The concept of "Getting It"

I get some very interesting emails from my masking activities - I'm active on several sites - GuyzinGear, Gearfetish, Rubberzone and LPTribes to name a few. Even Yahoo.

I'd also like to take a moment to THANK the people that read the stories, look at the pics and send me emails or leave comments. I appreciate the time you give me.

Some of the most intriguing ones come from people who don't necessarily mask themselves, but appreciate the creation of a true persona.

One person wrote:

Love the Aidan set, but it is my favourite greyland . This is the best use of this mask I have seen.

As with all your albums it your choice of costumes that elevates your work to a higher level. Anyone with enough money can buy an expensive mask, but the real trick is create a convincing illusion with $40 mask.

Time and again you do it.

A good friend of mine and regular reader commented:

Aidan10.jpg looks like the beginning pose from one of those classic "getting ready for action" film montages. You've clearly gotten pumped to movie-star proportions. Your photography has also come leaps and bounds. I don't know how you are self shooting these complex vignettes, but keep at it, they're awesome. I especially liked the blurred cigarette in the mirror...very mysterious/noir.

Also: I will never arm wrestle you now that I've seen this.

("Aidan" is a completed photoshoot, but a story under development. I always post my shoots to Yahoo. I would not only be remiss but cruel NOT to provide a sample ...

Another guy had a similar reaction to other AE's on a different site:

HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCKING CHRIST! FUCKING HOT!!!!!!!!!

Bro... cannot even tell you what the fuck your profile did to me... so god-damned hot I can't fucking stand it. AWESOME! AWESOME! AWESOME!

Fucking masks, uniforms, gear, tats.... the fucking DETAIL ROCKS!

Just friggin' EPIC.

You "get" masks like no one else I've seen on here... just so mind-blowing it hurts.

So I'm obviously doing something right ...

I do have an "ethic" - if you will - when I do a shoot and a story.

• The character(s) needs to be believable
• The character(s) has to support the story, not the other way around
• The story has to have a story. There has to be a plot. Of course, sex plays a part, but not the whole part. Sometimes the intimation of the act works better than going into the details of the act itself
• You have to exercise the mind God gave you. Use your imagination. That's the most potent sexual tool you have.

I also find that as I continue to write, the "secondary world" of my AE's has not only developed, but the different threads are intertwining. I have stories about cops, mobsters, vampires, assassins, magic and technology - the interconnections just start happening as I write.

I'm currently working on a story called "Strike Force" - this introduces several new characters, as well as some old ones, and linking a couple of the story threads together. I could go into more detail, but I won't .... the story is about 85% done now, and I should have it out by the end of the month.

Operating Room 6

The ambulance pulled up to the emergency room entrance of St. John's Medical Center. The first person out of the vehicle was Dr. Francisco Cruz, helping to gently extricate the gurney holding Ted Estes to the ground and through the doors. Chance Rinaldi - still in his latex outfit - followed closely behind.

Doctor Bryan Sanger looked at the procession with surprise on his rugged features. Dark cinnamon hair framed his handsome face and the hospital scrubs and white coat did little to hide the well-defined body beneath them.

"Ah, Bryan - glad you're on duty. We have two patients that are going to need surgery stat and two more with some trauma wounds."

He turned to the orderly that had been speaking with the handsome doctor.

"Jeffery, officer Estes here has a concussion and broken ribs. Possibly a collapsed lung and some internal bleeding. I want a full torso PET scan and an X-ray series."

"Can I go with Ted?" Chance Rinaldi asked.

"Sure, Chance. Just stay out of the way. And let Jeffery get you something ... appropriate ... to change into."

Chance looked at himself and realized he was in his leggings, hoodie, boots and gloves. The stench of cordite, explosives and violence still hung about the assassin. He grinned at the chief of surgery. "I could probably use a shower, too. Right?"

"Ummm ... yeah. You look like some crazed terrorist on the prowl..."

The orderly cleared his throat to interrupt the conversation. "Let's get down to Radiology?"

"Sure ... sorry about that." The two men left with Estes. Frankie turned to Sanger.

"Bryan, I need you to get Operating Room 6 prepped."

Sanger paled.

* * *

Lucio Giambi had been extremely generous to St. John's. A considerable amount of money was given annually to the institution, and the mobster had funded the construction of an entire wing of the hospital complex. One section in this wing was dedicated to trauma patients, and one particular area housed Operating Room 6.

Bryan placed his palm against a dark glass plate on the wall. A light scanned down his hand and matched the patterns found within its security protocols. A hiss, and pop followed, and the heavy metal door to the operating room - which resembled more like something found in a high-security bank vault - slowly opened.

Sanger flipped on the lights and began to prep the room for the two patients it was about to receive. The OR contained state-of-the-art medical machinery, as well as some of the most advanced computer systems he had ever seen. Poised above each table was a mechanism that he could only think of as a huge spider. One was made of bright steel and titanium alloys. The other - he shuddered - was composed of dark metallic and ceramic units that seemed to absorb the light in the room with a sinister purposefulness.

* * *

"Hmmmm ... I was right. Take a look at this, Bryan"

The two men were examining the diagnostic pictures from Radiology. Cruz pointed to an x-ray image on the large monitor. "That rib punctured the lung and it's partially deflated. No other internal bleeding, thank God. I still want TALOS to do a double-check for me. What do you think?"

Frankie had changed into a pair of operating scrubs. He wore a white compression shirt beneath them that highlighted his muscular chest and arms. Sanger moved closer to him and wrapped an arm around the tight waist.

"Sounds good to me - I'd also like to see a second opinion on the right upper and lower jaw. I don't know, but it looks a little out of alignment to me and some of those teeth look a little shaky."

Cruz gave his lover a quick kiss. "Let's get moving. I want Ted in recovery as soon as possible. We still have the other patient to ... treat."

Bryan frowned. Frankie rubbed the other man's arms gently, making delicate patterns as he moved.

"I know how you feel about that part of our job, love. But someone's got to do it. God knows the fucking government isn't looking out for the rest of us anymore."

At that point, the heavy door to OR6 opened again to admit Jeffery wheeling an unconscious Ted Estes into the operating theater. The police officer was naked beneath surgical sheets and an intravenous bag was hanging from the holder attached to the gurney. The two doctors and orderly transferred the prone policeman onto the operating table beneath the silvery spider. Frankie removed the sheet.

