My Father the Czar Copyright 1998 Library of Congress number: 98-96138 by AUTHOR22@aol.com All rights reserved Chapter Fourteen On the outskirts of St. Petersburg, not far from where the village of the gypsies had been, there was an establishment that was peculiarly Russian. It was not a restaurant although it served the best food in the capital. It was not a bar although its alcohol consumption was substantial. It was not a club because anyone who wished to partake of the peculiar atmosphere of "The Embers" could do so by simply stepping inside its doors and being prepared to pay the bill at the end of the evening. The ambience of the establishment was not attained through the use of decor, nor through musical atmosphere, nor even by the particular 'gifts' of the proprietor himself. Physically there was nothing particularly unique about the building. The spaces occupied by Iveren's guests were pleasant. One room, the largest, was equipped with tables at which customers could relax, enjoy the best of cuisine and the best of drink within the warmth and glow of a round fireplace located in the center of the room. The other room could best be described as a bar, although there was no 'bar' in evidence. The most distinguishing feature of this smaller room was that its tables were smaller. There was a small baby grand piano and, unlike the larger room, this one had a balcony or mezzanine. The Embers had developed its reputation by being a place where one could express the depth of one's emotions and exhibit as unique a personality as one might choose, without fear of chastisement. The particular ambience to be found at The Embers was an ever-changing, almost 'organic' condition which resulted from the particular combination of unique guests gathered there at any given time; ...that was what made it peculiarly Russian. Iveren, the proprietor, was a portly man who allowed his guests to transform his establishment into whatever suited them at the moment. He oversaw his guests as though they were a brood of adolescent chickens and he, the mother hen intent on seeing to the needs of her hatchlings. The clientele were from all walks of life; politicians, musicians, peasants and radicals. If Stravinsky or Nijinsky were in St. Petersburg, The Embers would be where they could be found. The most significant adjective which could be applied to The Embers would be the word: "Alive". Another most peculiar occurrence, which had become a tradition, was that any guest who seated himself in the large room would be handed a large menu; a menu so large that its reader could not see the others at his table. Each menu was also voluminous with descriptions that whetted the appetite making selection almost impossible; the variety was just too great and each description, just too tantalizing. After the guests had spent a good deal of time debating what would be the most suitable feast for this evening's meal, Iveren would stand beside the host of the group at that table and utter the following phrase: "I don't know why you bother to read that, this is what we are serving today." He would then present, in depth, his suggested culinary masterpieces. Another unique thing about Iveren was that he was also a talented violinist. It was rumored that he had been kidnapped by a band of gypsies when a baby, and that it was from them that he had inherited his many talents. This establishment not only tolerated the unorthodox, it seemed to encourage that behavior; thus, one should not be surprised to see among the guests, a lady so outrageously dressed in high fashion that only the most naive would fail to realize that 'she' was indeed a man. Neither was it unusual to note among the guests persons whose youthful and hairless faces did not match their years and whose tuxedos revealed busoms which could not be strapped down entirely. Despite the 'bizarre' surroundings, from the moment a guest stepped through the portals of The Embers, he felt comfortable and secure in a lively atmosphere into which he was instantly immersed and ensnared. + + + + + + OCTOBER 1914 Alexander Palace St. Petersburg Russia by Alex-P + + + + + + August, September and October were three months of such extraordinary activity that they were, and still are, a blur. We had returned abruptly and prematurely from our weekend at the nudist camp in Gdov because Uncle Gregori felt compelled to council the Czar. The only two constants during the past three months were: 1. the continual demands upon the Czar's time; and 2. Alex-T and I reminiscing about 'what might have been' at Camp Sunshine. For three months we both had been awakening with boners and for three months we blamed it on what we had missed sharing with Yars. On more than one occasion I had asked Uncle Gregori if we might return to Gdov. His only response was a somewhat lustful leer, saying: "Willpower Little One, willpower." On the international scene, it seemed as though the entire world had been consumed by conflict. The fact that six teenagers could disrupt the world to this extent struck me as being beyond reason. Even President Wilson of the United States had sent an emissary to talk with the Czar. Austria and Hungary had declared war on Serbia and on us. The French invaded the tiny province of Alsace. English soldiers were in Ostend, Calais and Dunkirk. Okrahana's reports, which were never published in the newspapers, kept us informed as to our progress on the battle field. These reports were not good. For nearly a week Uncle Gregori had tried to see the Czar but had failed. Our classes had resumed; but, now all of our tutors seemed constantly distracted and ill at ease. Alex-T and myself, as Catherine, were listening to Uncle Gregori hold- forth on the subject of 'objectivisim' when one of the servants brought him a note. It was from Prince Yusupov. The startled look on Gregori's face piqued our curiosity. He muttered something about wondering 