strained the short sleeves of his uniform shirt and the muscles bunched and flexed beneath the tanned skin like sharks beneath the water. A gold Rolex gleamed on his wrist and shot rainbow scintillations around the room; that chronograph was the sole remnant to his former life of organized crime.

"... I haven't seen my dad in about twenty years. Emilio's brainwashing did a good job."

"Well, at least you can make up for lost time, Teej. There's still time to be with him." Phil Zeeman was seated at the conference room table. His short ebon hair framed a strong, handsome face and his cognac-brown eyes were twinkling beneath straight dark brows. His uniform was tight over slabbed pecs and muscular legs; the crotch of his breeches barely contained his massive package. He stretched out his boots, giving his partner and lover a big grin. "And I get to meet the father of the guy I'm going to spend the rest of my life with!"

A knock on the door, and Gunnarson escorted an older man into the room. Because of the placement of the doorway, TJ was temporarily out of view from the prisoner. Phil could see the family resemblance immediately - the same slate blue eyes, the shape of the face, the same thick eyelashes. The older Kane was rangy with a slight hunch to his shoulders - it was the type of stoop Phil had seen in those who had been in prison for a long time.

"Just ring me on the phone when you're done, fellas. Extension 1775. The warden's sending up lunch for the three of you." Gunnarson patted the convict on the shoulder and left.

Phil stood and walked over the the older man. He put out his hand and a 100-watt grin creased his face. "Mr. Kane, it's a real pleasure to meet you! I'm Phil Zeeman." He embraced him in a strong hug. Tom was shocked at the display of affection, but tentatively brought his arms up and around the officer. His shoulders were so broad, he could not reach around them. Kane's pulse quickened as he was surrounded by hard, smooth muscular flesh and the faint scent of vanilla. The fabric beneath his fingers was soft as silk and he noticed that the CHP patches had been embroidered onto the fabric as opposed to being sewn on.

"Dad?" Tommy looked over to see TJ, in the same uniform, biting his lip and looking nervous. His son was as ruggedly built - though not as broad - as the other officer and the shock at seeing him was apparent to all in the room.

"TJ! What are you doing in that uniform? Christ! Don't you know what'll happen to you if you get caught impersonating a cop? What the hell is wrong with Emilio? Is he crazy?"

"Oh, he's not impersonating a policeman, Mr. Kane .... he is one ... and a damn fine officer at that!" Phil had released the other man from his embrace, but continued to smile. "We really are California Highway Patrolmen, but our Division has a very close relationship with Lucio Giambi."

"You're a cop? What about Emilio? Or Dominic Franqui? What are they saying about this?" Tom seemed stunned at the revelations being thrown at him. Confused, he looked back and forth at the two officers.

"Don Franqui retired and turned his operations over to Lucio. Emilio's .... dead, dad. I ... I had to kill him."

Kane felt lightheaded and swayed a bit on his feet. With that statement, TJ rushed over to his father and embraced him.

"Dad, dad ... there's so many things I've found out about Emilio, and you ... and me ... and how he set you up ..."

Tom felt the wetness of warm tears on his neck. The moisture trickled down his neck and past the collar of his blue workshirt. Holding his son again in his arms brought back a rush of memories and he too began to tear up.



Kane reached out with a shaky hand and sat down. "You'd better start at the beginning TJ ... this is just too much for me to take in all at once."


* * *

"Tom, that is one of the most inhumane things I've ever heard. I'm ashamed of you." Randolph Franklin looked at his lover and there was no denying the anger in his glance. The two men were snuggled against each other on the couch. The thieves had celebrated a successful caper - Tom's this time - in their usual manner: a good dinner and an even better romp between the sheets.

"Well, how do you propose I have a kid otherwise, Randy? The stork sure ain't bringing one down the chimney." Piqued, Tom Kane glanced back at his lover. He picked up the cigarette pack and tapped one out. The burglar lit it and blew smoke up towards the ceiling.

Randolph Franklin was a highly accomplished jewel thief. And filthy rich. The two had met while robbing different stores in the same building and making their escape at the same time. While Kane worked for Emilio Leone, Franklin worked for himself. For him, the thrill was of planning a caper and pulling it off. The fun part came when he fenced the goods - usually back to the owner. Or the insurance company. The one thing the two men shared was an aversion to violence - they made sure that no one was ever hurt during a heist.