"TALOS, engage diagnostic and monitoring mode."

"Good morning, Dr. Cruz. Voice print confirmed. Deploying diagnostic web."

The bright spider stretched and lowered itself closer to the patient. A gossamer network of silvery threads settled gently onto the police officer and settled snugly around him. A 3D representation of Estes appeared on another screen.

"Patient has partially collapsed right lung and 4 broken ribs on the right thorax. Liver is bruised. Right upper jaw has hairline fracture. Upper molars 1 and 2 and bicuspid 4 have been loosened. Lower jaw is out of alignment by 3.57 milimeters. Lower molar 18 has been loosened. Various contusions and hematomas over 85 percent of body surface."

The doctors looked at each other and smiled. Sanger cleared his throat.

"TALOS, initiate surgery. Repair mode."

"Voice print confirmed. Good afternoon, Dr. Sanger. Corrective surgical procedures beginning."

Delicate arms descended from the main body of the silvery spider and gently insinuated themselves into the man below them. Probes - less than a molecule thick - moved quickly through the interstices between cells and began to repair the brutal damage done to Ted Estes at a nanotechnological scale.

"Wow, look at him go! It seems like TALOS is getting better and better at this!"

"It's his heuristic learning system - every procedure he does, the better he gets."

Cruz and Sanger watched in amazement as the ribs straightened out and Este's breathing relaxed and deepened. Bruises faded and disappeared. Soon, the probes disengaged and the web lifted from the unconscious figure. Ted lay perfect and whole. And as striking as ever.

The entire process took less than twenty minutes.

* * *

Ted woke to again find the same handsome Latino bending over him. He turned his head to see Chance sitting in a chair next to his bed, head down, asleep.

He grinned and spoke quietly.

"We have to stop meeting like this, doc. My boyfriend is going to start getting jealous."

Cruz returned the smile. He put his stethoscope to the other man's rock-hard abs. "How do you feel, Ted?" He stroked a muscular shoulder and trailed fingers lightly down the arm. Estes shivered under the gentle onslaught.

The policeman slid around on the bed, flexed his muscles and stretched.

"Good. Really good. Amazingly good. Considering the beating I took, how long have I been out?"

"About an hour."

"WHAT??!!" His outburst woke Rinaldi who leaned over the railing to give the policeman a deep kiss.

"It's true, love. Frankie wheeled you in here about an hour ago all healed up and handsome as ever. Well, except your hair. We still need to wait for that to grow back in again."

Chance reached over and squeezed Ted's bulge through the sheets. He felt the naked man beneath his grip respond and begin to grow hard. He kissed him again. Estes reached up to grasp the assassin's head as he crushed his lips against the other's inviting mouth. They devoured each other hungrily.

"Oh, God, oh God ... I've missed you so much ...."

Cruz cleared his throat. "After a couple of hours, you can take Ted home. I'll make sure that the two of you aren't disturbed." He closed the door quietly behind him.

* * *
Frankie returned to the operating theater to find the Chechen terrorist strapped down to the table beneath the darkly gleaming operating machinery. Lucio Giambi - in scrubs and a white lab coat - was speaking quietly to Sanger as Solovyov cursed, screamed and tried to break loose from the restraints. The two looked towards the door as he entered.

The mobster smiled. "You look surprised to see me, Frankie."

"Well, yes and no. I knew you were coming, I just didn't expect you in scrubs."

"As Falstaff said, 'Discretion is the better part of valor.' I felt it would be better to blend in for this operation."

"Lucio told me what this monster was planning. I can't understand these people, Frankie. What did we ever do to them?"

"We're breathing, Bryan. That's a crime enough in their eyes."

"And in cases like this, the important thing is to get as much information we can from them, act on it, and then have them pay dearly for their actions." Lucio added. His handsome face was set in grim lines.

"Let's start."

"Are you okay, love?" Cruz searched his partner's face.

The other doctor nodded, resolute. "I'm fine." He stroked a hand lightly around the latino's strong jaw. "Lucio was a big help."

Cruz smiled. "He usually is."

At that point the three men approached the prostrate Russian. He glared at them.

"I'll fucking kill all of you! Let me up!"

"Oh, I don't think so, Pabiyan ..." Lucio purred. "TALOS, initiate interrogation and sequestration modes."

"Additional authorization required."

Sanger spoke up. "This is Doctor Bryan Sanger. Authorization approved. Code is Motion-One-Dollar-Pencil."

"Voiceprint and authorization confirmed."

It was Frankie's turn. "This is Doctor Francisco Cruz. Authorization approved. Code is Manana-Seven-Orchid-Volvo."

"Voiceprint and authorization confirmed. Good afternoon Mr. Giambi. Initiating interrogation and sequestration modes."

The ebon unit behaved completely unlike it's silvery sibling. A darkly gleaming metallic net dropped quickly from its underbelly and tightened painfully against the man beneath it. Inky black metallic probes quickly descended and penetrated into soft flesh. Solovyov screamed in agony. Nanoprobes quickly insinuated themselves into muscle, organs and nerves. Pabiyan suddenly became limp. Sanger removed the restraints.

"Pabiyan, you are now a complete quadriplegic. And you're going to stay that way until you answer all of my questions. You invaded my territory, you've messed with my businesses and you nearly killed a police officer ... a man who means a great deal to me. Now, do you want to do this the easy way or hard way?"

"Fuck you!"

A bolt of agony coursed through the gangster's body, completely unlike anything he had ever experienced. Had he been in control of himself, he would have bucked, arched and doubled over. As it was, however, he could only scream. And scream. And scream. His chest heaved as he gasped -- gulping air back into tortured lungs - as the pain level slowly dropped, but did not vanish. A throbbing ache spread throughout his body and explosions of pain ripped through arms, chest, legs and head in random intervals.

"That was only a tickle compared to what's in store for you. Do you want to reconsider?"

He cursed in Russian and tried to spit into Giambi's face. He failed.

"Okay. We do this the hard way. TALOS, stop heart and lungs."

Solovyov could not breathe. He felt a leaden weight in his chest as his heart slowed and then stopped beating. He tried to scream again, but could not. His vision began to dim around the edges and he spiraled into blackness.