'what that faggot wanted'. He had not seen, nor heard anything from Prince Yusupov since that church hearing when Mytia had tried to yank his chlen off. Seeing that we were curious, and realizing that we had heard his mutterings, he said: "This will be a good example of 'being objective'. Regardless of personal feelings, we will do our best to benefit from this opportunity. Prince Yusupov has invited me to dine with him at The Embers next Saturday night. I will accept, but I will take you with me, Catherine, so that you may observe." Alex-T protested at being left out. Rasputin admonished him, "Your mother would never allow you to meet with Yusupov. Never mind that he married your cousin, no one can ignore his preference for women's clothing." I turned red in the face; embarrassed to the core. After all, I was a fourteen year old boy sitting in this classroom dressed as a girl. "You play the part of a girl, not by choice, but for a good reason. Yusupov wants to be a woman." Alex-T snickered, "What do you think Yusupov wants? --I mean besides sucking on your chlen." Gregori's face first turned pink, then red, but before it went to purple he got control of himself. "I don't know. But if he's willing to pay a high enough price, he could suck on it all night." Alex-T countered, "And how many rubles must he pay?" "My price would not be in rubles, my Tsarevich. I would have to gain much before I would allow that indignity." "Does that mean," I asked, "...that if the Prince commanded enemy troops and he would give them over to you in exchange for a night in your bed, you would do so?" Without as much as a second's hesitation, he replied: "Of course. Many lives would be saved and I would fantasize that the lips around my chlen were those of his wife... not his." By the next day, the Tsarevich and I had almost forgotten the dinner invitation at The Embers. Tatiana had been rather long-faced; she was pinning away for Piotr but he was fully occupied in his first semester of studies at the academy. The Standart was still where we had left her in the Black Sea, so an informal luncheon aboard the Imperial Yacht was not an option. + + + + + Almost in desperation, Tatiana took pen in hand and wrote a lengthy note on paper which bore the Imperial double eagle. She opened her heart and allowed her emotions to color her thoughts. She closed the letter with an invitation that they should meet for dinner on Saturday night at The Embers. + + + + + In the offices of CNOP + + + + + Mail distribution for the Admiralty was handled within the naval base itself. Standing orders were that any mail from the Imperial Family was to be routed through the Chief of Naval Operations. For that reason, Tatiana's passionate love letter to Cadet Piotr Veliky ended up on the desk of Adrian, the secretary to CNOP and Captain Sergey Ivanov, assistant to the Chief of Naval Operations. Adrian had been unsuccessful in his intended seduction of the new cadet, so the letter from the Grand Duchess Tatiana Romanov piqued his curiosity beyond temptation. Fortunately for Adrian, the Grand Duchess, amid her excited anticipa- tion, had failed to use her cipher and sealing wax to close her let- ter; thus, opening it undetectedly required merely the holding of it above the spout of a steaming samovar. After examining the contents, he took a pen and underlined "The Embers". Adrian knew the place, it was a hot bed of deviant behavior. Its owner had once been "a friend". Adrian knew the place; Its owner had once been "a friend" and, what's more, The Embers was a hot bed of deviant behavior. He would be willing to wager heavily that Piotr would become greatly enticed by the Grand Duchess, but would end the evening with aching testicles; in other words --he wouldn't get any. If that were to be the case, there might be a way that he, Adrian, could then entice the boy into his quarters. With this delicious possibility in mind, Adrien's devious nature took over; by his crossing out just one word, Tatiana's request became a command. He then placed the letter in the out-going mail basket and telephoned his friend Iveren. His request was a simple one: The Embers should reserve a discrete table, away from prying eyes, and a second table from which one could surreptitiously view the Grand Duchess and her lover. Adrien's final step was to attach to the Grand Duchess' letter a note written on CNOP stationary which read: "In order that harmony may be maintained between the Imperial Family and the naval forces, the Chief of Naval Operations has reserved a table for you at The Embers. A car will pick you up at your quarters on Saturday night at seventeen- thirty hours. This office is notifying the Imperial Family of your acceptance." + + + + + Saturday Morning + + + + + Alex-T had crawled through the secret entrance between his and Alex- P's bedrooms in the early hours of the morning and cuddled up to the sleeping boy. Their morning ritual had been resumed immediately upon returning from Yalta. Their sleeping together was really more a matter of friendship than one of sexuality; although Sex frequently raised its demanding head as the two boys woke and noted eachother's early morning piss-hardon. This Saturday morning was to be the exception. Uncle Gregori was expected to arrive for Breakfast with the Imperial Family; he and Catherine were to spend the weekend at his St. Petersburg apartment. The servants' wing was immediately adjacent to Alex-P/Catherine's bedroom, so the two boys were awakened by the activities that began the day. Alex-T had put a pillow over his head to block out the sounds. Alex-P shook him by the shoulder, "You'd better go back to your own bed. I still need to pick out the dress I will wear tonight and Uncle Gregori is sure to be pounding at my door within a few minutes." The Tsarevich responded: "I don't see why I can't go as Catherine and you can stay home and keep my sisters company." "Gregori