Lucio

Lucio had a normal childhood. That is, if you consider being the only son of the largest syndicate boss in the city normal. From an early age, Lucio displayed a level of brilliance and strategic thinking which pleased his father immensely. Paul Giambi had big plans for his son. Ivy League schools. A new structure. A new and unstoppable power in the City. Lucio as the head of the syndicate.

He killed his first man at fifteen.

He had his first male lover at sixteen. Of course, that milestone wasn't something he was going to tell his father. He had seen how Paul handled "problems" and didn't want to become one himself. He was skillful at reading men's hearts and while he could be ruthless when needed, he was often moved more to pity than to scorn. Franco, his father's top lieutenant and Lucio's mentor, protector and bodyguard, called this talent "navigating between the pillars of Might and Mercy" and had commented that he had never seen anyone so adept - including Lucio's father. Enemies became loyal soldiers; loyal soldiers would sacrifice anything for him without a second thought.

During his last year at graduate school, Lucio invited his friend (and lover) Stephen home during the midwinter break. Both Lucio and Stephen were strong, muscular and devilishly handsome. However, where Lucio was dark - wavy brown hair, brown eyes and always a hint of shadow on his square jaw - Stephen was light - fine, white-blonde hair with pale green eyes the color of new leaves. It was during this break that his father surprised him and his partner. Shock, anger and sadness chased across his father's face as he caught the two together - as he saw Stephen's strong legs over his son's shoulders and his son thrusting into the pale young man moaning beneath him. Paul quickly turned around and slammed the bedroom door shut.

"Stephen, get dressed and leave. I have to talk to my dad right away. Frank will get you to the airport. I'll see you after the break."

"You never told him?"

Lucio shook his head. "I was afraid he would kill me. I don't want him to kill you."

Stephen felt the icy truth in that statement crawl down his spine. He knew what Lucio's father did for a living.

"But Lucio..."

"Not now. Hurry." He put his finger on his lover's lips and then gave him a quick kiss. Stephen felt the power of command in those three words. Lucio grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled a t-shirt over his head. He ran his fingers through his tousled brown hair for at least some semblance of order. He stepped out of the room and quickly walked to his father's study. He opened the door. His bare feet made no sound on the polished wooden floor.

"Papa?"

His father had been pacing. He looked up as his son entered the room. He grabbed him by the shoulders.

"How long?"

"Papa, I can explain ..."

"HOW LONG, LUCIO?" His father glared at him. He tightened his grip.

"Four years." he whispered. "Four years, Papa." So this was how it ends. Even if his father beat him to death, he wouldn't beg for mercy. He'd hurt him enough. Shamed him. Maybe he'd be lucky and he would kill him quickly.

He held his son vise-like and shook him. "Why the FUCK did you torture yourself, sneaking around, for four years? Huh? Why were you afraid to tell me? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Lucio looked up, shocked. His father's eye's were moist. He was terribly upset, not angry. Not angry at all.

A quiet knock and Frank entered the room. Frank took in the scene. Paul more distraught than he had ever seen him; Lucio frightened to death but trying desperately to be brave . "Everything OK, boss?"

Lucio's father released him and took a deep calming breath. "Oh yeah, Frank, everything is just great. Just hunky fucking-dory. My son has been reaming men up the ass for four years and he forgot to tell me!"


Frank was grinning. Lucio was completely bewildered. The lieutenant stepped between father and son and gave the syndicate boss a deep kiss. Lucio's father returned it with equal ardor. Paul had begun to compose himself. Frank turned to the future crime lord.

"Next time, kiddo, keep the moaning down. Be a little more discreet. Your dad wouldn't be where he is today if we weren't careful. And face it, you really are your father's son."

