TRAVELER
Chapter 231

by CARL DICKSON

Our hope is that every homosexual youth in this country can find a home and someone to love them as they are.
No one deserves to be discriminated against, no matter what their differences from society's norm
.

A tidy quote from chapter 137
"titles belong on books, not people" ©Carl Dickson—2007

Does your mother know you're reading this shit?

Warning: This story is PORNO. I have tried my hand at friction, now I'm trying fiction. This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men and teen boys.
It contains no truth, partial truth, or half truth. What it does contain is stroking material. If this kind of story turns you off, or offends you, please find something else.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and underage children.

If you are underage, or if this is illegal where you are, then please go away. If you're under 18, Adios come back when it is legal for you to read this smut.
If you lied about your age in order to access this story, remember this is our story. Life doesn't always work out like a story.

A strongly worded suggestion has resulted in this statement.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitioiusly,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Thus said, this story is copyrighted, ©2005-2012. It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story on any other web site without my written permission.


You may download the CHEROKEE TONT for free at this link. Dowload it, install it, then enjoy seeing tfe TSAIAGI names in this story. This font is included in thfull version Send an e-mail for it .
    The fun and games with the court fiasco had caused a delay in a trip that I had planned for earlier when England's schools took their spring break. At this later late date I was without my translator. Young Alexei Putin and his father had accompanied me on my initial trip to Russia in 2007. This time Boris was involved in negations with Japan for a large business venture that could mean millions of euros to his company. Alexei is of age and he got his father to agree to his accompanying me. The court business took away the narrow window of opportunity.
    This time I was flying directly to Moscow in FI-2. I had not seen the school there and they had been writing to me for more money, over and over again. I took off for the city of onion doomed roof tops with Pete, Mike, and Bryan as my crew. Alright so Bryan is short a few hours to receive his fixed wing, jet powered license. I didn't care. The boy is a good pilot and I trust him. The FAA can have their hissy fit, I own the plane, I was the only passenger aboard and I wanted someone that I knew to fly me across the frozen north lands. Of course we were taking the northern route over the top of the world. We are not complete fools you know.
    I felt like a fool when I stepped off of FI-2. I am a human, believe it or not. I day dream from time to time. I am very guilty of speculating what is going to happen in an upcoming event. In this case I had the typical American vision of Russia being a snowbound country with tanks and military vehicles sitting on every corner with trench coated men in black cars pulling people from their cars and searching them. I was also wondering what sort of ground transpiration would be provided for me. I expected something along the lines of the stretch Hummer that I had ridden in in New York in 2005.
    Boy have I had a lot of flack over that. The pictures that were taken of Cullen and me…let's just say that a military type vehicle like a hummer is not what I hoped to see in Moscow.
    When Pete shut down the engines I opened the door; the steps folded out and down. Waiting near the plane was a beautiful limousine that I later learned was called a Werwolf. There were two men near the car arguing with a younger man about thirty years old. I was reluctant to leave my cocoon of safety. One of the men looked up and saw me. He broke away from the other two men and walked toward me. The other men were shouting at hm. I don't know much Russian, but I do know some of the off color words that were following the man approaching me.
    The man met me at the foot of the steps. "Sir Dickson, it is an honor. My name is Николáй Алексáндрович Алексéев— Nikolay Alexandrovich Alexeyev ."
    The other two men moved in and tried to push Nikolay aside. One of them extended his hand as he said, "Я ваш переводчик, сэр—I am your translator, sir."
    "Very well. What is your name? Are you fluent in American English?"
    "Да сэр—yes, sir." That disturbed me. A good translator would not have answered in his native tongue. I understand very little Russian and speak none of it ."Я ваш Афон сэр—I am Afon, sir."
    "Afon, that's Athos in English, yes? And you are?" I reached out to shake the hand of a very fat man that was so ugly that the sun hid behind a cloud so that it would not have to look upon his pock marred face.
    "Dis are mon брат—brother," Afon said by way of introduction.
    "I am sorry, but you do not speak enough English for me. Nikolay, would you honor me by acting as my interpreter until I can acquire another?"
    "The honor will be mine, Sir Chris."
    I'll just translate the dialog between the brothers the best way I can—"You can not do this. We are the educators. We are the runners of the school. We serve the boys there…" I called to mind an old Russian phrase, A fish rots from the head. These two were rotten. I had no proof of that yet, but there was a reason that Klementi Shablkov had called for me to inspect the Moscow school. The school had been open for more than a year, yet I had no list of expenses; I just had many requests for funds from them. I like for my business ventures to be self supporting, but I also like to be kept current on their expenditures and goals.

    I gave instructions to Pete, Mike, and Bryan to stay alert and to stay in touch with the FI dispatcher. We do have offices in Moscow and I had already been given a signal by six different men about the area that we were being looked after. I spoke in Tsalagi to Mike and told him about the agents nearby. I gave him a simple hand gesture to share with the other two that they should use if they felt that they were in danger. I love those three boys, but they were also my ride home, I couldn't let anything happen to them now, could I?