would not allow it. Besides, you must have told me a hundred times that you dislike your cousin Prince Yusupov." Alex-T had then returned to his room and Alex-P had just moved the wardrobe back to its normal position and put the pin in place when he heard a tap on his door. "Who is it?" Anastasia's child-like voice penetrated the door. "Can I come in? Breakfast hasn't started yet." "In just a few minutes. I need to decide on a dress to wear tonight." "I could help you choose. I particularly like the short green one, the one with the white trim." Alex-P had finally gotten his Chlen to go down and was adjusting the hair piece, making certain it was not askew and looked natural. Satisfied, he opened the door and let the little girl in. "You look funny in your night shirt. It's all wrinkled." "Well, what do you expect this early in the morning? But, as for the green dress... I don't think so. Uncle Gregori and I are dining out, so I should wear something more formal." "Good heavens Catherine, it's not like you are grown up or anything." She paused for a moment while fingering the dresses in the wardrobe. "...But you are probably right. Even Maria and Tatiana are always trying to look four or five years older than they are." "Has he arrived yet?" Catherine asked. In response to Anastasia's questioning look, she added: "...Uncle Gregori. Has he arrived yet?" "No. But the table is already set." "Well then you go ahead. I need to change out of my night shirt and into my traveling clothes." "Why are you the only one of us who refuses to change when anyone else is present? Come to think of it, I don't think I have ever seen you naked." "And you never will! Now then... off with you! I'll be there in just a moment or two." It was closer to half-an-hour when Catherine entered the family dinning room. Uncle Gregori was seated and already eating a slice of toast. The Czarina was at the Winter Palace with her husband. Tatiana had already grabbed a snack and would not be joining them, so breakfast was served to Alex-T, Catherine and Anastasia. Maria and Olga had remained in bed. It was too early to get up on a Saturday morning. The presence of Anastasia stultified the conversation. Alex-T would have liked to continue his arguments as to why he should go with Uncle Gregori, leaving Alex-P as the Tsarevich. However, Gregori made little reference to the evening's activities and, as soon as Catherine had finished her breakfast, they left for town. It wasn't until later that Alex-T and his sister Tatiana began to talk about the coming weekend. Not until then did he know about her date with Piotr. + + + + + The Russian Naval Academy was an interesting institution, somewhere between a school for the sons of the nobility and a country club. The vast majority of its students did not earn their rank; it was conferred upon them by virtue of their family's nobility, --to that degree its students were snobs. Veliky was an unusual case: however, there were factors which eased his acceptance and improved his reputation within the student body. First, it was well known that he enjoyed the friendship of the Imperial Family and that his father was somehow associated with the Imperial Hunting Lodge in Poland; secondly, he did not flaunt his relationship with the Grand Duchess or the Tsarevich. At precisely five o'clock in the afternoon, Adrian walked into the garage of the motor pool of the naval base. The man in charge had asked favors of the secretary to the Chief of Naval Operations and now it was --payback time. Under other circumstances the Admiral's car would not have been available; however, the fact that it was being used to transport the Czar's daughter made the allocation defensible should it be found out. Adrian, dressed in his best white uniform, parked alongside the cadet barracks that housed Piotr. Quickly he found his way into the lounge where he spotted his passenger. He waved at the cadet from a distance, turned and headed back toward the car. Piotr caught up with him as he reached the door. Adrian walked around to the driver's door and motioned Piotr to sit up front with him. At the main gate of the naval base a guard handed him a form which recorded the purpose and destination of the offical vehicle's useage. He wrote "Alexander Palace" in the space for 'first destination' then, in the passenger space, he wrote "Grand Duchess Tatiana Romanov". In the next 'destination' space he scribbled two words; the first was illegible, the second was "restaurant." The guard quickly scanned the sheet and passed the car through. "This is the Admiral's car isn't it?" Piotr asked. "Sure is. I just hope you realize how far out on a limb I went for you. If you get laid tonight you can thank me for it." Piotr turned toward Adrian and asked: "Just exactly what did you do? --and why?" Adrian made a clean breast of it; told Piotr that it was he who had sponsored this event in the name of the Admiral. He went on to explain that the restauranteur was a friend of his and that there would be no check presented to Piotr for the evening's festivities. During most of the trip to Tsarskoe Selo, Adrian steered the conversation to sexual episodes, guiding and prompting the cadet to brag about his exploits ashore in Hamburg and Lisbon. Whenever Piotr alluded to a conquest, Adrian prompted him to go into great detail. Before the car had left the outskirts of the city, Piotr's chlen was tenting his trousers. They were stopped at the palace gates. The guards expected to see either an admiral's flag on the front fenders or the Imperial Double Eagle. Adrian rolled down the window and passed his trip sheet to the guard. The man looked at the sheet and started toward the guard shack. He turned back and looked at the passenger. He recognized Piotr as being the seaman whom a guard captain had once mistreated and thus was summarily transferred to Siberia. Awkwardly the soldier saluted the