* * *

Pabiyan woke struggling to breathe in the hot, flinty air as the sandstorm whipped about him. He was manacled to a long chain with small hunched figures in front and behind him. He was - he discovered - as diminutive and deformed as they. The prisoners were dressed in dun-colored robes with similarly colored rags wrapped tightly around their faces. He felt a crushing weight bearing down on him with every labored step he took.

"Where am ..."

CRACK! A whip descended onto his back and the thin fabric did little to lessen it's power. And agony. He sagged under the incredible pain and turned to see a huge being raising the flail again to strike. Solovyov looked at the grey-black taloned hand holding the giant bullwhip, the evil, leering face and the great span of leathery black wings spread out from the demon's shoulders.

"Keep moving! Keep moving!"

* * *
Lucio's face swam back into focus. " ... Well, you were clinically dead for three minutes. Get to see your seventy-two virgins?" The mobster asked innocently. Solovyov looked pale and shaken.

"We've heard from other people in your position - pardon the pun - that it's not a pleasant experience wherever you found yourself."

"Wha ... wha ... what was that place?" The Chechen croaked.

Sanger spoke up. "It's wherever you go when you die. Religion aside, I've been told that in scientific terms that Heaven and Hell make sense in terms of the laws of conservation of energy."

"Now, do you want to talk, or do you want to go back there?"

Lucio began a forceful interrogation of the prisoner. When he resisted, the darkly gleaming device administered additional surges of agony. The terrorist revisited his personal Hell several more times before Lucio was finished.

"Thank you, Pabiyan. With the information you've given me, we should be able to set your organization and plans back a couple of decades at least."

He turned to Cruz. "He's all yours, Frankie. I'm done."

Cruz looked at the Chechen spreadeagled on the table. A look of hatred mingled with grim satisfaction creased his darkly handsome face.

"TALOS, initiate harvesting procedures."

Additional probes descended - some ending in rotary saws, scalpels, cannulas and forceps. Within the span of an hour, every part of the terrorist that could be reused to save or enhance lives - corneas, blood, heart, lungs, other organs as well as research material - was removed and packaged for rapid distribution. All the material had been treated with an anti-rejection serum which guaranteed a perfect match for the recipient. The remainder - almost nothing - was bundled up to be disposed.

Sanger looked fatigued but not unhappy. "I'm glad that's over with."

Lucio gathered the cinnamon-haired doctor into his arms and held him closely. "Thanks for all your help, Bryan. You should be proud of yourself."

"I'm getting there, Lucio. It's not as easy for me as for you and Frankie, but I'm getting there."

Lucio headed towards the door. "I've got to start acting on this information, guys." Giambi grinned. "I just love fucking up terrorists. Giaan is going to have a field day with the financial information! Why don't you two come over tonight for dinner? You've done a lot today. Seven sounds good?"

Cruz returned the mobster's grin. "We'll be there."

He waved as he left the room. "I'll see if Ted and Chance want to come. Plus Xander and David. Maybe Josh and Perry, too."

* * *

Sanger was waiting for Cruz when he exited the locker room. The latino had changed into a pair of snug, faded blue jeans and a green polo. He still wore the white compression shirt which highlighted his dark complexion and his incredibly muscled physique.

He gathered his lover into his arms and slid his hands down past Bryan's waistband. He began to nibble around his square jaw. Sanger moaned and snuggled closer into his lover's embrace.

"There's plenty more of that to come, cielito."

Sanger pulled the latino closer to him. He delicately licked the arch of an ear. Cruz shivered as their crotches ground together.

"I think we're going to be late for Lucio's dinner..."

Frankie chuckled. "I don't think he's going to mind, love. Not in the least...."

* * *

Well, you can probably guess who I DIDN'T vote for in the last election!

From the story arc starting with Ted and Chance, I knew Frankie was going to be a doctor, and given the fact that he works with Lucio, Francisco Cruz is far more willing to go the extra distance when it comes to things that are considered "politically incorrect." One of the ideas I had in writing this story was to have a connection between TALOS and ODIN, the supercomputer running the Castle. But after noodling over that thought, I decided that would not have added anything to the story except some unnecessary plot threads.

Pabiyan's personal hell was initially going to be a result of ODIN's tinkering directly with the Chechen's brain, but again, I felt the story was better off without it. For those of you who think this scenario sounds somewhat familiar, check out the movie, "Phantasm."

Frankie is an SPFX "Player" mask with a custom paint job. I had asked Rusty to do one for me with a more olive-skinned coloring and sent him some photo samples for comparison. I also used a urethane muscle suit to give my physician a more heroic silhouette and I think it worked out quite well.

Being Frankie - both in casual clothing and in his scrubs - felt great. For some reason, I don't get as strong a "vibe" from the SPFX masks as I do from my Greylands. I attribute it to the fact that they are so much more flexible and conforming to the face that there's more of "me" in the AE than with the slightly more rigid foam latex masks. Nevertheless, Dr. Cruz is a great character and he will definitely be making additional appearances!

The Lure of Dainese ...

One-piece leather motorcycle suits really, really turn me on.

Ever since I wrote the "Rubber Biker" story, I've been eyeing Dainese suits - particularly T-Ages - and the itch has only grown stronger as time goes on.

Here's my "ideal" Rubber Biker:

Inner Layer:

A Spexter full coverage suit. This only has mouth and nostril openings. A rubber sheath and codpiece complement the outfit. (Pic here is courtesy of my buddy Matt. I've already ordered one of these and I'm anxiously awaiting delivery!) According to him, the feeling of this suit is incredible, not to mention the ability to see yourself in head-to-toe rubber with mirrored eyes staring back at you. I also plan to add a locking rubber collar to the mix. UPDATE: Got the suit and it's all that and a bag of chips!





Outer layer:

The Dainese W-Frame or Mission suit. I love the cut of these suits, plus I've heard that the leather on them is some of the best in the world. Added to that is the aerodynamic "hump" on the back which also adds a degree of eroticism to the mix. Of course, the suit would have to be in the black, gray and anthracite combination! UPDATE: This suit rocks! If you need to save up for a racing suit, get a Dainese - the quality and fit is unsurpassed!




Boots:

Now, I'm taking a few liberties and going with a white and red boot here. Specifically, the Sidi Vertigo Corsa boot. I have enough black motorcycle boots (racing and MX) if I really want to go the all black route. I think that a little bit of contrast here is going to go a long way! UPDATE: These are some of the most comfortable boots I've ever worn!