"All I'm saying is that doing that to a woman is beneath you." He stroked Kane's forehead. "You could always adopt, Tom ...."

Kane pulled away from him. "It's not the same, Randy, and you know it. For all the blabber you always hear, he wouldn't be MY flesh and blood."

He pulled his lover closer and gave him a playful kiss on the tip of his nose. "Look, Myrna Braithewaite's been giving me the eye for a long time ... we get married, I knock her up, we have a baby and then I get a divorce. Easy."

Franklin cocked an eyebrow. "And what about custody? The mother usually gets the baby, you know..."

"Myrna ain't too strong in the head, you know what I mean? She's a looker - if you like dames - the lights are on, but no one's home ... And besides, I could always ask one of Emilio's boys to talk to her about leaving town."

Randolph frowned. This was a side to his lover he hadn't seen before. And he didn't like it. Not one bit.

* * *
Despite his protests, Kane went through with his plans to father a child. Myrna was radiant in a gown that she had borrowed from one of the widows in the boarding house. Being a counter-girl in Gimbels wasn't the most well-paying of jobs - but she made do and was a beautiful bride. Tom was grinning ear-to-ear at the ceremony and at the little reception being held in his apartment. He's probably figuring how long he's got to sleep with Myrna until she gets a bun in the oven ... Randy thought sourly to himself. He grabbed a drink and knocked it back in one gulp. If he didn't love Tom as much as he did, he'd leave the burglar for good.

"Oh Randy, I'm the happiest girl in the world!" Myrna Kane threw her arms around the jewel thief.

Poor kid. "Myrna, you deserve every happiness ... if I can ever do anything for you, don't hesitate to call me." He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "I've got to go ... take care. Remember what I said."

* * *

(Fourteen months pass)

It didn't take long for Myrna to get pregnant, and nearly nine months to the day of their wedding, Thomas Kane Junior was born. TJ (as he was soon always called) was a beautiful baby, as handsome as his mother was lovely; he had the same slate blue eyes as his father and a thick mop of fine black hair. TJ was a very curious, yet quiet baby; Tom loved nothing more than spending hours holding his son in his arms. Kane's son could spend hours playing with his father's pocket watch and would laugh delightedly when he got the timepiece to chime.

Even before the baby was born, Kane's interest in his wife waned; while she was glad he did much of the household chores, as well as tending to TJ at night, she missed the intimacy the two had shared. The marriage soon began to deteriorate and Myrna developed suspicions that her husband's inattentions were due to his having an affair. After all, she thought, his incredible good looks plus his confident attitude would be a magnet for any woman.

Events came to a head one evening when TJ's mother returned from work early to their apartment. She took off her hat and was about to call out when she heard something that made her stop dead in her tracks.

"God, how I've missed fucking you ..." Tom's voice drifted in from the bedroom. TJ was in his crib in the living room. He had pulled himself up and gave his mother a happy toothless grin.

"Having to screw a dame was a chore, you know that?"

"You're in my blood, Tom ..." Randy's voice was thick with after-sex languor. "I still can't forgive you for using Myrna the way you did to get a child, but I just can't get enough of you. Or your cock. And speaking of your lovely wife, when is she expected home?"

Myrna was in shock.

"About an hour... why?"

Randy's voice took on a darkly erotic edge. "That gives me enough time to pound you senseless, take a hot shower and get dressed for the opera ... I hear that Mrs. Astor is on vacation here and has some rather beautiful new jewelry for me to steal ..."

Tears burned down Myrna's cheeks. Her suspicions that Tom was being unfaithful were true, but she had never expected his infidelity to be with his best friend. Not with another man. She quietly opened the door and left the apartment to plot her revenge.

* * *

Tom entered the boarding house and brushed the snow from the shoulders of his coat. He then took off his hat and shook it out. The day had been bitterly cold and the evening's chill was even more biting. As he headed towards the stairs, Mrs. Reynolds - the elderly landlady - opened her door.

"Mr. Kane?"

"Hiya, Mrs. R. - what's up?" Kane gave the widow a wink and a grin.

She wrung her hands. "Mr. Kane, I didn't know who to call ... Myrna left with a suitcase this afternoon, but she didn't have TJ with her ... I thought I heard a baby crying earlier. Is everything all-"

Before she could finish, Tom was bounding up the stairs. He flung open his door and stood in mute shock.

