"“A bad boy can be very good for a girl. You'll see."
Full Name: Greyson Alexander Walker
Gender: Would you like to see my cock? I'm sure that'd be evidence enough for you.
Age: I'm Twenty-Three.
Nicknames: Please, call me Grey.
Occupation: I'm The Masquerader, but no-one knows my true identity. If you don't know who that is, go down to the night club around the corner from Mercer Towers. You see that man on the poster outside, the one that ladies queue up to stare at all evening? Well...
Height: Six foot, one inches.
Weight: 162lbs, a lot of it being muscle.
Build: I'm very muscular - I have to be to stay in my line of work,
Hair Color: It's brown.
Eye Color: My eyes are an ocean blue colour.
Scars?: I have a couple of small ones on my back.
Brief Written Description: What would you like me to say? I can sit here and boast about my looks to you, but that will probably just make you feel bad about yourself. But fine, you asked for it. I'm ridiculously good looking, that can be agreed on; I have chiseled features that could rival Michelangelo's statue of David, and you haven't seen muscles until you've seen mine up close. My eyes, well, I've been told in the past that they can stare into your soul and make a woman's legs turn to jelly (true quote), and my smile could probably light up a town - it's rather bright. I don't really have to try hard with my looks, everything just kind of falls into place - my hair, my clothing style, everything is put down to chance in the mornings, and comes out as perfection.
Skills: ♦ Dancing: I have a natural rhythm, something that is rivaled by many in my line of work. I'm just able to sway to the music and make it look sexy. It's not difficult, I know, but still - it's definitely a skill I like to brag about.
♦ Flirting: I know this really shouldn't count as a skill, as it's more of a personality trait, but I like to think that it takes a long time practicing to get it perfect, and that's what I have done. I've spent a lot of time wooing women and flirting with them, and it's something I know how to do well.
♦ Cooking: I don't let anyone other than myself know this, but I'm an amazing cook. Food has always been a love of mine, and when I moved to university, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen, working out ways to make the university food taste better. My food was a hit in the campus. It's actually quite a relaxing hobby.
Quirks: ♦ I have this flirtatious, half smile that I always do when I'm in a good mood, or working, or flirting... really, it's on my face for a lot of the time that I'm not pissed off, and it's kind of a trade mark of mine. ♦ If I'm in a bad mood, I'll have my glasses on, although it's rare that I am in that bad of a mood. ♦
Likes: ♦ Sex ♦ women ♦ walking around naked after showering, having sex or exercising ♦ sweet popcorn ♦ surprisingly, history ♦ a good party ♦ whiskey ♦ the smell of freshly cut grass ♦ that first drag on a cigarette ♦ a good cup of coffee
Dislikes: ♦ Being too cold, or too hot ♦ when people wear too much cologne or perfume ♦ being interrupted ♦ disappointing people ♦ anything too sickly or chocolately ♦ flying bugs that are alive just to fucking piss me off ♦ goats ♦ tall, burly men ♦ girls that are too clingy ♦ people touching my things.
Fears: My biggest fear? This is the only time you'll ever hear me say it so take notes; Commitment. Babies, marriages - all of that shit sends a shiver down my spine. I can think of nothing worse than being stuck in that sort of life. I also have two other fears, which have been actually been confirmed as phobias of mine; Virginitiphobia, the fear of rape, and anginophobia, the fear of choking or drowning - I don't really like large bodies of water.
Personality: Overall, I'm a dickhead, not going to lie there. I don't really care about anything, other than myself, and I would much rather stay up partying all night than actually doing anything worth my time or money. I don't care about who I end up doing, or how I do them, just that I get to do them at all. Feelings are a strange thing that I don't really understand, something I haven't felt in a long time since I left home, and Lacey behind. I'm very confident in whatever I do, and I can be extremely protective of those closest to me. I obviously hate doing it, showing that I can care, and will get all up in your face about it for the next few days punishing that person, but I'll always be there - an extremely loyal boy, I am. I also follows my gut-instinct, letting it take control over me from time to time; and my instinctual and primal side also takes over when it comes to the ladies.