I had originally been thinking of the Meser mask as more of a con artiste - a very successful confidence man named "Alain". Great fit again - this particular line seems to be cut the tightest so far. (A little *too* tight as the seam down the back of the neck split. Nothing that a little Krazy-Glue and duct tape couldn't fix. ) However, when I was developing the Dash character, the crime boss seemed to take on a life of his own too. I tried the Meser mask on again and the character of Lucio just fell into place. Smart, necessarily ruthless, but slightly vulnerable. Almost, but not quite, a Sophoclean tragic flaw. (Whoops! Is my classical education showing??)

Perhaps it's the way that Greyland makes the masks, but most of the ones I own seem to promote the darker side of human nature - that Vlad Tepes/Elizabeth Bathory type of vibe. The only male masks I've seen that seem to be a bit on the happy-go-lucky side are the "Bob" series - which would make for a great televangelist!!

Ryan Redux

Normally, Saturday mornings are my "AE Time", but I guess Halloween in the middle of the week wore me out more than I thought. Six parties over the course of six days was a bit of a stretch. I was all set to take shots of Lucio, the crime boss -- however, after setting up all the photo equipment, I just didn't feel like being him. I wasn't in the right frame of mind to handle a criminal mastermind.

I had purchased a dreadlock wig to use with the B.Will mask and possibly the Bororo and/or Jim masks. I wanted to experiment to see how well (or how badly) this would work out.

I had read an interesting story on the Haircut Stories Site called "Mount Baldy Baldies". There's always a lot of construction going on in my area, and you do tend to see a majority of the workers with either shaved heads or buzz cuts (as well as a lot of well-developed, sweaty muscles) - but I wanted to give Ryan a try with hair - possibly before succumbing to peer pressure and getting shaved.

I got the wig from International Wig - great place: fast service and faster shipping. I don't want to sound condescending, but you really can't go wrong with an inexpensive afro or dreadlock wig - the $40 one looks just as good as the $100 one. The photo shoot turned out extraordinarily well - I like Ryan just as well with hair as without and I can definitely use the wig with my other AE's on tap ... I have plans for an enforcer (Bororo) and a ruthless businessman (Jim).

Dash

Dashiell ("Just call me Dash.") was a little hellion growing up. The only scion of a wealthy manufacturing family, he was always attracted to the darker side of the human condition. This perverse fascination, combined with a superior intelligence and nearly unlimited financial resources was a truly hellish combination in a "fallen angel"-sort of way. Crimes - theft, extortion, battery and even burglary - were easily covered up. What his charm and roguish good looks couldn't accomplish, payoffs could. His appetite for violence and crime was only rivaled by his appetite for men. It was the thrill and sheer delight in wrongdoing that made each escapade worthwhile.

Dash caught the attention of one of the local crime bosses when he became involved in a bar fight and permanently crippled Lucio Giambi's lieutenant. As the youngest crime lord in the city, Lucio needed to prove his mettle to the other syndicate bosses. Dash had to pay for this transgression and he would see to it. Personally.

All of that changed, however, when the two met face-to-face.

Imagine his surprise when Lucio entered his study and found a brutally handsome young man relaxing on his couch, a glass of brandy in one hand and a book in the other. A lit cigarette was in the large marble ashtray, its smoke lazily spiraling up in the cool air.

Dash put the book down and stood up. "I hear you've been looking for me. I thought we should have a talk."

Tall and well-built, Dash was dressed in a soft black leather sleeveless shirt which only served to frame his muscular shoulders and arms. Snug leather jeans - which clung to his long, strong legs and narrow waist - produced a living portrait just this side of obscene. His black motorcycle jacket was laid on the sofa. A black leather collar circled his neck and matching leather bands circled powerful wrists. His shaved head gleamed in the lamplight. A 100-watt smile creased Dash's face and traveled all the way up to his startlingly azure eyes.

"I was trying to find the best way to introduce myself - and I believed this was probably the fastest way to get results. I want to work for you, Lucio. After all, with the way your businesses COULD be expanding ..."

He slowly put the brandy snifter down on the end table.

"You really need someone with more expertise and connections than that cretin Anthony. Someone like me."