Every window was wide open and a sub-zero wind whistled through the tiny apartment. TJ was seated in his high chair with only a thin cotton shirt protecting him from the freezing temperatures; he was nearly blue with cold. As the door crashed open, he raised his little head and looked at his father and whimpered. Then his head lolled forward and he passed out.

"TJ!" Tom screamed. He rushed to his son and held him in his arms. He was cold. So cold. He grabbed an afghan from the sofa and wrapped it around the little body. Kane nearly bowled down the elderly woman as he ran out with the bundle in his arms.

* * *

"I'm not pulling any punches here, Mr. Kane - your son is in very serious condition."

The young doctor sat next to the burglar in the emergency room of the hospital. Tom was sick with anguish and worry.

"Severe hypothermia and it looks like the beginnings of pneumonia. He's also got some frostbite. What in God's name happened to him?"

"His damn mother ran away and left him in the apartment alone with all the windows open. I'll kill that bitch when I find her!"

"Well, if she was trying to kill him, she nearly succeeded. It was lucky you came home when you did or ..."

"Or what, doc?"

"Let's not go there, Mr. Kane. We have to think about your son now. He's going to require intensive care and some of the medications we'll need aren't cheap."

Tears welled in Kane's eyes and trickled down his cheeks. "I got cash, Doc. Whatever you need, you'll get. Just get him well again."

* * *

"Where the fuck is Kane? And more than that, where the fuck is the money he's been holding, Frank?" Emilio Leone fumed.

Frank Valentine rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure, boss. He hasn't been home. The apartment's neat as a pin, though. The money ain't there. We looked. The landlady hasn't seen him. I think something's up with the dame he married. She wasn't the neatest housekeeper in the world. We're keeping an eye on the place."

Leone grunted. Valentine was Emilio's brother-in-law and his chief lieutenant. The crime boss admired the way the other man handled the day-to-day operations of his criminal empire - whereas Leone would scream and rant, his brother-in-law handled things quietly, efficiently and with aplomb. When he mentioned this during one of his many tirades, Valentine gave his shoulders a near-Gallic shrug. "Different strokes for different folks, boss. You beat the shit out of someone; I just need to wrap my hand lightly around their throat. Stuff gets done one way or the other."

"I want my money, Frank. Get it and get Kane."

"Sure thing, Emilio. I'm on it." His lieutenant slipped on the camel hair overcoat, pulled the fedora onto his head and headed out of the crime boss' mansion.

* * *

"Oh ... the nurses told me they are gonna miss you so much, TJ ... you were such a good little patient they just wanted to eat you up! After your medicine, we'll eat and then I'm gonna give you a nice warm bath, and wrap you up ... just like a little cuddleb..."

"Hello Tom - it's been a while ... and Jesus Christ, you look like SHIT."

Tom Kane had opened the door to his apartment with TJ in his arms. He froze when he saw Frank Valentine sitting on his couch; long legs elegantly crossed and dapper in a dark blue pinstripe suit. Leone's right hand - "The Angel of Death" as he was called - was devastatingly handsome with thick brown hair pomaded back from a strong face and a small moustache over full lips. Along with him, was his driver, Sammy. The young thug was built like a bull and just about as bright.

Valentine stood up. "Emilio's pretty angry at you, bub. Where's the money from the Donovan heist? And where the hell have you been?" Valentine had barely recognized the burglar. He was haggard and looked like he had aged a decade over only a few months.

"TJ's been real sick, Frank. He's been in the hospital for six weeks. I've been sleeping there with him when I ain't been working."

"Working?"

"Yeah, I got a job in a coffee shop around the corner from St. Mary's. I wait tables, wash dishes, fix things ... I wanted to be close by in case the baby needed me."

"What about Myrna? Where's she been during all of this?"

Kane's face hardened. "The dame left me and TJ. I don't know where she went. Probably back to her sister in Chicago."

Valentine's face had originally been flinty, but had softened as Kane's tale of woe unspun. "You got the money here, Tom? Emilio needs to start laundering it."

A look of fear flitted across the other man's face. "Yeah, I do. But ..."

Frank cut him off. "Go get it. Let me hold the baby." He held out his arms. Tom hesitated but Sammy stepped up behind him. The sense of menace was heavy in the air. Kane handed the infant over to the other man and hurried into the bedroom.