I'm not an every night drinker, and absolutely hate anything to do with drugs, but I'll get involved with any party that's being thrown, even if I'm not invited, and I'll always end up leaving with someone on my arm. It's strange to come home and see me alone in bed - there's usually a girl or two in there with me. I am a man with a way with words, and a charmingly false smile on my face - I have everything to woo the ladies in. It doesn't take me long to do so, and after years of practicing, I'm able to woo almost anyone into bed. Sex is everything to me; the thing that makes me feel good, feel confident and ... well, I just likes a good fuck. I don''t hang around after, however. No spooning or any of that shit after sex - do not mistake me for someone looking for a relationship. I'm just a guy, looking for a good time.
Relationship Status: Single; I couldn't have it any other way.
History: I was born Greyson Alexander Walker on the Nineteenth of March to Elizabeth and Carter Walker, an upper class couple who had tried for years to have a child, resulting in their one son - me. Carter was the CEO of as large business that he had created himself, selling computer software to rival Apple and Microsoft. With no brothers and sisters, I was the apple of his parent's eyes, being treated to whatever I wanted, being taken out all of the time on family trips. It seemed like a perfect family, a father, mother and son, going out together all of the time, bright smiles on their faces, laughter coming out of their mouths. But, that was only a facade - a ploy put on by my father to to the public, to cover up what happened at home, behind the closed, ornately decorated doors.
Everything wasn't so peachy as it seemed, when the doors were closed on my family. Whilst my father seemed liked the perfect dad outside of the home, inside, he was the complete opposite. My father was a heavy drinker, and almost every night, when he came home, he would down an entire bottle of vodka. Once the male was sufficiently drunk, he would move towards both me and my mother, stalking at a slow, wobbly pace. But, instead of hitting his wife and child like a normal abusive drunk, Carter would send his wife away, into the kitchen to start dinner. Once the woman had left, it was just the father and son, situated in the lounge together. I was only seven years old when the abuse first started, when my father began touching me in places that I felt uncomfortable letting him touch. Every night for almost nine years, the same thing would happen - Carter would come in, drink, and then sexually abuse me, my screams resounding around the house. When I tried to cry on my mother's shoulders, to ask her why she didn't ever try to stop Daddy from hurting me, all she would do was shake her head, and turn away. I rarely went out, if only to go to school and back, and I didn't have any friends to talk to. If anything, I soon started to believe that what my father did to me was natural, that it happened to everyone.
I knew nothing of a healthy childhood, but everything started to change when I started school. I made friends with a girl named Lacey, a girl who became my very best friend. Lacey was the first person that I told about my father's abuse, and she was the one who encouraged me to tell a teacher, to get everything changed for me. I instantly felt comfortable around her, more comfortable than I had ever felt around anyone before, and so, I believed her. I told his teachers about the things that father did to me when he was drunk, and the look of horror on their faces instantly made me see that my father had been wrong to touch me. That night, police arrived at my house, whilst father was in the middle of his abuse, and he was taken away, arrested on countless charges of child molestation. My mother was also apprehended, but was soon released, as they realized that she had been a victim too, but on a different level. My father was soon charged in court, and was sentenced to twenty years in prison.
I would never be a normal child, however. My childhood had been stolen from me by a sick man, and no amount of time with the most expensive counselors was going to change that, and now, everyone knew my face as the man who's rich father had abused him. I spent most of my time hanging around outside with Lacey, drinking, and smoking, trying to forget everything that had happened. Over time, I grew to care more and more about Lacey, the two of us experiencing many moments where we almost fell into bed together, but I was always the one to pull away - not wanting to ruin the only friendship that I had. I tried my best throughout school, although, grades never interested me much. I was quite smart, but never put the effort in to achieve anything. To distract myself, I became fascinated with women - anything to do with the feminine form incited me. It took my mind away from Lacey, away from my past, away from my mother and herr new boyfriend. As long as the woman was willing, I would take them anywhere - her home, an alleyway, a car, park, anywhere, but my own home.
Soon, everything changed and I had to go off to college, to study further in life. I didn't want to be stuck in the same town I had grown up in, and soon, I was leaving behind my beloved Lacey, and everything I knew. My mum gave me a shit load of money to live on, and access to the bank accounts, so I was fine throughout my first years away from home. I finished collage, and quickly made the decision to live on my own, at Mercer Towers - and I've never looked back.
Theme Song: Womanizer - Britney Spears