Gloves:

Dainese - of course! The Full Metal Racer gloves look amazing, and feel amazing too! Conceived expressly for racing, the Full Metal Racer glove was developed from precise indications of Dainese MotoGP racers like Valentino Rossi and Daniel Pedrosa, and is the exact replica of the glove both champs wore at the end of the 2005 season.

Protection and comfort are key. Carbon and titanium - the highest-quality materials - are used in the composite protective pads. UPDATE: If this is any example of Dainese quality and workmanship, I'm going to be a very, very happy biker!


The Story:

Not 100% sure yet, but I'm leaning towards another one of my secondary characters getting fleshed out. Perry Yamato - Lieutenant Joshua Bateman's partner and lover - seems to be the leading candidate here. As you know, Josh already enjoys double layering latex and motocycles leathers - this should be something that the two can (and do) share!

Threading the Needle

"Bino? Hello? Anyone here?" A small bell tinkled when Ted Estes entered Renaldi's Fine Clothing. He always enjoyed coming to pick up his CHP uniforms from the old tailor. The shop was cool and well-lit - a welcome respite from the hot and humid California weather outside. The patrolman was wearing a pair of snug, worn jeans, and a half-open striped shirt that accentuated his smooth tanned skin and slabbed pecs. The late afternoon sun glinted through the big windows and cast the officer in a halo of golden fire.

"Coming! Coming!" Albino Renaldi bustled out of the back room and peered through his spectacles at the tall, handsome police officer. He smiled, then gave the young patrolman a mock-serious frown. "Teddy! You've been working out more! I think we're going to need to take in your breeches and take out your shirts ... again!!" Renaldi was a short, chubby man with white hair and plump cheeks. He had a small white moustache and a no-so-faint Italian accent.

Estes chuckled. "You always amaze me, Bino -- yep. I figured I'd get the new sets tailored today and and bring in the old stuff for alterations." He paused. "Got a hot date tonight?" He winked at the older man.

Bino was in a dark grey suit and tie, instead of his usual shirtsleeves. "No, I'm off to visit my sister in Genoa. She hasn't been feeling well. I have a cab picking me up in a moment."

"You closing up the shop for a few weeks?"

The tailor chuckled. "Of course not! I got too much business between you SMD officers and Mr. Giambi's men. My grandson is going to be filling in for me. Chance! Come out and meet Teddy!"

"I'll be right out, grandpa!" The two heard the sewing machine stop after a moment and a much younger man stepped out of the back room to put his arm around the older Renaldi. He towered over the other tailor and gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

Chance Renaldi was a powerfully built young man, with a highly developed physique barely hidden by his snug t-shirt and tight black jeans. The sleeves had been turned up a bit to show the muscles in his arms which bunched and moved under smooth, golden skin. A tape measure was draped around his neck. Deep moss-green eyes held a glint of mischief and a bright white smile made his entire face glow. His raven black hair was cut in a mohawk; the strip was about three inches wide and the hair looked as soft as fur. He put out his hand to Estes; the handshake was strong and firm. Ted's mouth had gone dry.

"Hey, nice to meet you! Nonno's told me all about you!"
Ted was amazed at the tailor's grandson. He never knew Bino had any relatives; let alone one as damnably handsome as the one in front of him. At that moment, a cab pulled up to the store and honked its horn.

"There's my cab. You take good care of Teddy and the other officers, okay?"

"Yes, grandpa. Don't worry. Everything will be fine ... you've got your tickets and boarding pass? Passport? Wallet?"

The older Renaldi felt in his pockets and nodded.

"Okay, let's get your luggage in the taxi." The young man put the baggage in the trunk and gave his grandfather a strong hug and a kiss. He helped him into the cab and shut the door. The taxi drove away. Estes could not help notice the firm ass and the brutal thighs of the young tailor as he helped Bino into the vehicle.

Chance came back into the store and put a "Closed" sign on the door. He clapped the officer on the back. "You have two uniforms almost ready to go. Nonno said you'd need some final adjustments. C'mon - let's go in the back."

The two men entered the other room of the shop. Chance grabbed two shirts and two breeches from a rack and brought them over.

"Ready? Let's get these on you and I can do the alterations."

Ted began to remove his clothing. He saw Chance's eyes widen as he slowly stripped off his shirt and began to slither out of his jeans. He smiled inwardly as he saw the other man's tool begin to grow and snake down the leg of his pants. It was huge. He stood before the tailor in nothing but an overstuffed jock and a pair of gym socks. He gave the other man a wicked grin.

"You like what you see?"

Chance licked his lips and returned the smile. "Mmmm-hmmm. Grandpa said you guys are built like Greek gods. But let's get your uniforms taken care of first, all right?"

He held out a shirt to Ted. The officer slipped his arms into the short sleeves and turned around. Chance took the opportunity to run his hands up and down muscular torso as he buttoned the shirt up.

"How tapered do you want it?"

"Really snug. I like it to look like a second skin. Division standard."

Chance took a box of pins off a table and began to make the alterations. When he finished, Ted admired himself in the three-way mirror. He smiled back at the young tailor.

"How does that feel, Ted? Too tight?"

"Nope, it feels great!" He flexed his arms and the fabric hugged the powerful biceps and triceps even tighter.

"I'd roll up the sleeves once to stop that bottom seam from popping ... let's put on a pair of breeches with that shirt ... I want to see how everything looks together."

Chance took a pair of breeches off the hanger and helped steady the officer as he slipped into them.

"How's the waistband?"

"A little loose." Chance gathered the material and pinned it.

"Better?"

"Perfect, buddy. Absolutely perfect."

Chance knelt down in front of the patrolman and began to take in the seams on the legs. He mumbled through a mouthful of pins. "Snug as possible, too?"

"Uh-huh. You got it." Ted took the opportunity to gently run his hand through the other man's hair. It felt like silk. Chance shivered. He continued to softly stroke the head and neck of the man in front of him as he pinned the breeches to his powerful legs.

"How's that feel, Ted?" Chance's voice was husky and shaky at the same time.

Estes did some squats. "These feel great! Better than my old ones!" He looked at himself closely in the mirror. "Hey ... the shirt and breeches look a little different..."

"It's my own design. The seams makes the shoulders broader and waist narrower and it also makes your bulge look bigger ... not that you need any help in that department ..." Renaldi chuckled.