He smiled at TJ. "Hey, sport ... you got your daddy's eyes, you know that?" He kissed the little boy and held him close. The baby nestled into his shoulder and gurgled happily. He jiggled him as he walked around.

Valentine called into the other room. "You've got a beautiful boy, Tom ... I hate to say it, but he's a helluva lot cuter than my nephews. And better behaved. They cry a blue streak all the time."

"Thanks, Frank." came the muffled reply. Kane emerged carrying a damp oilcloth satchel. Valentine nodded to his driver to take the bag.

"Sammy, take this down to the car and warm the Packard up. Tom's coming back with us to see Don Leone." The driver reached for his coat.

"Leave it." The thug gave him a hurt look.

"But boss, it's cold outside..."

"Yeah, and you're going right into the car. You ain't gonna catch a cold ... Scram!" The other man left.

Frank continued to hold little TJ and gave him another kiss. "You said 'But' before, Tom. What happened with Myrna? Not a lot of reasons why a dame walks out like that and leaves her kid behind. Caught you in flagrante delicto with your boyfriend?"

Tom turned white as a sheet. Frank chuckled. "It takes one to know one, bud. I have to be super-discreet around Emilio. He'd put a bullet in the back of my head otherwise without a second thought. She tried to take it out on the baby?"

Kane nodded mutely. He was shocked at Frank's revelation. Almost as shocked finding the horrible note Myrna had left for him when he returned to the apartment after he brought TJ to St. Mary's:

Tom,

I came home early one night to hear you and Randy rutting in bed together. You're nothing but a filthy, perverted man - you disgust me! Now I know why you married me - you never loved me, you only wanted a baby. You took away my happiness and ruined my life - now I'm going to return the favor. I'm going to take away the only thing you ever wanted. With any luck, he'll be dead from exposure by the time you get home.

I hope you and your lover rot in Hell.

M.

Tom had burned the letter and scrubbed the apartment until his hands were raw and bloody to remove any trace of his former wife.

"Bitch. I'll see to her for that. Anything else you wanna let me know? Better me and now than Emilio and later ..."

The burglar paused. "Not all the money's in the bag, Frank. I ... I ... had to pay the doctors and buy medicine for TJ."

Kane sank to his knees and began to weep. "He nearly died, Frank. She nearly killed my baby boy! I've got some dough saved up and the money from the restaurant job... I kept track of every penny I spent ..."

A look of annoyance crossed the mobster's face. "Oh, get up Tommy - I'm not here to whack you. How much did you use?"

"Nine hundred dollars."

Valentine sighed. "I'll talk to Emilio about it. It ain't like you spent it gambling or on painted ladies. Put on Sammy's coat and let's go down to the car, okay?"

* * *
Marguerite Leone checked the osso buco one more time. Almost done. She brushed a stray lock of honey-blonde hair from her face. Emilo Leone's sister-in-law had been married to his younger brother Johnnie. There had been a falling out between the two Leones when the younger had enlisted during the war - only to be killed in a foolish car accident when he returned home from combat, leaving Marguerite a heart-broken widow. Emilio had taken her in and she kept herself busy keeping house for the crime lord. Her beautiful face was marred by sadness and she looked far older than her thirty years.

The kitchen door flew open to admit Frank Valentine, another man and an arctic gust of air. The stranger was haggard and thin; Sammy's Chesterfield hung on his spare frame. What was decidedly strange was he held a baby dressed in a blue snowsuit and a small knit cap. The man looked terrified. Valentine put down the heavy oilcloth bag he was carrying and shut the door.

Frank kissed his sister. "Hey Margie, whatever you're cooking smells great!"

He turned to the other man. "Tom, this is my sister Margie. Let me go and talk to Emilio and then we'll settle things up."

Valentine's sister could see that the other man was shaking, and not all of it from the cold. He was frightened to death.

"Margie, this is Tom Kane and little TJ. Can you get them warmed up and find something for them to eat?"

"Certainly Frank." She was transfixed by the serious slate-blue eyes of the baby held in the other man's arms.

"I'll be back in a bit." Valentine picked up the bag and headed further into the house.

* * *

Leone was examining the ledgers of the bookmaking operations on the west side when a knock on the study door interrupted him. He lost track of the numbers he was tablulating and began to curse.

"This had better be good! Come in!"

Frank opened the door. "All done, Emilio."