cadet and passed the limousine through. Then, as an after thought, he telephoned the palace. The car swept around the driveway and stopped at the entrance to the Imperial Family quarters. Tatiana was standing at the bottom of the steps. Piotr jumped out of the car, opened the rear door, helped his date into the back seat and then slid in beside her. The words the girl had written in her letter moved her more than they had Piotr. As soon as the door closed she threw herself into his arms and kissed him more passionately than she had ever done before. Adrian's eyes were glued to the rear view mirror. He was silently saying to himself. "Keep it going Tatiana, you do the work and I'll reap the rewards." In the back seat the two lovers had eyes only for each other. The girl kissed Piotr with all of the built-up passion that reading romance novels had taught her. Her right hand rested on his knee, then began moving slowly upward. Each gentle movement was warmer to her touch and she found 'life' there. She could feel the pulsations, each of which drew her fingers higher until they touched the center of his manhood. Almost as though hypnotized, her hand grasped the shaft causing it to pulse wildly. Then Piotr's tongue mimicked 'the dance of love' while envisioning themselves bedded nakedly in a soft, billowy cloud. Quite suddenly, Adrian turned the car rapidly to the left, intentionally throwing Piotr on top of Tatiana. This abrupt movement produced a shock which brought the two would-be lovers out of their fantasy and allowed some semblance of rationality to return. Tatiana suddenly realized that she had gone too far. She didn't know how far she could go with Piotr, but she knew that she had been on the verge of loosing her own self control. The two were straightening their clothing as the limousine pulled up in front of the restaurant. Adrian quickly stepped out of the car and opened the rear door. A doorman, dressed in a red military uniform trimmed with gold braid, stepped forward and led the couple through the main entrance. Iveren greeted his guests with all of the pomp and ceremony which was due a member of the Imperial family, then led them to a quiet corner in the small room. A waiter immediately joined them, handing each of them one of the large menus. Iveren returned to the entry foyer and escorted Adrian up the stairs to the balcony where he was seated at a table from which he had a clear view of Piotr and Tatiana. The lighting on the balcony was almost non-existent. "You will not be seen here, even if they are looking directly at you." "Thank you Iveren." "So tell me, why all of these special arrangements and who is that beautiful boy?" Adrian smirked and added, "The Grand Duchess is the bait, I am the fisherman and the sailor will be my catch." The host reached down and rubbed his hand up Adrian's leg, squeezing his penis. "Ahhh... and maybe we can enjoy ourselves as well?" Activity at the entrance interrupted this tete-a-tete and Iveren hurried away to greet new guests. Half-an-hour later Gregori Rasputin and Catherine arrived. Iveren did not recognize Rasputin. Without his usual long hair and beard, he no longer looked like the pictures and caricatures which had appeared in the newspapers. "We are Prince Yusupov's dinner guests. Has he arrived yet.?" Iveren looked at his reservation book just in case someone else had taken the reservation. "No sir. --and I do not have a table reserved in his name. He comes here frequently. Are you certain that it was to be for tonight?" There was the fire of anger in Rasputin's dark eyes, which stopped Iveren in his tracks. "I beg your pardon sir. You said... 'for Dinner'?" Rasputin nodded condescendidly. Ivern continued, "Very well, I have a suitable table in the dinning room, please step this way." He led them into the large room. "Do you know if the Prince will have other guests?" Rasputin shook his head and replied: "I doubt it. ...And would you please bring us a bottle of Madeira?" A waiter bowed and disappeared for a few minutes then reappeared carrying a silver tray with two glasses and a brown bottle. He placed a glass before each of his customers, handed the bottle to Rasputin, who nodded, then proceeded through the remainder of the ritual of serving the wine. Alex-P sipped at his glass with the delicacy of a young lady, kind of squeezed his nose and said: "I don't think this is as good as the Madeira they serve at Tsarskoe Selo." Rasputin, who was already half way through his second glass, stopped in the middle of his gulp, swished the fluid around in his mouth, and said: "You are right of course, but then The Embers is not the Alexander Palace." He then swallowed, put the glass back to his lips and drained it. They were into their second bottle of Madeira when Prince Yusupov arrived. Alex-P/Catherine had to use all of his willpower to keep from laughing out loud. The prince's trousers were black and as tight as a pair of ballet leotards. His jacket was beaded and as colorful as might be seen in a troop of dancing gypsies; its design was almost triangular and distinctively oriental. To enhance that image, the black hat which he wore was also triangular with little black balls hanging from the very ends. The image he created suggested a jester from King Arthur's court. "Oh! I am so glad you have started without me. My new driver got lost... the silly thing had never been to the fabulous Embers." He paused in his gushing, spun on his heels, raised his voice and screeched, "Iveren take this awful Madeira away and bring us a bottle of your best --and another of Vodka." Having said that, the prince slid an empty chair so close to Rasputin that their legs could not help but touch, then delicately seated himself. Gregori looked decidedly uncomfortable, but the warmth of the wine had permeated his body and the prince's perfume was not unpleasant. "Iveren! Where are our drinks. Rasputin is