    I was escorted to the Werwolf by the two brothers. I placed my arm around Nikolay's arm in a typical Russian sign of friendship and walked him to the car. I directed him to get into the car ahead of me and then indicated that he should sit on the large back seat, I slid in next to him. The two brothers sat in the front. After another argument Afon drove. I was curious about Nikolay, but he gave me a sign that I interpreted to mean 'back off', I would wait for a better time to talk with him.
    I was getting used to the stark appearance of the old buildings as we drove, but I was still shocked as we stopped next to a very tall warehouse in a distinctly seedy part of the city. Afon removed a heavy chain from the front doors and bade me enter. What met my eyes appalled me, and my reaction was not lost on Nikolay. The first thing that I noticed was the cold, it was late April so I suppose that the winter weather had not let go of the land that far north.
    The warehouse had not been made over, as I was led to believe. There was one large room on each of seven floors. Each had bare walls of poured concrete with no insulation to protect the boys from the cold. The ceilings were twenty five feet high with bare light bulbs hanging down fifteen feet from a single wire every ten feet along the room and across it.
    The floors were bare concrete and I could feel the cold through my shoes. I had no idea how boys could move around the room barefooted. Several boys sat on their beds, if one could call them that. The metal bed frames had once been white, now they were rusted pieces of scrap metal. What served as a mattress was so thin that it could not give any comfort. The mattresses were bare. Each boy had two heavy woolen blankets, one he used for a pillow; unless it was really cold.
    I walked over to a youngster of about fifteen and sat down on his bed beside him. I almost went through to the floor. The springs were mostly gone along the sides. The length of wire frame bed springs were mostly tied in place with bits of old wire, making the bed more of a hammock than anything else.
    Lunchtime was announced. I joined the boys for my first Russian meal. The lunch room was as stark as the sleeping quarters. Large metal pots sat on open burners on the floor heating the day's fare. It was less than fare in my way of thinking. I found a place at the end of the line. I was offered to move to the front, but I declined. I watched each boy sniff of his bowl of soup and turn his nose up. I was at the verge of tears. I wanted to gather all of the boys up and take them to an all-you-can-eat diner.
    As I approached the food server I saw a fat, sweaty old man with a cigarette hanging from his blue lips. He had a bottle of vodka in his apron pocket. A very old and sweat stained paper server's style cap sat atop a head of greasy, filthy black hair. His hands were as big as a concrete block, well they were huge. The rusty dipper that he held looked no larger than a tablespoon in his hand.
    He dipped into the large pot of soup and scooped up a ladle full and slopped it into the proffered bowl of the boy in front of me. The boy moved on to the bread as my attention was focused on the cook. He dipped up a bowl of the reddish soup for me and passed it over. I nodded my thanks and moved to the large pan of bread. I picked up a piece—it was almost a half pound of thick dark bread—it was as hard as a rock. Next on the line was a quarter pound of cheese that had been fresh a few days earlier. The last pan contained onions, with black mold under the skins. I selected one and moved out of the way of the boys coming up behind me.
    "Do the boys always eat like this?" I asked Nikolay.
    He turned to the two administrators who were pointing toward a pile of very rotten potatoes piled in the corner. Even as far away as I was I could see the cockroaches crawling over the pile of rotting food. "No, he says that tomorrow they will have hot potato soup." I was holding a bowl of soup in my hand, it was not hot. It was not even warm.
    "As hot as this?
    "Look, Nikolay, you are not connected to this school. I am a foreigner to this country, but this violates everything that I stand for. This whole place is a travesty and should be condemned. This is your city. Tell me where I can get hot food for these boys, right now."
    "There is what you would call a cafeteria two blocks away, sir."
    "Stop with the sir shit and help me get those boys dressed warmly so that we can go over there to eat."