Lucio was taken aback. Not only by his demeanor, but by his sheer audacity. And by his looks. The leather stud's voice was a low, sexy tenor and his blue, blue eyes displayed equal parts of mischief, cunning, promise and danger. Dash slowly walked - no, swaggered - over to him. Each step closer brought a chiaroscuro of warm yellow light playing off gleaming black leather. Each step closer made his breathing quicken and heart race. What the hell was going on? How did he know?

Dash stood in front of him. The crime boss was trembling. A hand came up and stroked through Lucio's wavy brown hair. Dash smelled of leather and chocolate. Lucio inhaled deeply. Oh God. Angel for Men. His favorite cologne. Giambi took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Dash pulled him closer and gently kissed him. He proceeded to run his lips across across Lucio's square jaw and down his neck, nibbling as he went along. The crime boss moaned with pleasure. Dash stopped at his open collar. "Command me, lord." he whispered. Lucio opened his eyes.

Blue eyes met brown. There was a hint of uncertainty in Dash's azure gaze. The spark between them burst into a raging inferno of desire and lust. The crime lord snaked his arm around his new lieutenant and partner and gave him a hard, deep kiss. He reached up and stroked the leather stud's face.

"When can you start?"

Whew! The Arnold mask really seemed to have a complete mind of it's own. And like my Derls, it's a near perfect fit. I knew when I first put it on a while ago that he was going to be a criminal - at that time I thought maybe hired muscle or an enforcer - but the whole sexy, wealthy evil character "clicked" from watching "Batman Begins". I was thinking, "What if Bruce Wayne was truly subverted by the League of Shadows? What would he be like?" He'd be Dash. Since this mask is part of the Greyland Masks (not Faces collection) the neck is a bit shorter all the way around. Hence the slightly S&M-ish use of the collar. For an incredible video of someone else with the same concept, check out "Gas Mask and Getting Ready to Go Out" on Youtube. Amazing!!

I love a man in uniform -- Request #1

Well, I got quite a number of requests clamoring to see more of Shayn in uniform (out of uniform is a different request altogether!!), so I did another photo shoot of my insatiable Army Ranger fooling around in some "formal" wear.

Rather than the backstory on the character - which you already have - I decided to give you a little backstory on the uniform.

This is called a "Mess Dress" uniform and is used for formal occasions. The uniform itself is vintage late 1940's - early 1950's and was originally a lieutenant's uniform - it is now a commander's uniform. The original two braids (one 1/2" and one 1/4" denoting a lieutenant second class) were replaced by three 1/2" braids. It is made of a very dense, very soft worsted wool that resists wrinkles and wears like iron.

In the United States Navy, a commander is above the rank of lieutenant commander, below the rank of captain, and is equivalent in rank to a lieutenant colonel in the United States Army, United States Marine Corps and the United States Air Force. A commander may command a frigate, destroyer, submarine, aviation squadron or shore installation, or may serve on a staff. A commander who commands a vessel may also be referred to as "Captain" as a courtesy title, or informally referred to as "skipper."

The braiding and line stars on the sleeves were very discolored, so I replaced them. The bullion braiding hasn't changed a whit in sixty years, but the line stars have changed a great deal.

The vintage ones were actually heavy gold thread with miniature chains holding them in place on a black wool background. The "modern" ones are cheaply machine-embroidered stars on a black fabric background. Ebay proved to be an excellent source and I was able to find a good pair of line stars (on a uniform, of course!) for a good price. I had my tailor swap the stars and resold the uniform!

The shirts are "official" USN tuxedo shirts, as are the studs and the cufflinks in the "black tie" pictures. The gold cummerbund is also the "official" navy regulation color - not yellow, not gold, but this particular color.

USN regulations state that for "white tie" events, a white pique tie and vest are required, and the vest must have three gold USN official buttons. Well, I found the vest, but had to order buttons separately and remove the mother of pearl ones and sew on the gold ones.

I always seem to have the most fun with the "Derl" molds of masks, and this particular photo shoot was indeed a pleasure - not only because of what I was doing, but because I know that I'm making several folks quite aroused ...