beautiful. Rasputin needs more Madeira." He then confined his speech to their table only, laid his hand on Rasputin's knee and confided: "Their best vodka is beyond belief. Sip the Madeira and wash it down with the Vodka. Each brings out the flavor of the other." As though the world had suddenly come into focus, Yusupov looked at Catherine, picked up the bottle of Madeira and filled the little girl's glass 'till it was overflowing. "There my dear, suck on that for a while." He then addressed Rasputin: "Gregori, why did you bring your little wifey pooh? I had hoped this would be just the two of us. Ever since that horrible misunderstanding we had at the Cathedral I have been trying to apologize to you and get things straight." He paused and kind of giggled under his breath. "Well..., not exactly 'Straight', ...you understand." The waiter arrived with another bottle of Madeira and the Vodka and, while serving the two adults, tactfully did not put a glass for the Vodka before Catherine. Iveren arrived. "Oh Yusupov, we have missed your patronage. Your costume is spectacular, but I really do think you looked better in the sweeping silver gown you wore last time. Did I hear you correctly, this is the famous Gregori Rasputin, counselor to the Imperial Court? He looks nothing like his pictures. Now you two have a pleasant evening. If there is anything else that I can do for you, you need only ask your waiter." Iveren turned to the waiter and said: "This will be your only table. Make certain that the prince has everything he wants." Iveren then turned and swept away. In reality, the proprietor had given his orders not so much to use a considerable amount of diplomacy, as to maintain some degree of order. Alex-P had begun to play 'the mind game'. He only sipped at the one glass of Madeira, watched and listened. Gregori was tossing the Madeira and Vodka down like they were tiny glasses of lemonade, --and Yusupov was all over his guest. Alex-P dropped his napkin, bent down to retrieve it and saw that the prince had his hand halfway between Rasputin's knee and his crotch. The bulge was a mere fraction of an inch from the princes aggressive little finger. Sitting back up, Alex-P adjusted his position and carefully watched the changing expressions on his mentor's face. Both bottles were empty. Prince Yusupov beckoned his waiter as though he were going to ask for more liquor, but the waiter had been keeping an eye on the alcohol consumption and suggested: "Your highness, might I suggest an appetizer of smoked sturgeon. It is the finest and should go very well with what you have been drinking." Rasputin roared: "No! No food. More Madeira. More of that fine Madeira." Yusupov seconded his guest's request and added: "Yes! --and also another bottle of that Vodka." Then, as if to mollify the waiter he added: "And yes, bring the sturgeon. I suspect the young lady is getting hungry." Dismissing the waiter and ignoring Catherine/Alex-P, he returned his attention to Rasputin; but this time the prince drew even closer and his hands were under the table. "Oh my dear, dear friend. You have such a reputation with the ladies and I hear it from reliable sources that it is a well deserved reputation." In a much lower voice he whispered: "Lady Lise says that your chlen is a good twelve inches. --And that I must see with my own eyes." Then he giggled. Rasputin's face turned from pink to red and his voice roared: "So! You want to see my chlen do you?" He stood, slowly unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, extracted his soft penis and hit the prince's nose with it. "I can see you would like to have this for your appetizer. Put your lips around it. Go ahead. I offer it to you." Raising his voice even further and addressing all of the others in the room, he said: "See. I offer him my Hui so that he will stop pestering me. Come on Yusupov see if you can get it erect for me. --Or would you rather that I up-end you and use you like a woman?" Quickly all of the waiters in the room formed a barrier, shielding Yusupov's table from the view of the other customers. Iveren had not become as successful as he had without being able to foresee this kind of thing, and be prepared to handle it ...discretely. The prince rose from his seat in a state of absolute rage and stormed out of the club, leaving Rasputin and Catherine at the table amid the ring of waiters. Iveren arrived immediately, said something to a waiter and moments later a glass of reddish amber liquid appeared. Addressing Rasputin he said: "Ahh. I see that you are a true connoisseur of a fine Madeira, let us toast to your pallet". Rasputin accepted the glass and downed it with a deep sigh of appreciation; yet he stood there, still surrounded by the restaurant staff, his still-limp but considerable penis displayed for all to see. Expectantly, Iveren stood before Rasputin and seemed to be waiting for something; but soon he turned and again whispered to the same waiter. Moments later a second glass appeared and was offered to Rasputin which he unceremoniously downed as he had the first. Then, as Iveren and the staff stood watching, as though he had been hit over the head, Rasputin sank into his seat and fell forward with his face buried in his napkin. One of the waiters said: "He must have the constitution of an elephant, that first glass alone contained enough knock out drops to have disabled a horse." Iveren turned to Catherine and asked: "Where do you live my dear? We must see that you are returned to your home." Iveren turned almost white when he heard her reply: "The Alexander Palace in Tsarskoe Selo." Iveren instructed his staff to stay as they were for he would be right back. He climbed the stairs to the balcony and told Adrian what had transpired and asked if he would take Rasputin and his niece away from The Embers. Downstairs, Piotr and Tatiana had overheard the ruckus in the large room next door, but the