    The boys marched in a double row, like little school boys. Afon and his brother walked along behind. The brother was talking in hushed tones, he seemed to be talking to the boys at the rear of the two columns. I know very little Russian and even less about lingual inflection, but I could make out the subtle threat of his voice. I looked at Nikolay, he rolled his eyes at me. I had a problem on my hands.
    We stepped around a corner onto a wide boulevard. We were standing before a brightly lit restaurant with tall, wide windows that let us see many happy diners sitting about their tables inside. I watched the boys for their reaction. They were hungry. I asked Nikolay to have them move into two semi-circle lines before me then asked him to translate for me.
    "Young gentlemen, we are going inside to eat. You may eat as much as you want, but I ask that you eat all that you take onto your plate. Please do not waste food. I would ask that you eat some vegetables, as well as meat, and then after all of that is finished you may eat desert. Please do not eat more than your empty bellies can hold right now. I will feed you again in about four hours. You will not go to bed hungry tonight."
    One skinny little boy, that looked to be no more than twelve or thirteen, spoke up, "Please sir, I have not had any meat in many months. May I do sex with you tonight so that I can have some?"
    I stumbled back as I tried to keep my balance. I went to my knees before the boy, "Tell him these exact words, Nikolay. You will never ever, ever have to have sex with anyone for food, clothing, a warm bed, or a hot bath. You are all students in my school and you have to do nothing to stay in my school except to study so that you can learn to be good men."
    I saw Afon and his brother trying to slip back around the corner. There was a police car sitting across the intersection from us. "Nikolay, call those policemen. Have those two detained. Two FI agents stepped from around the corner into the path of the two fleeing men. "Klementi Shablkov," I spoke into thin air. Some of the boys near me heard me and looked to see to whom I was speaking. In moments Klementi was on the phone. I asked him whom I should contact to have the two men brought up on charges.
    I asked Nikolay to lead the boys into the cafeteria, they refused to go until I would go with them. The two FI agents followed Afon and his brother back to my location. I did a double take as Harry removed his heavy fur cap and sunglasses."Need help, sir?" Talk about a friendly face in a crowd. Harry had heard it all. I had dispatch transfer Klementi to his phone as I stood and took two boys by the hand and led them inside. The smell of hot food made all of us feel better..
    The boys wanted to let me go first. I chose a large bowl and indicated a wide selection of familiar fresh vegetables to the server. She filled my bowl then passed it to me. I held up many different bottles of dressings and oils for Nikolay to tell me what was in them. When we hit upon apple cider vinegar and another bottle of virgin olive oil I knew we had a hit.
    I selected a medium sized baked potato and loaded it with all of the accompaniments that make a spud into a meal. I turned and looked at the boy inline behind me. I looked at his plate. I pushed him backwards as I waved the other boys to move backwards. I stopped the first boy in front of the meat counter and began to point. He licked his lips and his eyes widened. I simply said, 'Choose!' Nikolay laughed and repeated my command to the boy. He choose a chicken quarter and a thick slice of the roasted pork loin.
    I put my arm about him and dragged his tray to the next station and pointed at the mashed potatoes. His head became a bobble doll as the lady placed a spoonful of hot potatoes on his plate. I shook my head at her, she smiled at me and placed a larger spoonful on top of the first one. The boy then selected gravy to cover the meat and the potatoes.
    I stepped aside so that he could pass and I could see that every boy choose meat for his plate. Once the rhythm was established I picked up my tray and selected a large slice of chocolate cake. I stopped before something that smelled like coffee. I looked at Nikolay, he grinned at me. I picked up a tiny bowl shaped cup and put just a sip of the dark liquid into it. I turned up my nose and sat the cup down to laughter from all about the room.
    "Sir?" I turned to see Harry pouring a cup of coffee from a thermos bottle for me. I made a big show of throwing my arms wide and bowing low before him, then I took the cup with both hands and drank it. More laughter and much applause.
    The staff had circled tables and chairs for twenty five of us in the center of the dining room. I sat down and listened to the most beautiful music in all of the world, the sounds of happy boys. I looked at my watch then verified the time with Nikolay. I asked him about a boys' clothing department store. He told me that there was one about twenty minutes away, by bus. I had dispatch arrange a bus for all of us.