"Let's finish up the other set, Ted." Chance was still kneeling in front of the officer. He gently unzipped the pants and helped the other man out of the breeches. He stroked the naked legs in front of him and ran soft lips down one thigh. It was Estes' turn to shiver.

The tension between the two men continued to grow as Chance continued making the alterations. The officer was trembling as the tailor's hands smoothed over shoulders, arms, and down the muscular back; the tailor continued to drop pins out of shaking hands as he explored the powerful body in front of him.

Finally, the alterations were done and again Estes stood near-naked in front of the tailor. Chance slowly pulled his t-shirt off over his head and threw it into a corner. He smiled. The glow from the desk lamp made Renaldi inhumanly beautiful against the backdrop of the darkened room. Ted stared at a male body of such temptation that he had no doubt Satan himself had laughed on the day of its creation. The officer stepped up to Renaldi and began to stroke the firm, hard chest and drew them closer together.

"Oh, God ..." Chance breathed. Ted just chuckled. His lips tortured Chance's neck and jaw with hard kisses. Strong hands pushed open his jeans and pulled his cock from beneath his trunks. That incredible grip was stroking Renaldi. It was all Chance could do not to start pleading for more.

Ted knelt. His hot tongue snaked out running across the tip. "Oh, Jesus Christ Almighty, you taste like honey."

The whisper shot shivers through Chance's skin. When the tailor looked down, he damn near died. The patrolman was kissing and licking, torturing him with pleasure. Eyes half-lidded, Ted traced the head with his tongue. He was so into it. Nothing in the world existed but Estes' mouth and Chance's cock. Nobody had ever focused on the young tailor like that before. Finally, when he almost couldn't take the teasing anymore, Ted wrapped his lips over Renaldi's head and sucked. It felt so incredibly good. Chance laced his fingers in Ted's thick, black hair. Urging him on with his grip, Chance drove into that blissful heat. Estes kept taking it, more and deeper and harder. Finally, Chance shuddered through his fingers, "Christ, I'm gonna explode!"

Instead of backing off, Ted swallowed him. Stars shot off behind his eyes it was so good. Estes kept sucking until there wasn't anything left to suck.

Pulling back, dragging his tongue along Renaldi's sensitive shaft, Ted teased, "How do you feel, stud?"

Chance had to steady himself on Ted's shoulder. "Like I'm ready to collapse."

As Ted pulled the band of Renaldi's trunks up, he ran his finger around the tip. "You take good care of this ..."

Standing, he helped Chance button up his jeans. "Remember, I get my turn later." The last word was whispered against Chance's lips. This kiss was long and moist and deep.

"You like Japanese?"

* * *
After dinner, the two went back to Ted's small house. It was not long before they were naked and exploring every inch of each other's bodies. Their lovemaking was slow and tender, interspersed with gentle laughter. Spent, the men cradled each other. Estes kissed the young tailor.

"Thanks, Chance - you're amazing. I've never been with someone like you."

Renaldi chuckled. "You don't seem to be out of practice."

Ted got up on one elbow. "The physical part I don't have any problems with. Ever. It's the emotional part. When I saw you, I felt that a piece of my life that was missing just showed up. I've never felt this happy in my life."

The young patrolman had seen the depth of emotion between Josh and Perry; between TJ and Phil - and between Rob and Joe. More than anything, he yearned for that closeness, that intimacy with someone else. With a soft touch, he trailed his fingers in an intricate design across the other's hard chest.

Chance looked at him, a serious look on his face. "Ted, do you mean that? Do you really mean that?" he whispered.

The patrolman nodded.

The tailor took a deep breath. "I've always been close to Nonno and my dad hated that. He never got along with him. I don't know what got him angrier - the fact that I wanted to go into fashion design, or being closer to my grandpa than my own father. What broke the camel's back was when I came out - my dad threw me out of the house. My mother did nothing to stop him. Nonno took me in. And Mr. Giambi has helped me with my education ... I've been ... studying ... in Milan for the past four years. It hasn't been easy for me. I've been so afraid of being rejected that I've kept myself emotionally uninvolved. Nonno always said to me, 'Chance - one day you'll find the man that will fit into that missing piece of your heart. Don't give up.'"

He stroked along Estes' square jaw and caressed around the full lips. "I felt the earth move when I shook your hand today ... I can't believe you said what you just said." His green eyes were wet with unshed tears.

Ted sank back down onto the bed and nuzzled the tailor's neck. "I meant every word, Chance ... and I do believe I've fallen completely in love with you."

* * *

"What's up, Josh?"

Lieutenant Joshua Bateman has asked to see Estes after the morning's roll call. The young officer had knocked on the doorframe of the CO's office and came in.

"Close the door, Ted. Have a seat ...."

He saw the anxious look on the other's face. "Nothing's wrong, Ted. Relax ... I need to ask you something."

"You've heard of the 'C-Ring'?"

"The new fetish club on Broadway and 21st?"

"That's the one. We received some information that it's being used as a cover for human trafficking. We need to get someone in there to investigate. Someone undercover."

"Me??"

"You're a native Russian speaker. And Jaz - the only other cop who can speak Russian - is too well known in the community. The management - and probably the owners - are all Russian, too. This isn't an order, Ted. All I'm asking is if you'll consider the assignment."

Ted thought about it for a moment. "Sure. When do I start? Any prep work?"

"You'll need new ID and some back history. And ... I think we'll have to change your looks a bit to match the profile of a Russian mobster."

* * *

Ted Estes - now Adrik Stepanov - entered the cool darkness of fetish club. He had been a regular patron over several weeks and today - just as when he first entered - drew wanton looks from both the men and women present. His raven hair had been shaved off and he allowed his normally smooth face to grow a bit of dark stubble. He wore a full body harness that accentuated his slabbed pecs and 8-pack abdomen; the vertical leather strap disappeared into a pair of leather jeans which fit him like a second skin. He sauntered over to the bar and ordered a drink.

Adrik came to the attention of the manager several weeks ago when he took care of a rather troublesome patron. The night had began as normal, with the undercover officer entering the club and looking for a partner for a casual encounter. A loud crash made him spin around. A large man - a bodybuilder by the looks of him - had grabbed one of the waitresses and began to attack her. He was dressed in a pair of latex leggings and paratrooper boots. Her high-pitched wail cut through the music pounding through the room.