Grand Duchess had been unsure as to the identity of the familiar voice. Adrian came downstairs, explained the situation and asked for Piotr's help in getting Rasputin back to his apartment, after which they would return Catherine and Tatiana to Tsarskoe Selo. Rasputin's behavior had indeed ruined Piotr's date. Upon arriving at the table where Rasputin lay unconscious, Tatiana quickly pulled Catherine to her while Adrian and Piotr dealt with the sleeping man. As they raised Rasputin from his chair, Adrien quickly turned so as to block the girls' view of Rasputin's enormous member which still hung limply from his fly and, under the pretext of protecting the young women from this improprietous exposure, seemed to groan slightly as he carefully replaced Rasputin's chlen within his pants. Piotr's eyes and ears were unconsciously focused on Adrian's actions. Tatiana and Catherine followed as Adrian and Piotr carried Rasputin to the Admiral's limo, each silent within their own thoughts about this incident. After leaving The Embers, they drove quickly toward downtown St. Petersburg and Rasputin's apartment. Adrian and Piotr carried the huge man up stairs and laid him out on his bed while the girls stayed behind in the limousine. Piotr sat up front beside Adrian while Catherine and Tatiana remained in the back. No one spoke during the half-hour drive to Alexander Palace; each of them still reviewing the effects of the evening's bizarre events upon their own thoughts and plans. After depositing the two girls at the family entrance, the two sailors drove the limo back toward the city. Adrian began to discuss the evening. Piotr was unhappy. He had not arranged the date to begin with; yet he still had held hopes of getting laid but that had not worked out. As far as he was concerned, this evening had marked the end of his social life, or at least until he had graduated from the academy. Eventually Adrian's comic description of the scene between Rasputin and Prince Yusupov brought a chuckle and a bit of a smile to Piotr. Then Adrian guided the conversation to more sexual matters as mates are likely to do. Long before the limo reached the outskirts of the city, Piotr had a sizable erection. Adrian reached over and patted Piotr on the knee and smiled. "It looks to me like you have a problem there that needs taking care of." "Yeah, I guess you are right." He paused, then gave Adrian a sidewise glance and said: "Why, are you offering?" "What's a friend for, if not to help out a friend in need?" Piotr turned in his seat so that his knee was within inches of the driver. "Well, I do need a friend. Most of the class ahead of me have been pulled out of school and are now in the fleet. Could you make certain that doesn't happen to me? I want to earn my rank by graduating from the academy." Adrian rested his hand on Piotr's knee and squeezed; then moved it slightly in the direction of Piotr's erection. "All of the drafts come across my desk and you may be assured that, if you and I were lovers, your name would never stay on it." Piotr looked Adrian squarely in the face and said: "As long as no one ever knows, then have at it." Adrian then added. "No problem, but if I keep your name off the list, I want to spend one weekend each month with you at a place far away from the navy. Iveren, the fellow that owns The Embers has a discreet little hideaway 50 miles north of St. Petersburg." Piotr unbuttoned the top of this trousers, pulled his chlen free and said: "Then find a dark place to park. This sure could use your attention." The encounter was quick and to the point. Piotr reached his climax within seconds of Adrian's lips closing around his penis' head. The emission was copious and the sighs of pleasure almost delirious. They talked of many different things during the rest of the drive back to the naval base; none of them sexual, all of them related to the war and what was happening to Russia on the front lines. Adrian dropped his passenger at the side entrance of the cadet quarters, and then returned the limo to the motor pool. Pleased with his success in seducing Piotr, he walked back to his quarters, took a quick shower and slipped into bed. Piotr's mind was ablaze with concerns. Would Adrian uphold his promise to keep him off of the draft list? Would it be possible to keep this affair totally private? He suddenly remembered the feelings he had experienced when the Tsarevitch had once stroked him to explosion. He thought of the strange twinges which he had felt while watching Adrian grasp Rasputin's impressive chlen and replace it inside his fly. He compared his passion while embracing Tatiana in the back seat of the Limo to the incredible feelings imparted to his cock by Adrian's lips. He had quickly climaxed because of those incredible feelings. He also wondered what all these feelings said about who he really was. As Piotr lay there in his bed, his chlen again became ridged and throbbed for attention. His hand drifted to his crotch and he began to stroke himself. Then he stopped, got out of bed, dressed and walked down the road to the senior enlisted quarters. He tapped on Adrian's door. When it opened, he slipped inside, placed his fingers on the buttons of his fly and said: "No point in letting this go to waste." + + + + + DEATH ON THE FRONT LINES from the front page of the Petersburgskie Wedomosti + + + + + "Monday, August 31st, 1914. Over the weekend trains from the front lines brought home our heroes who had suffered in the battle against Germany. "This reporter had not been warned as to the magnitude of the damage that was done to our brave troops in out attempt to free the people of East Prussia. "All of the hospitals in the city have been filled with the wounded. Overflow of less critical patients has been moved to other government buildings including the Winter Palace, Peter's Palace, and Pavlovsk Palace. "Even though the Czar is in residence at