"You got Kane and the money?"

Valentine nodded. He didn't look happy.

"What?"

"Kane spent some of the dough..."

Emilio's face began to darken with anger. His lieutenant put up a hand.

"... on his baby. Seems the missus went around the bend and tried to kill his son. He's been sleeping at St. Mary's and working in a diner to make up the money he spent on doctors and medicines."

Anger was replaced by shock on the mobster's face. "WHAT??"

"Yeah, that was my reaction too. He and the baby are in the kitchen with Margie right now."

"The baby's here?"

Valentine sat down on the sofa and gave his brother-in-law a disgusted look. "Emilio, Tom's half-dead and little TJ just got out of the hospital. What did you expect me to do? Leave the kid in a cold apartment by his lonesome while you have the shit beaten out of his father for trying to save his life?"

Leone had the good sense to look ashamed. "How much did he use up?"

"Nine hundred bucks. He's made up a hundred fifteen already." He put the bag on the crime lord's desk and pulled out a small notebook from his pocket. "See for yourself. He's kept track of every penny he spent and every dime he's made up. Not a red cent spent on anything but doctors and medicines. I checked."

Emilio looked uncertain and Frank took advantage of that. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "I think we've got some special circumstances here, boss. One, he didn't run off with the dough. Two, he spent it on saving his kid's life. Three, he's trying to make up what he took. And finally, I'll make good on the money for him. Tom's a good egg - you don't find honest burglars like him any more."

The crime boss waved his hand. "Nah, forget about the money. I ain't gonna do anything to him. Dumb bastard suffered enough. I know what it feels like to lose someone..." Leone thought about his younger brother. "Let's see him."

* * *

As the crime boss and his lieutenant approached the kitchen, the two heard something that had been absent in the mansion for a very long time - the sound of a woman's laughter. The men entered the kitchen to find Marguerite holding a beautiful, dark-haired baby. The widow was radiant - Emilio could not believe how lovely she looked. Nor how young.

"Emilio, isn't he gorgeous? Look at his eyes! Have you ever seen such beautiful blue eyes?" She turned the baby in her lap. "TJ, that's Emilio. Can you say 'Emilio'?"

The baby looked up at the crime boss. He raised his eyebrows at the man in front of him and looked back at Marguerite. He turned his head back to Leone and said, 'Meemo!', giving him a grin.

In that moment, everything changed. A black thought crawled into Leone's mind and began to take root.

"Can I hold him?" Emilio asked. Shocked, Kane nodded.

Leone took the baby from his sister-in-law. Frank gave Tom a wink and thumbs up. He held TJ close to him and the baby reached out to run a tiny hand across his stubbled cheek.

"Meemo!" The baby pulled on the crime lord's ear.

"Damn, he's strong! You got a beautiful boy, Kane." Leone kissed the baby who snuggled closer into his embrace; he was confident that the course of action he was going to undertake was the right one for all involved - or ... at least for himself and Marguerite.

"Frank told me about what happened ... I'm still angry about the money, Tommy. Why the hell didn't you ask me for it? What kind of monster do you think I am?"

Kane looked stricken. "I was afraid you'd say 'no', boss. I ... I couldn't risk it. Not if it meant TJ's life."

"Well, you're gonna make the money up. And you ain't washing dishes for it, either. You're gonna be doing a lot more jobs for me."

Leone kissed TJ again as he bounced him in his arms. "That drafty rathole of yours is no good for a baby. You two are moving in here - Margie can take care of him when you're working, can't you, Margie? We got room."

Marguerite was radiant. "Oh, Emilio! I'd love to! Tom - is that all right with you? Please, please say yes!"

The burglar was at a loss for words. He looked at Frank. "He ain't gonna kill me?"

Frank looked as confused as Kane. "Obviously not." Although he didn't show it, Frank was extremely troubled by this turn of events. Emilio was never one for being magnanimous.

Kane's pocket watch chimed. " 'cuse me, boss, but it's time for TJ's medicine..." He held out his arms for his son and fished a bottle of medicine from the coat pocket. He squeezed the dropper and it filled with a dark orange liquid.

TJ took one look at the bottle and looked ready to cry. Kane held him in his arms and rocked him gently.

"You need to be brave for me... you don't want to be sick all over again, do you? C'mon, sport ... take your medicine ... take it for daddy, TJ..."