    The boys were perfect angles as we walked through the store picking out western style jeans, shirts, shoes, socks, underwear, and heavy coats for each of them. I outfitted each boy with four changes of clothes and two pairs of shoes, and a medium sized suitcase to carry it all, before we returned to our bus.
    The bus drove us directly to a medium level hotel. I asked the boys to line up in a double line and to be patient as we waited for the elevator to take us to the floor where our rooms were. It was not an especially fine hotel, but dispatch had been able to secure twelve rooms on one single floor for us on very short notice. The rooms were not spotless, but they were clean enough. It was more than the boys had ever experienced before, I could make do.
    While I awaited my turn to go upstairs I talked to the dispatcher. "Forgive my ignorance. What does Moscow have in the way of pizza?"
    "We have this thin crust of yeast bread that is smeared over with a spicy tomato sauce before a choice of meats and vegetables are placed on it then the whole thing is topped with shredded mozzarella cheese before being baked in a stone lined oven. I believe that they sell something like it in the United States?"
    "Smart ass."
    "And I am told that it is cute too."
    "Can you get me fifteen, fourteen inch pies delivered to this hotel in about an hour? Oh, what do boys like to drink with their pizza, do they drink sodas?" I ordered enough cold Coca Cola to float the Queen Marys, I and II, along with a selection of local pizza favorites. before my elevator car opened its doors. I quickly asked the dispatcher what time his shift ended and he told me that he would take care of the pizza then he was done. I invited him to join us at the hotel, I wanted to meet this voice from the airwaves. One can never tell from a voice, but he sounded hot.
    When I stepped from the elevator the boys were all in their rooms, but their doors were open so that they could watch the hall. I located my room and looked about for the bathroom. I found a water closet, literally. It was a simple closet with a porcelain pot sitting on a bench inside. Another porcelain wash pan with a matching pitcher sat on the dresser. I felt as if I was uptown. I stepped out and looked down the hall then spotted a door with a large blue square with the word туалет over the international symbol for male stuck to the center of it. I hoped that I had found the bathroom, I needed a hot shower.
    I walked down the hall as young eyes in young faces peered after me. I patted the cheeks of a few boys that stood in their doorway as I passed. I reached the door with the blue square on it then turned to face the boys. I used my right hand to point across my chest and at the door over my left shoulder. The boys were all nodding and speaking, I was sure that I had a couple of the boys say, "Yes," but that may have been my imagination.
    I opened the door and found the circular light switch and turned it to the on position. I jumped back and placed both hands to my face and said, "This is it." The boys were almost in tears as they laughed at me. I stepped inside as two of the boys followed me. I looked into a wide bathtub and wiggled my eyebrows at them. One of the boys turned on a water valve. I held my hand under the resulting trickle to find it barely warm. I was disappointed.
    The other boy stepped up on a small stool and opened a door under a Point Of Use water heater. He dug around in the pocket of his very dirty old pants and came up with a book of matches. He was adept at lighting the pilot light before closing the door and stepping down. He took a bow, I bowed to him. I looked at the tub and shook my head, they both looked at me. I used my finger to indicate water trickling over me from a shower. They giggled then opened a door with no bottom and no top.
    I looked inside. I put my arms about both boys and pulled them into the small shower area with me. We could get clean, and have a little fun at the same time. I made as if I were washing their backs, they turned so that I could wash one while the other washed me then they turned the other way. I gave them two thumbs up before stepping over to the tub to test the water temperature again. It was very hot.
    I led the boys out of the bathroom and ran to my room. I left my door open as I quickly disrobed to my underwear. I kept my back to the door and grabbed a towel from the top of the dresser then wrapped it about my waist. I let the boys standing at my door see my underwear fall to the floor before I kicked them from my feet and turned around. I picked up my toiletries' kit and headed for the hall. I looked about for my two guides, they were waiting with towels about their small waists.
    Once in the shower I made certain that all of their boy parts were clean. I did not play with them as I soaped every inch of their impressive young male hood. Once I had their hair and pits done I opened the door for them and pulled two more boys inside. I listened to happy boy banter as I worked my way through all twenty boys. I was so hard that I hurt, but I had not allowed the boys to touch me at all. I wanted too, very much I wanted too.
    I stepped from the small area and found a dozen hands wielding towels to dry my every part. I guided a few hands away from big daddy, but let them work around my other parts. Each boy took his turn and I was proud that none of them seemed to feel slighted or think that he should take more time. I had good feelings about the boys that I had met that afternoon. I believed in my mind that I had the foundation for a good school.
    I entered my room and pulled on a pair of sweat pants. The elevator doors opened and a cheer went up amongst the boys. "The pizza must have arrived," I thought. I turned to the door to see a wooly bear all dressed in black furs with a heavy fur cap, the kind that the ear flaps pull down, on his head. In his hands were ten large pizza's, behind him were two more men with pizzas and a hand dolly loaded with cases of soda.
    I reached for my billfold.: "It is paid for." I started to open my billfold. "Tip as well." I recognized the voice of the dispatcher. I bade him sit the pizzas on the bed then to remove his hat and coat. I walked to my door and wiggled my finger at the boys, they responded in a flash.
    In moments I had wall to wall boys wearing little or nothing. I wanted to fall back on the bed and cuddle in puddles of boi cream.
    Once the dispatcher's coat and hat came off I saw a very cute young and hung of about eighteen or nineteen. A boy came through my door then ran across to hug him. "Sorry, sir, this is my brother."
    "You're sorry that he is your brother? He is cute, you should be ashamed."
    "He is, he is the shame of the family." A liltish young boy's voice came from the mouth of the younger boy's face.     "My name is Grigoriy and this pain in the behind is Grisha."
    I rubbed my chin as I looked the young brothers over. "Humm, in America we would call you Greg."
    "What would you call me? Huh, huh?" I love kids
    "You would just be, Sheesh." I waved my open fingered hand from the wrist as I held it about chest high. Greg translated for the other boys and all of them took up the gesture as they repeated, 'Sheesh.' I told them that I could probably find names for them as well. Like boys everywhere they began to punch each other on the arm, but they never lost that bite of pizza on its way to their mouth.