the Winter Palace, the entire East Wing has been converted into a hospital. "The medical staff at St. Petersburg General has been re-distributed to provide adequate patient care in all of the emergency facilities. "Doctors, nurses and anyone with medical training are asked to contact St. Petersburg General; your help is desperately needed." + + + + + Olga was sitting at the family table munching on a piece of toast while reading the paper. She looked up as the housekeeper, Mrs. Cherminski, entered the room. "Have you seen the papers. Isn't it just awful. I thought we were pushing the Germans back, but according to this article more than one hundred thousand of our soldiers have been killed or wounded." The woman had a tired expression on her face as she replied: "Yes it is just horrible. I just received word that two of my nephews have been killed. They were still in school when they volunteered. Their officer was from the military academy." She paused and wiped a tear from her eyes. "I beg your pardon Miss Olga, but they were just boys; brothers; just starting their life." "I see from the paper, that the hospital needs help. I wonder if I might help in some way." The housekeeper looked up in surprise. Miss Olga was not known for her compassion for the suffering of others. "You should speak to your mother about that. Security might be a problem." "The Wedomosti says they have turned the East Wing of the Winter Palace into a hospital. Since Mama and Papa are already there I wouldn't think there would be any security problems." "Well as I said, Miss Olga, you need to speak with your mother about that." Alex-T and Catherine came into the room and sat down in their chairs. The Tsarevich said: "I'm hungry. Can I have an omelet with bacon and cheese?" While the newcomers were eating, Olga continued her comments about offering to help the wounded. The Tsarevich paused in his eating, mouth partially full, and said: "Papa asked me if I would like to accompany him on an inspection trip. He wants to see, first hand, why we are loosing so many men; but I don't know if I am up to it." Catherine/Alex-P kicked the Tsarevich under the table and said; "If I were a boy I would jump at the chance." Alex-T hesitated as though thinking the matter over, then told everyone: "Well, on second thought, I suppose it would be something like our trip to Turkey. I'll talk to papa and see if the opportunity is still there." Olga changed the subject. Addressing Catherine she asked: "I haven't seen your uncle in several weeks. Did he say where he was going, or how long he would be away? You and Aleksey seem to enjoy his classes... But I must say the reasons for your interest are beyond me." "He returned home to Pokrovskoe. He only came back to St. Petersburg because he felt your father needed his council; you know, with the war and all. When he realized he could accomplish very little, he went back to Pokrovskoe." Olga turned and spoke directly to Catherine. "You haven't returned to visit your parents since you first came to us. Don't you miss your family?" "Uncle Gregori has told me that my education should be my first priority, and that God told him that my place was with the Tsarevich." "Well, I don't know about that. It seems to me that you and Aleksey are more like boyfriend/girlfriend. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that you kids are sleeping together." Mrs. Cherminski, who had just re-entered the room, looked at Olga in surprise. "Really, you should not joke about things like that. Once the idea is planted in people's minds it might grow into an ugly rumor." + + + + + "Rasputin, Rasputin, Rasputin! The name pounds like surf on a crumbling shore." + + + + + Shortly after the incident at The Embers, Pravda ran the following article: "Rasputin, Rasputin, Rasputin; the name pounds like surf on a crumbling shore, in the food lines, salons, rooming houses --universally. It is like a refrain. It has become a pall enveloping all of our world, eclipsing the sun. How can so pitiful a wretch throw so vast a shadow? It is inexplicable, maddening, incredible. "This dark peasant from a distant Siberian bog, a creature who had defecated in the open like an animal when he was a boy; who still sucks soup from a bowl and eats fish with his fingers; whose body gives off a powerful and acrid odor; who scarcely can scrawl his name; who, it is rumored, has the ear and enjoyed the body of the empress; who, with her, has appointed the mightiest officials of state; who treats fawning duchesses, countesses, famous actresses and high- ranking persons worse than servants and maids; who plots a separate peace with Germany; and who supposedly can see the future has, inexplicably become the most feared man in the empire. "He appears as a shaggy figure with a sable coat thrown over peasant boots and blouse. He has been seen about town, catching cabs, dining at The Embers, reeling out of the Gypsy houses in Novaya Derevnya blind drunk in the early hours. "Do not believe what you read in the official newspapers. By Imperial edict the censors do their best to hide him. They daubed ink over newspaper columns with stories that refer to him; the black blotches they call caviar. Readers know whom the caviar is protecting." + + + + + Secreted within the pages of Pravda were inserts, purported not to have been added at the newspaper. These crude cartoons could be passed from hand to hand. They depicted Rasputin emerging from the naked empress's nipples to tower over Russia, his wild eyes staring from a black cloud of hair and beard. Nightclubs and gambling dens in both Moscow and St. Petersburg were supplied with playing cards on which Rasputin's head replaced the Czar's on the king of spades. A caricature icon showed him with a vodka bottle in one hand and the naked Czar cradled like the Christ child in the other, while the flames of hell licked at his boots and nude women with