The baby opened his mouth and swallowed the bitter liquid. He made a face. Tom held him close.

"That's my boy ... that's my best boy..." Kane continued to rock him until he dozed off. "Is there somewhere I can put him down for a bit?" he asked quietly.

"Follow me, Tom - we'll put him in the front guest room..."

Marguerite and the burglar left the kitchen. Emilio looked inordinately pleased with himself. Frank knew the crime lord was up to something but kept his own counsel.

"Frank?"

The other man turned to Leone.

"Find that bitch and have her whacked. And use local talent. I don't want her ever coming back to hurt that baby again."

* * *

Both TJ and Kane benefited from the move; the baby more so than his father. Leone had Kane working on jobs on an almost-continuous basis. TJ was left more and more in the company of Marguerite and Emilio. There were now times that the baby was confused as to whom was truly his father - the man who spent all his time with him, or the other who showed up infrequently but showered him with affection.

Valentine observed the changes in the baby's behavior but said nothing - after years of seeing his sister's torment, he could not bring himself to remind her that the child she doted on was not her own. Marguerite had bloomed again into a beautiful and vivacious woman. Her brother could not bear to see her sink down into the dismal half-life she had endured after the death of Johnnie Leone.

* * *

"Tommy, this job is very, very important. We get this information on Burke, and we're as good as gold - no one will be able to touch us!"

Frank, Tom and Emilio were plotting his next assignment. The police commissioner had been involved in some not-so-legal agreements with Paul Giambi, a former friend and now serious competition to Leone's operations.

"The documents are in a wall safe in the master bedroom on the second floor. Grab the papers and bring 'em back. We'll turn all Giambi's hard work against him!"

The burglar nodded. "OK, boss. Let me work out the details and I should be able to get the job done within two weeks."

"Hey ... it's Margie's birthday next week. You got her a present, didn't you?"

Kane looked surprised. "I completely forgot! Damn!"

"Why don't you and Frank go and pick out something nice for her? Better do it now ... you're gonna be busy!"

"Gotcha boss - thanks for the reminder." Valentine and Kane left the room.

Emilio picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number. The phone rang several times and then a hoarse, raspy voice answered.

"Ferguson."

"Ahh, Captain! Glad I caught you before you left the station house!"

"What the fuck do you want, Leone? Why the hell are you calling me here?" The whispered voice on the other end was tight was worry.

"I'm arranging to have the Commissioner's home broken into and I thought you'd like to know. If we arrange it properly, I'll get rid of my problem, and you'll get rid of yours."

Silence. Emilio chuckled.

"I know you've been itching to become Commissioner yourself, but Burke's got an awful habit of dodging bullets, doesn't he? Particularly when it ain't one of my boys doing the aiming ... I'm sure that dame of yours would love to mix with the society muckety-mucks, too? Hmmm? Pretty good for a former chorus girl, right?"

"When?"

"I don't know yet. I'll call you."

He hung up.

* * *

"Thomas Kane, it is the finding of this court that you are guilty of charges of burglary and the shooting death of Michael Burke during commission of that act. Since these two heinous crimes were done in tandem, the felony murder rule is in effect. You are sentenced to life imprisonment at hard labor."

The gavel cracked down on the bench.

Kane screamed as the guards hauled him away.

"I never killed nobody! I don't even own a gun! I found the dead guy after I rifled the safe! Damn you! Damn all of you! TJ! What's gonna happen to my baby?"

Frank Valentine stepped up. "We'll fight this thing, Tom. Don't worry about TJ. Emilio's lawyers will get you out. I swear it." Tom gave the lieutenant an anguished look as he was hustled out of the courtroom.

* * *

"Who we gonna use for the appeal, Emilio? Huckstein? Repnikov?" Valentine paced the study of the crime lord. "Something's fishy about all of this ... Tommy never packs heat. He'd rather skedaddle out than hurt somebody, let alone whack them."

"We ain't calling no one." Emilio smiled at his underling.

"Huh?"

Leone continued. "We ain't calling any other lawyer. That prick Burke is finally out of the way and Commissioner Ferguson is in our pocket. You'd be proud of me, Frank -- all it took was one little phone call."

Valentine stared at him. "What the hell did you do, Emilio?" His voice was deathly quiet.