    The sound of the elevator doors opening made every head turn to the door. Bryan peeked his head in before entering. He was followed by Mike and Pete. "The plane is secure, sir."
    I sprang from the bed and tackled him. We began to wrestle about the floor as I tickled all of the spots that I remember so well. "Call me sir again. Go ahead, call me sir." I tickled some more, he could not draw a breath.
    Harry walked in, "I have a complaint about loud noise from this room. I will have to ask you to be quiet or I will have to set you out on the street. Pete and I tackled him. That began a free for all that ended up with my bed soaked in Coke. Ah well, I will just have to sleep in with some of the boys.
    The boys stacked the furniture from the largest hotel room that we had and arranged wall to wall mattresses on the floor for all of us to sleep together. My internal time clock was still a mess so I was not sleepy. Grigoriy and Harry served as translators as all of sat together and talked all night. Their services were not needed very often. All of the boys spoke English. They needed help with some words, but I was impressed with their mastery of the language.
    The boys told how they received better food in exchange for simple sex acts. To spend the night taking care of all of the school master's needs got them a piece of fresh meat. I asked them what they ate if they didn't do as they were asked. One of the boys had not removed his undershirt the entire evening. All of the other boys began to talk to him. He cried until I held him. Harry was eye talking with me as he told me that the boy was scared that I would beat him. The other boys were telling him that they didn't think that I was that kind of a guy.
    Grisha spoke in French. "Il a peur. Afon battre la nuit dernière et il a peur que vous ferez les mêmes—He is scared. Afon beat him last night and he is afraid that you will do the same."
    I tensed. The boy in my arms felt it and tried to pull away. I grabbed his chin and kissed him on the end of the nose. "Nobody will ever beat you when I am around. I will kill anyone that hurts any of you boys, ever."     I turned to Bryan and asked him if he would tell the boys his story. He scooted closer to me and placed his arms around the boy in my lap. As he talked the boys looked over Bry's body for scars. One has to look very closely to see the healed stripes on his butt. The men that had been with Bry did not want to damage his beauty, they only hit him on his pretty little bubble butt. I made everyone laugh as I ran my fingers over the scars then kissed each one. I told the other that I was kissing them to make them well. Bryan told them that I kissed his wounds when he first came to live with me and that now they are almost gone.
    The boy in my lap leaned in and kissed me on the lips. He whispered to me that his name is Adin then he pulled at the bottom his undergarment and drew it over his head—all of the boys let out a gasp. Adin's back was raw. He had deep cuts from his shoulders to his waist. I was almost afraid of hurting the boy. I pulled him to me and kissed him, long and deep. I asked Harry if he could find us a first aid kit with some soothing salves in it. He radioed the dispatcher and asked for a kit to be delivered to us.     Adin wrapped his arms about me and shoved his tongue into my mouth. He is fifteen and the only son of a war hero that lives in a small village two hundred miles east of Moscow. When his father had caught him with an older man in the village hell came down on him. His father dragged the naked man to the center square and proceeded to torture him to death. The man was penetrated with an axe handle shoved over a foot and a half up his ass.
    Other fathers in the village beat the man and someone emasculated him. He bled out during the torture that didn't stop until it grew so dark that no one could see exactly whom they were hitting in their frenzy. Adin was taken home and beaten severely then locked into the barn with no one to dress his wounds and no food. He was very hungry. His hunger won out over his pain. Being a resourceful boy he took an old metal can and filled it half full with the oats meant to feed the horses. He added water then sat the can on top of the oil filled lantern hanging by the barn door.
    He was talking directly to me, the rest of the boys were just there. He told me that his last meal at home will forever be the most memorable of his life. He said that with every bite he remembered the hate that his father had always displayed for him. Adin had only learned in the last few months at home that he was the surviving half of twin boys. He had gone with a friend to the local cemetery so that his friend could place birthday flowers on his mother's grave.
    Wanting to give his friend some space he walked around looking at the gravestones when he found a tomb with a name that he had often heard in his own home. "Bet you wish that was you. Your father won't ever let you forget what you done to that boy will he?" an old lady standing over a nearby grave told him. Adin had no idea what the old lady was talking about so he questioned her. The haunting tale that he heard made him wish that he had never seen the old witch.
    He didn't want to believe that he had killed his twin at the age of fifteen months. He waited until his father passed out after his evening of heavy drinking. His mother over talked after a few drinks so he curled up at her feet as she sat in an old rocking chair in front of the fireplace. He asked indirect questions which she readily answered.
    His mother told him that he had always been a rotten kid. The family was in the woods gathering herbs and mushrooms, the babies were laying on a large, flat rock taking a nap. Adin awakened and started to cry. When no one came to him he began to throw a tantrum. His thrashing around knocked his brother off of the rocks. 'The baby brother's skull cracked open and his brains poured out all over the forest floor,' according to the story that his drunken mother told him.
    For the first time in his life he understood why his parents treated him so coldly. I tried to tell him that he might have imagined more maltreatment after learning of the circumstances surrounding his brother's death. He told me that once he learned the truth of his life he wanted to get away from his family forever.