Without conscious thought, Adrik sprung into action. There were techniques that were taught at the joint training sessions between SMD officers and Lucio Giambi's men that could not be used in everyday situations - at least not by a law enforcement officer. Before starting the assignment, Josh had drilled into him - "There are no rules there, Ted. You have to be as ruthless as a Russian mobster or be killed by one." The bodybuilder was surprised to see the blur that was Adrik grab him arm and twist. The man heard the bones snap in his arm and fell to the floor, screaming. Stepanov knew that the spiral fracture he created would heal slowly - if at all.

He kicked the man with his steel-toed boots in the ribs and snarled at him. "Next time, tovarisch, don't touch the merchandize until you pay for it!" The bodybuilder curled up into a ball and retched.

Stepanov returned to the bar and growled. "Where's my goddamn drink?"

Adrik noticed a well-dressed man walking towards him. He stood out from the crowd in that he was not in either leather or latex. "That was quite a performance, Mr. ...."

"Just call me Adrik."

He put out his hand. "Konstantin Semenov. I'm the manager here. I've noticed you around for the past few weeks. I didn't know you were so ... talented." He had switched to Russian.

Adrik followed suit. He ignored the proffered hand. "I come here for the drinks and the sex. I don't like having either one of those disturbed."

"I do appreciate you taking care of that situation with a minimum of fuss..." Semenov laid a hand on the other's arm - the undercover officer looked down at the touch and then glared at the other man. Konstantin blushed and quickly withdrew it. Interesting.

"Are you looking for work?"

"I'm freelancing right now."

"Well, if you're interested in something more permanent, let me know." Semenov turned to leave. Adrik's hand shot out and clamped around his forearm in an iron grip. He gave the manager an evil grin.

"Maybe we should talk about the management style here..." Stepanov pulled the manager to him and crushed their lips together in a brutal kiss.

* * *

Konstantin wasted no time. Soon, the two were out of the club and entering his apartment.

"Want a drink?"

"Strip."

"What?"

Adrik slapped him. Open handed and hard enough to sting.

"Get out of those clothes. I want to inspect the meat I'm going to fuck."

Semenov was taken aback by the icy command in the other's voice. He began to undress. Soon he was standing naked in front of the leather-clad Russian mobster. Adrik walked around him, nodding appreciatively as he circled the other man. He then undid the double zippers on his jeans. Stepanov pulled the flap down to expose his massive cock and balls, encircled by a heavy steel ring connected to his harness.

As Konstantin watched, the mobster's tool grew larger and more engorged. Saliva flooded into the manager's mouth and he fell onto his knees, wanting to take that dick in his mouth.

"Not yet", he said, grabbing Semenov's head and pushing it to the ground. "Lick my boots clean, uboy." He started to lave the boots with his tongue.

"Lick harder ..." he growled. "I want to see them shine." He ground his other foot down on the manager's head to get the other's tongue closer on his boot.

The hard leather tasted good and Konstantin's cock rose even more. Feeling the boot leave his head, he slowly started to lick his way up Adrik's leather-clad leg, savoring the taste and flavor of the hot material, feeling the heat of his muscular calves and thighs beneath. He reached his balls, and paused.

"I said, 'not yet', styervo!", the gangster said and slapped him again. He directed Semenov's tongue higher, following the rippling muscles from his crotch to his navel, then further up. He took each nipple in his mouth, enjoying the smell, the taste of this man, gliding his tongue over his skin, then along the leather straps of the harness, worshiping his muscled arms. His head was shoved downwards.

"Suck", he demanded and pointed to his huge piece of meat. Sememov followed the order, suctioning the tip with abandon. Adrik grabbed the other's head, holding it steady and proceeded to fuck his mouth until his tonsils were ringing. Fast, then slow, then fast again. He withdrew, looking at his glistening dick, and looked at the manager's greedy mouth and even greedier face. He knew he had the other man exactly where he wanted - he would do anything for him.

Semenov looked into Adrik's eyes and the mobster grinned. Not a nice smile, but an evil upward curve of the lips. He opened his mouth, and the manager thought he wanted to kiss him. He spat in Semenov's face, then bent towards him to lick the spittle off the other's shocked expression. His stubble scratched.

He grunted. "Turn around and bend over, pedik!" Semenov did as he was told, his dick now aching and his balls ready to burst. Adrik put his hand around the other's cock and bent it back. It hurt. He flicked his fingers against it, which hurt even more and the manager moaned, making the mobster flick even harder, bending it back even more, before letting it go. A finger - then two - penetrated the tight pucker. He fucked the other man with his fingers - three, then four, feeling the inside of his guts.

"Nice and tight ...", removing his hand. "... tight enough for a real fuck!"

"Please!!!" The other man moaned.

Stepanov spat on the trembling pucker and rammed his massive ten inches into the club manager in one thrust. Konstantin screamed in a combination of agony and ecstasy. In and out the Russian gangster pistoned; his breathing increased in speed as pumped into the sweating, trembling man beneath him. After a steady pounding, he bellowed and Semenov felt his guts fill with the hot seed of the man astride him. He collapsed onto the floor.

Adrik withdrew and the gangster grabbed Semenov's shirt - wiping the sweat off his torso and cleaning himself off. With difficulty, he forced his still erect tool back into the jeans and zipped them up once again. He threw the shirt - drenched with sweat and spunk - onto the floor in front of the other man. He headed out the door.

"We'll talk about my salary tomorrow."

* * *

It was 3am. The witching hour. That time of night when the city slumbered and a deathly stillness pervaded the air.

A single, dim lamp barely lit the room of the rental apartment. Joshua Bateman sat in a well-worn chair as Ted paced. The undercover officer was wearing a snug pair of black jeans and a form-fitting tank top with the double-headed Russian eagle embroidered in red. Black leather gauntlets wrapped around his powerful wrists and a black leather armband strained against his left bicep. Black and grey soccer shoes squeaked softly on the wooden floor.

"Ted, you've gotten enough evidence for us to go in on the human trafficking charge - what's wrong?"

"Josh, something else is going on there. I'm not sure what yet. But it's much bigger than what we could bust them on. I feel it. I don't want to leave until I find out."

"Are you getting in too deep?"

Ted ran a hand over his shaved skull. "No ... I don't know ... hell, maybe ... I can't tell any more."

