The Lady in Black

Alexandra Mosca is a mortician--or, as she prefers, a funeral director. And if there's one thing that bugs a funeral director--a stunning, funny and bright funeral director--it's being sloughed, off as a mysterious, black-cloaked phantom. Playboy--having in the past found beauties among the women of Mensa, on the Springfield, Ohio, police force and even in the forests of Alaska--has now added Alexandra to its list of discoveries and, luckily for us, Morticia Addams she's not. "I'm posing for these pictures to prove that the undertaker isn't that shadowy figure depicted in mythology. True, we wear black suits and not a lot of make-up, but Playboy found me attractive. Frankly, I'm flattered." Alexandra was born 28 years ago aboard a ship in the Mediterranean. Her mother, a Greek, died in childbirth and her father, an Italian, put her up for adoption. Making her first transatlantic trip as an infant, she ultimately wound up in Queens, New York. "As a child, I was always interested in--fascinated by might be the wrong term--death." Eventually, that admittedly macabre preoccupation led Alexandra to undertake her first undertaking assignment. During a Las Vegas Night at a local church, she met a man who happened to be a funeral director ("We were playing craps"). Somehow, he persuaded her to work for him. It was a far cry from your typical part-time job (no cashier-at-the-local-candy-store stuff for Alexandra), and she soon found herself absorbed in her work. "I felt I was helping people. See, when you're a teenager, you somehow think you're immortal. Life'll never end. When you're a funeral director, that whole notion changes. In fact," she adds quietly, "whenever I'm feeling sorry for myself, I think about the young people I've buried. That's when I suddenly feel very lucky." Realizing she had found a career, Alexandra began to save her money. In 1982, she became proprietor of her own funeral service in Queens. Believe it or not, life in the funeral lane is fast, and that sometimes poses social problems for Alexandra. "I've had three fiancés and numerous boyfriends. The fiancés were old-fashioned men who wanted me to stay home and make macaroni. As for the boyfriends--well, they were a little better. They weren't taken aback by my profession, but they'd get annoyed when I was beeped in the middle of a romantic dinner. That's understandable, but, hell, you never know when you're going to get business." And when it comes to business, Alexandra shines. She radiates a compassionate--almost tender--aura. "After the embalming, I dress and make up the body. You have to take great care not to overdo the make-up; otherwise, they'd look like dolls. I want to make them appear peaceful. Then there's the family. You're the target for their grief. They'll spar with you and give you a certain amount of abuse, so you need infinite patience." She takes a deep breath and smiles with her eyes. "The real reward is when they come back later and say: 'You made this terrible experience a little easier for us.'" Alexandra maintains her sense of humor, even when contemplating her own demise. "I wish I could take care of myself when I die," she comments with a some-what bizarre enthusiasm. "Obviously, I can't. But when I do go, I get the feeling there'll be a lottery. A lot of men in the biz would love to see me naked." Well, now those men have their chance--while Alexandra is still emphatically alive. Although in the past Alexandra had posed for more than 200 oil paintings by an artist friend, her gig in front of the Playboy cameras was something new. She's fully aware that she may get some flak as a result and has decided to make no excuses whatever. "It has taken me a long time to realize it, but I think I'm a bit of an exhibitionist." But just as Alexandra was opening up, the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Honest to God--she was beeped.