    When everything grew quiet in the house Adin moved aside a loose board in the back of the barn that he knew about. He went to the clothesline where his mother had hung the wash earlier that day and put on three pair of clean jeans and four heavy shirts. He put on three pairs of socks, he tried to wear four pair, but he learned that he couldn't get his feet into his boots. He stuffed his pockets with socks and underwear then looked about for food to sustain him on the road.
    He snuck into the house and took two loaves of dark bread. He took a half a dozen potatoes from the bin and then he took a few ears of corn from the feed silo. He looked around to see what else he could carry in the small blanket that he had taken from the clothesline. His eye fell on the smoked hams hanging in the shed. He found a half ham that would be easy to carry and added it to his larder. About two hours after midnight he set his feet away from the only home that he had ever known. He was determined that he would never return.
    A week later found him on the streets of Moscow. The shock of big city life frightened him as he tried to find shelter and food. He struggled to avoid roaming street gangs until he found a boy about his age that was street wise. The two boys made their way through life for six months, until the cold of winter moved in. A police officer that had befriended the boys for the return of sexual favors told them about the new school. The boys found their way to the school and became students.
    Both boys were fare to look upon, but the new friend was a true beauty of a boy. His beauty did not escape the attention of Afon's fat brother. Adin didn't see much of his friend after that. Two weeks later he learned that his friend was dead—all of the boys told me that черт человека—devil man—killed many boys after he slept with them. I asked them why they called him devil man. All of them said that he had the look of a devil in his eyes and that he scared the devil out of them.
    I guided them off of the subject and asked them of their hopes and dreams for their future. Like boys the world over, they wanted to learn all that they could so that they could fight injustice. They wanted a good job with lots of money and all of them talked of someday having a family so that they could raise their children in a loving household. That made me feel good all under. Adin saw the goose flesh on my arms and pointed it out to the others. Bry told them that I got that way when boys talked about growing up to be outstanding men Nobody got any real sleep that night except Harry and Pete. They had both had a full day and they had to rest for the day ahead of them.

    Nikolay was waiting at the bus when the boys and I exited the hotel to head to breakfast. I greeted him and told him that Greg was taking us to a restaurant for an American breakfast. Nikolay and Greg talked to one another while I tried to get twenty feisty boys onto the bus. Harry walked up behind the boys and in a deep voice he spoke a single word in Russian. The boys jumped and quickly mounted the steps into the bus. They all sat in their seats with a solemn look on their faces. I asked Harry what he said and he just smiled at me.
    I asked Nikolay to sit next to me. I wanted to learn more about the man. Nikolay is known as the founder and chief organizer of Moscow Pride . I had seen the headlines when he was arrested during the march on May 27, of 2006. I have a few pictures of his arrest during that march. Born on December 23, 1977 in Moscow Nikolay is a Russian LGBT rights activist, lawyer and journalist. I wanted to know more about the man before I allowed him to be around my boys. Yeah, they were already my boys. Whom better could I ask but a journalist that was active in the cause of gay rights?
    The powers that be in Moscow had sent boys to Afon. I learned that Afon was a notorious pedofile. His brother had just been released from prison for sex with two young boys. Both men had escaped detection for their perversions until after the decriminalization of homosexuality in 1993. Prior to that time homosexuals were subject to death for their decadence. Though society looks upon homosexuals with distaste, it is no longer a criminal offense—except when kids or force are involved. I had learned much about the pair from the boys that I spent the night before with.
    A large black taxi cut close to the front of the bus and stopped against the curb. A man shuffling two suitcases got out and reached through the cab's window to pay the driver. When he stood up I recognized a familiar face. Klementi Shablkov is the headmaster of the school in St. Petersburg, Russia.
    Klementi is a 'can do' type of man and he proved it by refurbishing an old palace, making it into a building that was opulent as well as functional for a school. I had called him to Moscow to see if he could help me find a suitable building for the boys there.
    Our driver took us to a section that had a large population of American diplomats and business men. Harry told me that old fashioned home cooking, American style, was the fare of two of the most popular restaurants in the area. He pointed out a chain restaurant that is popular in the states for its open fire grilled steaks. It was too early for that restaurant to be open.
    Our bus driver parked near the doors to a nice looking establishment that had signs in English. I began to laugh when I saw the familiar neon sign in the shape of a cup of steaming coffee. In pink neon lights the sign proclaimed 'the world's best cup of coffee.' I was pleased. The coffee was quite good.
    I sat amongst the boys and described the various menu choices. Most of them ordered pancakes with a slice of ham. Some ordered eggs and hash browns with bacon and toast. All of them had to try a cup of American coffee. I ordered milk for them as well. I ordered hot biscuits with a side of sausage gravy. I buttered a biscuit and sat back to munch on it as I finished my first cuppa.
    I treated our bus driver to breakfast with us. I figured that he may know of a place that would suit the needs for a school. I brain stormed with the driver, Nikolay and Klementi. The three men all seemed to have one particular building in mind. I needed something for the boys to do for a few hours so that I could do a personal inspection of prospective sites.
    I looked at the boys as they monkeyed around and decided to let them visit their most ancient relatives, monkeys at the zoo. The Московкий зоопарк—Moscow Zoo—was opened in 1864. It was the perfect spot for entertaining the boys. I handed Harry a stack of cash. He looked at me and told me that his place was at my side. I gave Pete and Bryan about five hundred dollars in Russian currency and wished them well.
    Grigoriy had the Werwolf sitting at the curb behind the bus. I had Klementi load his luggage into the trunk of the limousine then we watched the bus full of boys pull away from the curb. Two FI vehicles fell in behind the bus. I knew that the boys would be well protected. It was on our drive to our first site that Grigoriy told me that there were four heavily armed men in each of the security vehicles. From what the boys had told me the night before I worried more about gay bashers than anything else.
    I had taken the seat behind Grigoriy for a purpose. I could use his rearview mirror to see what was behind our car. There was a black sedan that followed us very closely. Behind that was an FIS SUV. I felt as safe as a roach in a roach motel.