angels' wings and black silk stockings flew about his head. Catch phrases like: "Dark Powers behind the Throne!" "German influence at Court!" "The power of Rasputin!" were injected by unknown persons, and innocently repeated. "The filthy gossip about the Czar's family has now become the property of the street," wrote an agent of the Okhrana secret police. The Czar was livid. He was the absolute power; he was the final authority. Only in Russia, he thought to himself, could so much treasonous behavior be tolerated. Yet, the common people, the peasantry, followed him into battle and went blindly to their death knowing that it was "for king and country". With the defeat at Tannenberg, the Duma, which had never been a model of organization, became engaged in frantic bickering, turmoil and infighting. When Russia truly needed solidarity, when autocratic rule could have been the salvation, it was then that she had neither. The Red Russians, the White Russians, the government of the Czar, the individual political ambitions of members of the Duma, the ambition and ego of the nobility were all a part of a storm of utter destruction which was rapidly gathering force on the horizon. Russia had been at war for just two months and she was coming apart at the seams. The descriptions of the dead and dying on the battlefields, together with the photographs and drawings from Tannenberg, did not rally support for the Czar. People everywhere were openly debating, with great passion, the rumors about the behavior of the Imperial Family. Thus it was with great relief that the Czar received a note from Rasputin which said that he was returning to Western Siberia. He asked that the Imperial household look after his niece as though she were their own. "It is the will of God that she becomes a thread in the fabric of the monarchy!" The Czar's brother, Mikahil, accompanied by his older brother George, came to the Winter Palace, purportedly to bring comfort to the injured in the East Wing; however, they seemed to spend more time in the West Wing visiting their relatives. Each time they had the ear of their brother, the Czar, they continued to lobby for military assignments. Nicholas wanted to lead an army into battle, to inflict pain upon those who had filled the hospitals of Russia. But it seemed that, every time he planned such a move, more serious considerations from all of the war fronts came to bare, requiring his constant attention. After thoughtful consideration he decided that having his brothers lead the battles would be almost as good as if he did it himself. It was the image of the Imperial Family that should be superimposed on the war. In a hastily convened conference, he appointed Mikahil to the post of Imperial General and his brother George as Military Attache to the court. The fact that no one in the Imperial Family had ever studied battle tactics somehow did not enter their minds. Catherine/Alex-P had simply watched, considered and worried about the obvious. The defeat of the Russian Army in Tannenberg had not come as a surprise to the fourteen-year-old. That the military leaders would entrust the fate of their forces to youngsters who were enrolled in the military academy astonished her. Now it was the Czar's brother Mikahil who would lead the war and this was beyond belief; he had no training! What time he had spent in the army had yielded no practical experience --either with military tactics or as a leader of men since he had only functioned as a VIP. For almost two weeks, Alex-T had used the secret passageway into Alex- P's bedroom. Sex had always been the outcome of their sleeping together, but now it seemed that their time was spent discussing the war and debating whether Uncle Gregori's pacifist point of view was more likely to save the world, or if the Czar's tactics would be the best. Finally, in mid-October, Alex-T decided that he should discuss these issues with his father. He had asked his mother if he might spend the weekend at the Winter Palace. She had agreed. On Friday morning the Tsarevich and Catherine were playing tennis. Alex-T had served and the ball went wild. Alex-P/Catherine jumped to return the ball and accidentally clipped it in such a way that it sped like a bullet toward the Tsarevich and struck him hard just below the groin. Instantly the boy collapsed, screeching in great pain. With the help of Deverenko, they moved him to his bedroom. The bruise began to swell and the pain increased. The Czar immediately dropped everything and returned to Alexander Palace in the company of the Imperial physician. The swelling and the pain appeared to lessen. Then on Sunday night it flared up. The Czarina, ignoring the wishes of her husband sent a telegram to Rasputin: "My dearest holy father. We miss you terribly. Catherine and my own Aleksey always ask if I have heard from you. We are desolate when we are deprived of your company. "Aleksey had an accident on Friday while playing tennis with Catherine. The ball hit him very hard and he appears to be bleeding internally. The doctors are considering lancing, but that is very risky. Dearest man, dearest lover of my soul, please tell me what we should do." Rasputin's reply read: "Do nothing, my dearest one. I am praying and god has promised me that Aleksey will recover. Keep him in bed for at least ten days and do nothing to excite him." The front pages of Pravda screamed: "The Czarina calls Rasputin her dearest man, her dearest lover. She is desolate without him. And we wonder WHY we are loosing the war. She is German. Our enemy is her cousin. We are led by traitors to the cause of the people. Abolish the monarchy and return the power to the people." All author22 books are available in paperback from Amazon.com, and are also available as with colorful illustration in html format for viewing on your own PC, or in Franklin Rocket-eBook format. Contact author22@aol.com for further information.