The crime boss laughed. "Everyone's happy - well, except Kane. And he don't matter no more. Margie has a new lease on life, I fucked up Giambi's plans, and ... I've got a boy to raise as my own."

"You goddamn son of a bitch!" Valentine glared at him. "You set Tommy up!"

Emilio's face hardened. "You bet I did. He was nothing but a loser. Never would be anything else. And I got plans for TJ - you wanna see Margie the way she was again after Johnnie died? You wanna see TJ in an orphanage?"

The lieutenant turned away.

"I didn't think so. And you keep that piehole of yours shut. Unless you wanna end up like Mrs. Kane. Capisce?"

* * *
Tom Kane was shaking as his son finished the story.

"Emilio did all of that ... just to keep you for himself?"

TJ nodded. "Frank disappeared for several years and then turned up working for Paul Giambi. Emilio never forgave him; neither did I. Not until Lucio showed me the letters that he had written to me. Valentine made Paul - and Lucio - swear to him that I'd get those letters when I was old enough to understand what went on. Some of the other information I got from Randy Franklin."

"Randy! How is he?"

TJ was somber. "He passed away a year ago in Monte Carlo. He loved you till his dying breath."

Kane's eyes began to fill with unshed tears. "He was right. I did a terrible thing to Myrna. But..."

He reached out to hold his son in his arms.

"... I'dve never had you if I didn't..." The former burglar wiped the tears from his eyes.

Phil cleared his throat. "And that sort of brings us to why we're here, Mr. Kane..." He walked over to the other officer and wrapped a muscular arm around him. TJ turned his head and the two SMD officers exchanged a deep kiss.

Tom looked surprised and pleased. "Call me Tom ... I take then you two are an item??" he grinned. Like father like son. And damn good taste in men to boot! he thought.

"We've been together for three years now. Lucio is flying us and some close friends of ours up to Vancouver to get married. We're making it official."

"And I wanted you to be there with me, Dad. Warden Banks doesn't have any problem with you, umm, 'assisting' a group of CHP officers on an investigation."

Phil grinned. "And I guess you can figure out now who got Warden Banks his job here, sir?"

"Lucio?"

Zeeman nodded.

"Well boys, you've got to fill me in on the rest of your adventures on the flight! "

* * *
This storyline has been kicking around in my head for a very, very long time. However, it was one of those things - like Piaget's stages of cognitive development - that was not going to happen until it was good and ready. I could never start the story, let alone finish it.

As I was developing the character of TJ, I instinctively knew that there had to be a lot going on in his life before faking the argument with Don Leone and eventually killing the power-crazed don. At the same time, I also knew that Emilio Leone was an unmitigated bastard and always had been. Framing a man for murder to steal his child was something I could imagine this blackguard doing without a second thought.

The scene with TJ and the windows is based on an actual incident. The true story involved two women (a mother-in-law and her daughter) taking a baby out in a carriage in the dead of winter with only a thin cotton onesie. The carriage-pusher happened to be my great-grandmother. The baby was my mom. No infidelities involved - Rosalba was just one nasty piece of work.

The story began to coalesce as I was writing the plot outline for my baseball AE story. I put that shoot on hold to finish this work. I really felt that it was something that had to be done NOW.

The Tom Kane character is using the Greyland 'Zutro' mask. I knew when I got him that he was going to be a burglar, but not in what context. Then, I knew he would be TJ's father, but couldn't develop the backstory. Writer's block, I guess. This mask fits quite well, but since it's got a built-in squint, it takes a moment or two to settle onto your face and have your eyelashes adjust to the openings.

For TJ, I ordered a different name tag from Quartermaster and used the same CHP outfit as for Joshua Bateman. No duty belt this time, though - no sense in tempting fate, right? After all, if TJ and Phil were going into a prison, they would have to surrender their arms. Once again, I used the Greyland 'Artist' mask for the burglar turned cop and Dehner boots to complete the outfit.

Research and Development

I have all the pieces together for the baseball story, and now that things have quieted down a bit, I can start writing. And taking photos. My good buddy Paul put a bug in my ear, as well as Will from the greylands yahoo group - "Did you ever think of having TWO of you in the shot?"

Well, yes I did, but I couldn't figure out the process. Thanks to some sleuthing on the internet, I've customized a procedure that I think is going to work very well for the story. Here's a sample pic I did today:

It's not perfect, but it's pretty damn close. And good enough for the upcoming story!