    Grigoriy pulled the Werwolf into a large circular driveway in the front of a huge building. The building had seen better days in long years past. What I saw was a monument to another era. On exiting the car I looked up at the five story building that spaned a full city block. I stepped back to confirm what my eyes told me had once been there. The scars on the wall over the front entrance told me that at one time there had been a large covering over the driveway. I looked toward the street and located three places that could have held support columns.
    Another look at the entryway showed me that it had been narrowed down to a single double door. From the size of the reconstruction I imagined a much larger entry way, maybe two or more double door arrangements. We passed through the current door and stood in a very large lobby. The domed ceiling was more than fifty feet above our heads. Walkways with open balusters of carved marble ran along three sides of the lobby about twenty feet above the lobby floor. Another walkway was fifteen feet above that one.
    The upper walls of the large lobby were adorned with elaborate carvings and decorations of a bygone time of opulence. The lower walls, about fifteen feet up from the floor, were covered with panels of cheap wood and covered with many coats of peeling paint.
    Nikolay directed us to one side of the room where a panel of wood had been removed then laid back over the wall behind it. Grigoriy assisted him in moving the loose panel to one side. Behind the panel was a huge marble counter. At last the truth of what I had suspected was within my field of vision. We were in the lobby of a, once very posh, hotel. Nikolay placed his satchel on the ancient counter and withdrew a stack of pictures.
    The pictures, copies of much older pictures, showed a grand hotel with carriages underneath a fully covered entry way. Other scenes showed the hotel from several different angles shot from the street. Very carefully Nikolay unrolled a larger picture and laid it flat on the counter top with an old inkwell and two books to hold the corners down. The unrolled picture was an aerial shot of the hotel taken from an altitude of about five hundred feet.
    The shot encompassed the surrounding area. The streets were filled with horse drawn carriages and wagons transporting goods. There were a few automobiles in the parking area of the hotel. From the altitude people in the shot were small. They appeared to be dressed in the latest fashions of the late nineteenth century. The hotel itself was a square with equal length sides. The middle of the hotel was open. I bent over and looked closely at the tree filled opening and spotted the edge of a swimming pool. Behind a group of trees to one end I was able to make out the tongue of a diving board that had to be at least three meters tall. I wanted to go see.
    Nikolay asked me to look at his other pictures first then we would have an idea of what we were looking at when we toured the building. The pictures were used in travel brochures to promote the hotel. They showed large, well appointed rooms, each with its own private bath. Some rooms faced the street while the more expensive rooms faced the central gardens and pool area. Some of the rooms had balconies with a table and chairs set upon them.
    The shots of the garden were spectacular for such a northern climate. The pool was very large, at least of Olympic size, with three diving boards, the tallest being the three meter board that I had spotted in the aerial view of the hotel. Like most shots meant for brochures the scenes showed people in their swim wear lounging about the pool. I know the boys would have a good laugh at the styles of swim wear and tennis wear that were portrayed. The overall effect of the picture graph was to represent the hotel in all of its might, they did that well.
    Other shots showed the wide hallways with people moving freely along. There were scenes of two very posh dining rooms with uniformed wait staff serving tables filled with smiling people. Pictures of the food carts showed large roasted meats and birds. Waiters were seen carving portions and placing them on individual plates. One shot had a waiter serving a bowl of borscht—Hot Borscht is almost always made with a broth made of heavy starchy vegetables including potatoes and beets, but may also contain carrots, spinach, and meat. It may be eaten as a meal in itself, but is usually eaten as an appetizer with thick dark bread. All in all the pictures told a great story. What Nikolay told us next gave me hope that I could purchase the old hotel and convert it into a school in downtown Moscow.
    The hotel was considered to be pretentious by the Bolshevik revolutionists in October of 1917. The lobby was set afire, but cooler heads prevailed and put the fire out before severe damage could occur. The building was seen as a good place for the revolutionists to use as a headquarters. Later the communist regime used the one thousand room hotel as office space. The large ball room was converted into a gymnasium for the peoples workers to keep themselves in a healthy shape. The pool was filled in and converted into tennis courts for the recreation needs of a healthy life.
    I was like a little kid. I wanted to go see. The others laughed at me as I ran from room to room in my eagerness to see what would need to be done to make the building into a safe home for my boys. The guest rooms were large enough for two large beds complete with desk and storage space. The individual bathrooms had been gutted of the marble tubs and ornate fixtures. They had been replaced with more utilitarian toilets and lavatories while the large tub area became an area for filing cabinets.
    The stairway to the fifth floor had been closed off with sheets of wood. The panels had been removed then laid back over the opening, like the panel in front of the desk in the main lobby. Grigoriy and Harry set the loose panel aside and we continued upwards. The fifth floor was a veritable treasure trove. The removed fixtures from the other rooms were stacked in rooms on the fifth floor. Fixtures that may have been part of the main desk were found. Antique furnishings from beds, dressers, and chairs were stacked into some of the rooms. In my mind I could see Ģer polishing each piece with tears in his eyes. I wonder how much Russian antiques would be worth.
    I looked from the balcony in one of the rooms. The courtyard below had been denuded of its tall trees. The concrete slab of a tennis court lay in stark contrast to the playground for the wealthy that was seen in the pictures proffered by Nikolay. My next mission was to check out the structural soundness of the building. I wondered if there was an active insect life inside the walls. Were termites eating away at the wooden frame?
    Nikolay was standing before the open door of an elevator when we stepped back into the hallway. Those with me groaned, they had to climb five flights of stairs to follow me on my discovery tour. I wondered if the large elevator had been updated over the years.
    When the doors of the elevator opened we were met by ФСБ—FSB— operatives Petrovich Jaquenov and Oleg Klusov. I had first met them after an attempt on my life at Cullen's castle after his coronation. We had met to see who was hanging around the lair of Athos at Forét des six-fours . Later they had met the private 777 owned by Boris Putin when we landed at St. Petersburg.
    Without any confirmation I knew that they had been instrumental in securing the building that was now used as a school in St. Petersburg. The old palace had been built by none other than Czar Peter, the great. The palace had been used for many purposes since that golden time in Russia's history and it had fallen into a severe state of disrepair. I knew that if Klementi could turn that derelict building into a showplace in one year then there was hope for the hotel where we stood.