Joshua got up, concern creasing his handsome face. "What do you mean, Ted - 'I don't know ' - what aren't you telling me?" He held Ted by the shoulders and rubbed them gently.

Ted was distraught. "Josh ... I know you said when I started undercover that I had to act like a Russian gangster or be killed by one. I'm good at it. I'm so good at it that it's frightening the hell out of me. When I go to work now as Adrik Stepanov - I'm brutal. I beat the shit out of people, I transport the slaves to God knows where - and I enjoy it. I don't know where the acting ends and my feelings start."

He pulled the CHP lieutenant into a crushing embrace. "Hold me, Josh. Hold me. Oh God, I feel I'm slipping away piece by piece. I'm afraid of waking up one day as Adrik Stepanov and Ted Estes will be gone."

Bateman held the other officer and caressed his muscular back as shudders ran through his body.

"We could get you arrested. That would get you out of there with your cover intact. Do you want me to do that?"

Estes shook his head and gave Joshua a wan smile. "No, it's OK. I just needed to get grounded again. I had to get a little of my own life back - even for a few minutes. You can't imagine the headspace I'm in as Adrik."

Joshua thought back to his encounter with the TJ as the Rubber Toy and the things that were done to the other officer. "I think I can."

"Ted, you mentioned before you took this assignment you were seeing someone. It's not another SMD officer, is it?"

He shook his head.

"Is it serious?"

Estes smiled. "Oh, yeah, it's serious. I haven't been able to contact him since I started. Didn't want to risk him or the assignment. I feel ... complete when I'm with him. Damn, I miss him so much..."

"Well, think of him when you start getting scared of losing yourself. He's waiting for you, isn't he?"

"Uh-huh. Last message I left for him was I was going to be unavailable for some time, but I'd be back with him as soon as I could. He left a message back that he's counting the days until we're together again."

Joshua grinned. "He sounds like a terrific guy."

Estes returned the smile. "He is. Thanks for everything Josh. Thanks for being here for me."

* * *

Adrik got into the elevator and pressed the "1" button. The club had been built on over a large subterranean storage facility - maybe a fallout shelter - and the owners of the C-Ring made good use of hidden areas for their human trafficking and other illicit activities. He was alone and bored. The indicator light glowed at "SB3" and would move up through "SB2", "SB1", "B" and then the main floor, "1".

The doors closed and the elevator began to move. Two seconds. "SB2" glowed. Two more seconds and "SB1" turned yellow. Four seconds. "B" lit up. Finally two more seconds and he was on the main floor. He had dropped off some collection money and was heading out for another run when he stopped dead in his tracks.

The elevator took two seconds between each floor. Why did it take four seconds to get between the basement and sub-level 1? Why twice as long? Was there a hidden floor?
Stepanov returned to the club and re-entered the elevator. He pressed the button for "SB3" and began to count. When he reached six seconds, he hit the emergency stop button. The elevator car juddered to a halt. He put his hands between the doors and pried them apart.
There was another floor! Adrik jumped out of the car and landed nimbly onto the hidden level. He turned around and wedged the satchel he carried between the doors to make sure they would not close on him. He crept down the dimly lit corridor.

* * *

The passageway was long, with side tunnels appearing on each side, every ten yards. As he passed one of the darkened entrances, he felt a breeze behind him and a powerful arm grabbed him around the neck. Adrik jammed an elbow backwards and broke the hold. The next thing he knew, he found himself flat on his back with a heavy boot in the middle of his chest.

The man towering over him whispered. "Ted? What the fuck are you doing here? I nearly killed you!"

Adrik looked up to see the surprised face of Chance Renaldi above him.He was dressed in a pair of tight black latex leggings and a black latex hoodie. Thin, black latex gloves covered his hands. A tall pair of combat boots completed the outfit.

"Chance? Why are y-"

"Shhhh! Come on!"

The tailor pulled him up - he was incredibly strong - and the two reentered the darkened side tunnel. They whispered quietly to each other.

"You're Trained!!! What the hell is going on here? How did you get me on the floor? Why are you here?"

"I'm fronting as the DJ at the club. I work for Lucio, Ted. I just couldn't tell you before. Then you went on your undercover assignment and I didn't have the opportunity. Hell, I didn't know the assignment was here. Some of his top guys go through a bit more training than you SMD guys do. It's an automatic death sentence if any of us ever use what we've learned on a law enforcement officer. No excuses. No exceptions. Thank God I recognized you or we would both be dead men."

"What are you doing here?"

"These guys aren't Russians. They're Chechens. Nasty fuckers. We - Lucio's people and some Feds we work with - thought they were up to some terrorist activities."

He looked serious and angry at the same time.

"We weren't wrong."

"What about the Homeland Security? Why aren't they spearheading this?"

Chance scowled. "His Oneness has decided that HSA has to deal with 'real issues' - like hurricanes and floods. If we waited for him, we'd have thousands of people six feet under already."

"What's going on down here?"

"I'll show you."

The two men move stealthily in the dark, around corners and down dimly lit corridors. Soon they came to another junction. Renaldi put up his hand to stop. They heard voices coming from a nearby room.

".... how much do you have?"

"About 15 kilos. That's enough for four bombs."

"Bombs?" Estes mouthed.

Chance nodded. He motioned to the other man to sink deeper into the shadows and wind their way back. Once they were far enough away, the tailor stopped him.

"They're planning on exploding dirty bombs made of Cobalt-60. I don't know if they're all going to be detonated here or they're going to ship them out. I've got to let Lucio know about this and get our guys ready for a raid before they move them. You'd better get out of here. The elevator is down the corridor and two right turns."

He gave his lover a quick kiss.

"Hurry Ted ... you don't want to be missed ... or caught down here..."

* * *

Adrik climbed back aboard the elevator and released the emergency button. Almost immediately, the car descended and the doors opened again on the third level. He pushed the button for "1" and the elevator began its ascent once more. Stepanov exited the elevator and the last thing he felt before spiraling into darkness was a heavy blow to the back of his head.

* * *

Ted woke slowly to find himself tied securely to a chair. Everything ached. Blearily, he looked around to see Semenov and another, larger man staring back at him.

"I told you that your taste for cock would get us in trouble, Konstantin. I should kill you along with him."