    A door from the dining room opened as Toby and Raven entered the lobby. They were dressed in the flowing robes typical of Raven's kingdom. Toby hurriedly walked up to Harry. They threw their arms about each other and closed into a fond embrace.

    Oleg passed me a file folder. I opened it to find official looking forms. Nikolay pointed to first one file then another as he told me that they were inspection reports for the building. One set of forms was from a roofing inspector. He noted damage to the roof in one of the larger outbuildings used to house grounds keeping equipment. Another form was from a structural engineer. He gave the building a clean bill of health. His notes included termite inspections as well as an in depth inspection of the building's plumbing.
5000 Rubles
    The hotel was offered for a sale price of ргб 60 million (rubles). At the current rate of exchange of 29.8 rubles to the dollar that would be almost two million dollars. I have money, mostly gold, in major banks all around the world. I would have one hundred and eighty eight pounds—about three and a half million dollars, at the then rate of exchange—of the hard metal currency moved into an account from which I could more easily access it. I called home to talk to Turner. Warren answered, Turner and Adam were in the hot tub taking periscope shots. I told Warren what I needed to have done, he told me that he would get things ready for Turner to enter his password, just as soon as the final missile launch was finished.
    I asked Nikolay to get me in touch with the real estate agent handling the property. He looked at Oleg and Petrovich. Petrovich opened his satchel and placed very official looking documents on the table. The only thing that I could make out on the papers was my name and the name of the fŗĩęñďş Çłųß. I needed someone that I knew and trusted to read the documents to me. Toby looked up into Harry's eyes, "Help him," was all that he said.
    Harry and Toby led me to a sofa behind the lobby counter. Harry opened a thermos of coffee and poured me a cup of my thinking fluid. Raven pulled an easy chair up to sit close to us. "Is that your throne for the moment, your highness?"
    He reached beneath his robes and withdrew a dagger with a curved blade of about eight inches long. "Shall I pass a royal command and cut off your head?"
    "Only if it is my big head. If you cut off my little head then I can't think properly and will die of horniness." My tensions relaxed, it was time to get serious. Harry did a remarkable job of reading the sales contract for me. Raven stepped in to assist Harry on some of the passages. Languages have subtle differences in their word construction. I had to really listen when Raven tried to explain to an illiterate English only speaker the nuances of Русско—Russian—language.
    I looked at Petrovich as Harry read on. The man was authorized to sell to me alone. He would be able to conduct the complete sale, all the way down to accepting payment. I thought that a bit strange, but when in Moscow…Grigoriy took us to the bank where I purchased a cashier's check in the amount of fifty nine million and eight hundred thousand rubles to complete the transaction. Another surprise came to light as Petrovich passed me the clear deed to the hotel property. I now owned the fine building that would have the largest capacity of all for a new school. Boys would come next.

So there you have it. Is your friction enhanced by my fiction?
Tell me about it at fisherman@iname.com
PREVIOUS<    HOME    NEXT

50% of all donations go to NIFTY
to support their fine work.