Pabiyan Solovyov grabbed Estes by the jaw. "Who sent you here, pizd'uk? Huh?" He balled his fist and smashed into the policeman's cheek; Ted's head snapped back. Almost immediately, a purpling bruise began to form.

Ted looked up at him, murder and defiance in his eyes. "Pososi moyu konfetku, motherfucker!" He spat. A gob of spittle - mixed with blood - dribbled down the Russian mobster's face.

Solovyov hauled off and hit him again. Estes felt several teeth loosen in his jaw. He pulled a gun out of his waistband and tossed to Semenov.

"Finish him off and then toss the body into the acid bath. I trust you won't fuck this up?"

"No, Pabiyan, I won't."

Solovyov grumbled as he left the room and closing the door. "You better not, you sukin syn. We're going to have to accelerate the schedule, now. We don't know who he's told."
Semenov pistol-whipped the captive man, creating another darkening welt on the opposite side of his face.

"Bastard!" He snarled. The manager heard the knob rattle and turned to the door, expecting further instructions from the mob boss. When the door opened, however, a flash of steel flew through the air and Konstantin crumbled to the floor. Ted saw the handle of a screwdriver vibrating in the manager's eye socket as the pool of blood spread onto the concrete.

Chance quickly entered the room and quietly shut the door. He rushed over to Ted and grabbed a nearby knife to release him from his bonds. He grabbed the gun from the dead manager and tossed it to the patrolman.

"Let's get out of here. All hell is gonna break loose any minute."

Ted stared at him and rubbed his wrists. "Thanks. That was amazing!"

Chance gave him a quick grin. "Shitty balance. You should see me with my throwing knives."

"What about Solovyov?"

Renaldi gave him a grim smile. "He's not going to be attacking any CHP officers ever again." He gently touched the bruises on his lover's face. "You okay?"

Ted winced. "Nothing some ice and a good dentist can't fix."

The two heard muffled explosions from nearby.

"C'mon Ted, let's move."

Outside the room, it was chaos. Lights had been brought to full intensity in the corridors and personnel were scurrying to and fro. Chance and Ted heard the sounds of screams and automatic fire close by.

"We're in the basement level. Can you handle a flight of stairs?"

The CHP patrolman nodded. "I think so. Why? Do I look that bad?"

Chance spoke into the combat microphone wrapped around his ear. "Frankie, I need a clear path to the south stairs - basement to ground level. I'm bringing someone out and I need an ambulance."

The two ran down corridors, making a series of dizzying left and right turns. Chance led and Ted followed. Estes stopped and leaned against a wall. His breath came in ragged gasps; his chest felt as if it was on fire. Renaldi stopped and ran back to him.

He gave his lover a crooked grin. "I ... I guess I'm more banged up than I thought ..." Estes slid down to the floor.
The gun slipped out of his hand and his vision began to darken at the edges. "Oh, shit..."
 
The patrolman felt himself being lifted up and draped around the other man's shoulders in a fireman's carry. He vaguely remembered the jarring flight up the stairs and some conversations between the tailor and another Giambi soldieri.

"Frankie, status report?"

"Boss, the lab was secured and the materials removed. We have all the sublevels wired with the Semtex and C4."

"Casualties?"

"Jamal got hit in the foot and Jake has a shoulder wound."

"Not bad. Everybody out?"

"Yep. Just you, me and my crew left."

"OK, clear the decks and let's blow the place."

Ted had fought the blackness overtaking him but finally succumbed. He drifted down into unconsciousness...

* * *

... And woke up again in the back of an ambulance. A handsome, muscular latino was bending over him and gave a big grin. He was dressed in a tight black t-shirt and urban camo pants. His head was shaved and he sported a sharply defined, razor-cut stubble beard around full lips.

"Hey, lindo - you're gonna be just fine. Just keep still, OK? You've got a mild concussion and a couple of cracked ribs. I've taped you up and we're heading for St. John's. We'll be there in a few minutes."

Chance Renaldi came into view, a wide smile on his face. He grasped the patrolman's hand and held it. He gave the latino a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for fixing him up, Frankie."

"My pleasure, boss."

"You did a great job back there, Ted. Everyone's proud of you."

"Chance ...?"

"What, love?"

"You're not exactly just a tailor, right?"

Chance squeezed his hand. "No. I eliminate ... problems ... for Lucio. Most of my work has been in Italy and Greece. I have my degree in design from the Scuola Politecnica di Design in Milan and I asked Lucio for a transfer stateside. Nonno needs me here with him - he's not as young as he used to be."

"You're a hitman?"

Renaldi nodded. " 'Hey Ted ... by the way, I kill people for a living .' isn't exactly an ice-breaker, is it?"

Estes laughed and winced. "Owww! Don't make me laugh."

"You don't mind?"

The patrolman squeezed the assassin's hand. "Not in the least. As long as you don't mind having a cop for a lover?"

"Nope. Nonno is going to be so happy, you know that?"

"Really? Why?"

Chance blushed. "You're his favorite SMD officer ... and he was hoping we'd get together."

Estes pulled Renaldi's hand up and gave it a kiss. "Well, here's to your grandpa the matchmaker."

* * *

Glossary:

tovarisch - comrade
uboy - male homosexual
styervo - bitch
pedik - male homosexual
pizd'uk - bastard
pososi moyu konfetku - suck my dick
sukin syn - son of a bitch

* * *

I've mentioned before how my characters often take on a life of their own as I begin to write. With this story, however, that started even earlier - at the outline stage. Originally, I was planning on having a traffic stop with the mohawk punk turn into a strip search. Chance didn't even exist at that point. He was just some throwaway character with a completely different personality.

But that just didn't want to write itself. All the pieces fell into place when a buddy of mine had an almost-experience with a seamstress alone in a store. At that point, I knew that Chance was going to be a tailor. I knew he was Bino's grandson, and I knew he would become romantically involved with a SMD officer.

Maybe because of all the turmoil going on right now - economic and otherwise - I don't think I've been alone in a doing some deep thinking and soul searching. I count myself very lucky to have the bf I do - and I wanted to have those feelings being expressed between Ted and Chance.

The elevator sequence. I will admit, that was not originally my idea. I vaguely remember a similar "a-ha!" moment happening on an episode of Babylon 5 - one of my all-time favorite sci-fi shows.

Frankie - the latino medic/mob lieutenant - will also be making some additional appearances - either as a supporting character, or I'll do a whole episode on him. Time will tell.